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imaginedisish · 20 days

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Heroes (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader)

A/N: I think I used David Bowie's "Heroes" for another fic when I first started writing on this blog. Oh well. We're using it again bc it inspired this fic. This is a combo request fic: Co-teachers/Logan having a nightmare/smut. Hope you guys enjoy!

Summary: You and Logan are assigned by Charles to co-teach a class to learn how to work as a team. You expect Logan to be cold, distant, short. What you don't expect is the way you find yourself needing him, and him needing you.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI!!! SMUT! Dry humping, Oral (f!receiving), Fingering, Unprotected PIV (wrap it up), multiple orgasms, overstimulation, soft!Logan, cocky!Logan (always), softdom!Logan vibes, implied age gap (Logan is obvi older), frenemies to lovers, feelings, some violence (Logan accidentally hurts the reader while having a nightmare), reader has regenerative powers, fluff, hurt to comfort (literally), reader has family trauma, afab!/f!reader, cursing, def some grammatical errors, I think that's it!

Word Count: 5,267 kinda wanna do a part 2 this was cute

“I work better alone Charles. You know that.”

You and Logan Howlett never did see eye to eye.

“Yes, Logan. Which is why I’m giving you this challenge.”

He was always cold.

“I don’t think this is a good idea.”

Always distant.

“Hence why it is an excellent idea, Logan.”

But you never thought he’d be this resistant to teaching a class with you.

“I’m fine with it,” you say, your eyes flitting between Logan and Charles. “It doesn’t faze me at all.”

Logan’s leather jacket crinkles and he puts his hands on his hips. He furrows his brows. “You’re fine with this?” He asks, cocking his head to the side.

You shrug your shoulders. “I don’t see why not.” Your eyes find Logan’s, but you can’t make out the expression on his face. Can’t tell if it’s dislike, pure hatred, or something else altogether.

“This can’t happen,” Logan insists, tearing his eyes away from yours and turning towards the Professor. His words sting and you’re not quite sure why—not sure why you should care about this at all.

“It is too late,” Charles’s voice booms. “I have already decided. You will co-teach a history class for...” Charles trails off, choosing his words carefully. “Younger students.”

You smile, but Logan rolls his eyes, his brows still furrowed. “How young?” You say in unison, although in starkly different tones. You whip your head to face Logan and find that his eyes are already on you.

“Ages six to seven,” Charles explains. “This will be a smaller class, given how rare it is for children of that age to show their abilities, and the course will be incredibly simple.” He rolls away from behind the desk and approaches you and Logan in the center of the room. “I have faith that the two of you can handle this.”

Logan exhales deeply but doesn’t say a word. “We can,” you answer, your stare breaking away from Logan and turning to the Professor instead. “I look forward to teaching the class,” you pause, “with Logan.”

Something in Logan’s glare softens. His frown slowly disappears, melting away. His jaw relaxes, and his shoulders go slack. “Fine.” He’s curt, but something about the resolve in his voice gives you an ounce of hope that maybe, just maybe this will go well.

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This is, in fact, not going well at all.

Agreeing on the curriculum was not a problem. Logan, having experienced most of U.S. History, believes in telling history as it happened. No rose-colored glasses. No murky half-truths or prettily wrapped white lies. No weird Christopher Columbus-themed arts and crafts. Having seen multiple wars and experiencing the power of government exploitation firsthand—not surprisingly—has made Logan progressive.

So, you had designed an age-appropriate, honest, curriculum. You were shocked at how well you and Logan worked together. You shared quiet hours in the library, passing scribblings and notes back and forth while pouring over books. You actually felt quite confident.

That is, until the very first class.

You and Logan had only just introduced yourselves—written your names on the board.

“We are going to have a fun, educational year,” you finish, smiling widely. “Does anyone have any questions?”

A young girl in the center of the room raises her hand. You nod towards her, and she smiles sheepishly. “Are you two married?”

You’re taken back, your brows furrowing. “Oh, um—”

“No,” Logan cuts you off, his arms crossing tightly against his chest. His shortness hurts more than you’re willing to admit. “Absolutely not.”

The little girl’s eyes widen. “But then why do you look at her like that?”

“Excuse me?” Logan asks, his voice a little too harsh. “Like what, kid?”

“Logan,” you whisper, turning to face him. “She’s six. Let it go,” you chide. “Professor Logan and I are friends and co-teachers. That’s all.” You turn back to the little girl, who nods, but she doesn’t look convinced.

The rest of the class goes relatively well. It’s very introductory—teaching the children how mutant history and human history are intertwined. You and Logan are able to simplify things for the children so that they can understand. And, as the class goes on, Logan seems more comfortable with the children.

The period is almost over when a little boy raises his hand, and Logan calls on him. “My older brother told me people like us are scary,” he says shyly. His eyes are sad—too tired for a six-year-old. “He told me that we shouldn’t exist.”

Your stomach drops, tears burning behind your sinuses. You think back to your own family, back to the trauma of being disowned for something you couldn’t control. You’re too heartbroken to tackle the question. Logan’s eyes flicker between you and the little boy.

“Your brother is wrong,” Logan answers, crossing the room to stand next to you. He brings a hand to your lower back. It’s the ghost of a touch, but it’s a lifeline. “You’re special,” Logan says, and you know he’s talking to you, too. “You all are. Don’t listen to what they say. You’re more important than you’ll ever know. More extraordinary than they can understand.”

The bell rings, and the children stand, collecting their belongings. “See you all tomorrow,” Logan shouts over the shuffling and ruckus in the hallway. The children file out the door, jumping and cheering as if nothing happened.

“They’re so resilient,” you say, shaking your head and watching them leave. You look over to Logan—his face close to yours, his palm still pressed against your back.

“So are you,” he whispers, smiling softly, rubbing up and down your back. “You did great.”

“Yes, she did. And you did too, Logan,” Charles says, suddenly in the doorway to the classroom. “I forgot to drop off the roll call this morning,” Charles explains, holding out a sheet of paper. You cross the room to meet him, taking the sheet into your hands. “It has the list of names of the children in your class, as well as their abilities.” Charles backs into the hallway. “Excellent work, you two. You make a better team than you realize.”

“Thank you, Professor,” you say. Logan mumbles a soft Thanks, and heads towards the door once Charles is gone.

He scratches his head, almost nervously. “Got another class to teach,” he husks. “Meet up later to go over tomorrow’s lesson plan?”

You nod your head. “Sounds good.” Logan smiles and walks through the doorway and down the hall.

You look at the roll call, and your eyes widen. Your heart beats out of your chest. You find the name of the little girl who had asked if you and Logan were married.

Claire Teller—Precognition, Clairvoyance, shows signs of potential telekinesis.

The paper falls from your hands and drifts slowly to the floor. You look down, your lips parted in shock. Did she see you and Logan—

“You alright, sugar?” Rogue’s voice snaps you back to reality. You look up, and she’s standing in the door.

“Y-yeah,” you stutter, shaking your head. “I’m fine.”

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

The rest of the week goes smoothly. You and Logan meet each night to discuss the lesson plan for the following day. The classes go well. Claire always seems a bit distracted, her eyes flickering between you and Logan, but she does just fine in class.

In fact, you’d say this was going better than well. You and Logan, despite his hesitation in the beginning, were growing closer every day.

It’s written in secret, stolen moments—hands accidentally brushing, glances across the room. But you can feel it, the way your lives are being sewn together. You find ways to spend time alone outside of class—ordering dinner and grading together, practicing in the Danger Room as partners and not opponents. You had become something of a team.

Tonight, you’re alone with Logan, sitting on the floor of his room, grading the small quiz you had given the children on the branches of government. Logan had picked the background music—60s and 70s rock.

You hum along to Evil Woman by Electric Light Orchestra as you write “100%” at the top of a student’s quiz.

“Pretty voice,” Logan rasps, looking up from his last quiz. Before you can react, before you can even process what he says, he’s moving on. “You almost done?”

“Just finished.” You write another “100%” and look up at Logan. He’s on his side, resting his head in his hand, balancing on his elbow. He smirks and stands up, striding over to you. He reaches his hand out, and you tilt your head, confused. You take his hand all the same, and he pulls you up.

Logan’s hands find your waist, and he sways you from side to side. You giggle, shakily bringing your arms up and around his neck. Your heart thunders in your chest as you dance with him.

“Didn’t take you for a dancer,” you murmur. Evil Woman fades out and Heroes by David Bowie starts up.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” Logan husks. He pulls you in tighter, his chest pressed to yours.

“Yeah?” You ask, letting your head rest in the crook of his neck. Your eyes flutter closed. “Like what?”

He’s suddenly silent, and you can feel the tension thicken in the room. “When Charles came to us about the class…” He trails off, searching for the right words to say. “I was nervous,” he admits.

You lift your head from his neck. “Why?” You question, smiling softly.

Logan presses his forehead to yours. “Because I—” But then there’s a knock at the door. “Logan?” It’s Charles on the other side. Logan huffs, his eyes closing defeatedly as he loosens his hold on your waist and walks over to the door.

“There has been an emergency,” Charles says the second the door is open. “I need you to go on a mission immediately. This is a dire situation.”

Logan looks across the room to you. “Okay,” he says, his eyes still trained on yours.

Charles nods and heads down the hallway. “Meet me downstairs. Hank is readying the jet now.”

“I have a bad feeling about this,” you confess, fighting the tears brimming at the corners of your eyes. You can’t quite place where the feeling is coming from—why you’re suddenly so nervous about Logan leaving. A month ago, this sort of thing would’ve felt routine, normal. There’s always a crisis somewhere.

Logan swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “I’ll come back,” he promises. “And we can talk then.” He strides over to you, wrapping you in his arms, and pulling you into his chest. “Don’t worry. It’ll be fine.”

“Logan?” Charles calls from downstairs. “We need to leave at once!”

Logan squeezes you tightly before letting go. He works his jaw, his teeth gritting as he backs out of the room and down the hallway. Your heart drops as you listen to his footsteps echoing against the stairs. By the time you muster up the courage to follow him, it’s too late. The door to the mansion slams just as you make it to the bottom of the steps.

You can still hear Heroes faintly playing from Logan’s room.

And the guns, shot above our heads (over our heads) And we kissed, as though nothing could fall (nothing could fall) And the shame, was on the other side Oh we can beat them, forever and ever Then we could be Heroes, just for one day

You sit on the bottom step, your head falling into your hands.

“Oh, sugar,” Rogue whispers as she walks into the foyer. She settles next to you. “I didn’t know you and Logan…” She trails off, shaking her head. “He’ll come back. He always does.” She hangs her arm around your shoulder, tugging you into her chest.

You hope she’s right.

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

The next morning, Logan is still gone. You’re forced to teach the class alone. As you’re starting roll call, a young boy raises his hand.

“Yes, Jimmy?” You call, arching your brows.

“Where’s Professor Logan?” He asks curiously, tilting his head to the side.

You swallow harshly, inhaling deeply. “He has something to take care of,” you explain. “It’ll just be me teaching today. Is that alright with you?” You try to sound light, jovial, plastering a fake smile across your face. The kids buy it, giggling and nodding. Jimmy smiles widely and nods, too.

But Claire—the little girl who can seemingly see into the future, stares at you sympathetically. It sends a chill down your spine. It’s like she knows how you’re feeling—can see it in her mind’s eye. You shake the feeling off, proceeding with the lesson. The material is distracting enough—the U.S. voting system, carefully explained so that the children can understand.

The rest of the class goes off without a hitch, and the bell finally rings. The session felt longer than usual without Logan, and certainly harder to get through, but not impossible. The class picks up their belongings and files out. You grab your papers, readying to leave, assuming that everyone is gone.

“He’s going to come back,” a small, familiar voice whispers. You look up from your materials, and there’s Claire, standing in front of the desk. Her deep, brown eyes twitch back and forth. She closes them tightly and smiles. “You don’t have to worry,” she assures. “He’s safe. He’ll always come back to you.” She pauses. “All I see is happiness.” The veins in her temples grow thicker, and you can tell she’s working too hard to look to the future.

“Claire,” you say, your hand grabbing her shoulder. “Don’t hurt yourself, my love. You don’t have to do that for me. I’m okay.”

Her eyes fly open, and she smiles widely, as if nothing happened. She steps away from the desk, your hand falling from her shoulder. “Didn’t hurt at all!” She calls as she skips out the door. “See you Monday!”

You shake your head. Resilient, you think to yourself. So goddamn resilient.

The rest of the evening is slow. You try to keep yourself busy—grading papers, listening to music, going for a run, training in the Danger Room. But all you can think about is Logan.

After dinner, you get ready for bed, changing into a pair of panties and an oversized t-shirt. You sit alone in your room, on your bed, reminding yourself of what Claire had told you this afternoon.

He’s going to come back. You don’t have to worry. He’s safe.

You lay back on your pillows, bringing the covers up to your chin and closing your eyes. You repeat her words over and over again in your head as you fall asleep. He’s safe. He’s safe. He’s safe.

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

You wake up a few hours later, your bedside lamp still on. Your alarm clock reads 1:45 AM. You groan, rolling over and shutting your eyes tightly, trying to force yourself back to sleep. But it’s no use—you’re awake, thinking of Logan already.

You push yourself to sit up, swinging your legs over the side of the bed, and pressing your feet into the cold wood floors below. You walk to your door, twist the knob, and head out into the hallway. A lap around the mansion might make you tired—might relax you.

You walk down the hallway slowly, noticing instantly that Logan’s door is closed. You can’t help but pick up your pace, striding towards Logan’s room.

You stand in front of his door, your hand on the knob, ready to twist and push. You stop yourself, wondering if this is crossing a line, tearing down a carefully constructed boundary. But all you want is to see him breathing, lying on his bed. You need to know he’s in there—safe.

You knock once, but there’s no answer. You swallow nervously, twisting the knob and pushing the door open.

Your heart stops. There he is. He’s home. He’s safe. He’s breathing. You let out a sigh of relief, smiling softly as you start to close the door.

But then his head snaps to the side, and he grunts. “Logan?” You call, opening the door slightly. He doesn’t answer. He grunts again. You quickly notice the way his fists white-knuckle his sheets.

You step inside his room, closing the door behind you. “Lo,” you whisper into the darkness. He tosses and turns, his head whipping from side to side. He must be having a nightmare, You think to yourself, your heart breaking in two, watching pain wrack his body, his mind.

You meet his side, placing a hand on his shoulder and shaking him softly. “Logan,” you say, your voice louder, stronger this time. “You need to wake up.” But he doesn’t. He groans, his brows furrowed, sweat beading his forehead.

“Come on,” you plead, climbing into the bed, and straddling him. You hold him down by his shoulders, stopping him from writhing. Now that you’re closer, you can see the tears streaming down his cheeks, can see the agony etched into the lines of his face. “Logan!” You yell. “You gotta wake—”

His eyes fly open, and you feel cold metal pierce your leg. Your jaw drops as pain stings sharply in your thigh. “Oh fuck,” Logan curses, sitting up and retracting his claws. Tears brim in the corners of your eyes as the pain worsens. “Shit!” He cries out, grabbing at your thigh, blood spilling into his fingers.

You close your eyes as your powers take hold. Your skin slowly stitches up, putting yourself together again. You groan, and Logan wraps his arms around you, holding you tight against his chest. “I’m so sorry,” he mumbles into the side of your head, pressing soft, gentle kisses there. “I love you, I’m so sorry sweetheart.”

What did he just say?

“W-what?” You ask, the pain fading away as those three words echo in your mind.

Logan’s breathing only quickens as he realizes what he said. “A-are you okay?” He asks, ignoring your question.

You nod. “It’s already gone,” you whisper, nodding to your thigh. “But what did you just—”

“I love you,” he interrupts, saying it again. You pull back a bit to look at him. You can see the seriousness in his eyes, the adoration, the honesty. “I love you.”

You bite your lip, your eyes widening as you process what this means. Logan loves you. It’s everything you ever wanted. Everything you could have asked for. It just makes sense.

“I love you too,” you confess, choking on your words. “I was so worried. I didn’t know when you’d come back, or if you’d come back at all. I saw your door closed, and I just had to see you. I needed to know that you were okay, that you came home.”

He presses his forehead to yours, his eyes closing. “Before I left,” he pauses, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “I was going to tell you why I didn’t want to work together.” His eyes open again. “I was scared to get close to you,” he explains. “I knew I wanted you the second I saw you. Knew I had to have you. I’ve never felt that way before. You opened something inside me that I thought I didn’t have. Turns out it was just locked, waiting around for you.”

“Logan,” you breathe, his lips just inches from yours. “I wanted you too. Wanted you this whole time.” You need him to kiss you—to take you right here and now. “I thought you didn’t like me,” you admit, giggling softly.

He shakes his head, smirking. “I liked you too much,” he rasps. “Didn’t know what to do about it. You were driving me crazy, sweetheart.” You can feel his erection straining in his boxers, and you can’t help but grind down on him, your core rocking against his cock. “Fuck,” he groans, gripping your hips. “Slow down, pretty girl. Are you sure you’re okay?”

You nod emphatically. “Already healed,” you assure him. “Just need you, Lo.”

“Need you too, sweetheart,” Logan groans, rolling your hips against his, tugging you down his length. “Can feel you soaking through those panties already,” he grunts. And he’s right. The heat pooling between your legs is uncontrollable.

You groan as your clit drags across his erection. “F-fuck,” you stutter, his fingers digging into your hips. You bring your hands to the waistband of his boxers, tugging at them. But before you can get anywhere, Logan is flipping you onto your back and crawling down your body.

“Next time, sweetheart,” he coos, hiking your shirt up and smirking when he sees you aren’t wearing a bra. He palms your breasts, tweaking your nipples before sliding down further. “Wanna take care of you this first time.”

Your heart flutters in your chest at his words. You can see the hunger in his eyes as he kisses down your stomach, going past the hem of your panties, stopping at your clit. He takes a deep breath. “Can smell that pretty pussy. Know she needs me, darlin’.”

He hooks his fingers into your waistband, and tugs the thin lace down your legs, revealing your aching cunt to him. He settles between your thighs, his lips pressing a soft kiss to your clit.

“L-Lo,” you choke. “Please.”

He smiles against you, breathing you in again. “Please what, princess?” He asks, looking up at you under hooded eyes. “Tell me what you need.”

“You,” you beg. “Need you. Always gonna need you.”

His smile meets his eyes as he licks a long stripe through your folds, his tongue pushing through your entrance, tasting you, savoring you. He hums against you, the vibration of his voice rocking your core. “Tastes so good,” he mumbles, licking another long stripe. “Perfect pussy. Knew you’d be this sweet.”

You watch as he laps at you, drinking you in. Logan’s tongue finds your clit, drawing tight circles into the bud. “F-feels so good,” you stutter.

“I know, beautiful” He soothes, his fingers trailing up your inner thigh, drawing closer to your heat. “You look so pretty when you let me eat you out,” he praises, his fingers prodding your entrance. “You want more?” He teases, slipping just past your slit and quickly pulling out.

“Yes,” you whimper, pleasure coursing through your veins. “Need your fingers, Lo. Please.”

He wastes no time—suddenly thrusting inside you, his long, thick fingers splitting you in two. Your walls flutter around him, sucking him in, taking him deeper. “So tight,” he coos, pulling out and sliding back in. “So fucking wet.”

Logan wraps his lips around your clit, his cheeks hollowing as he sucks, hard. He releases, his teeth grazing the bud lightly. Your walls clench around his fingers at the sensation. “Fuck,” Logan curses, smirking against you. “You like that?” He teases. “Like when I’m rough with you?” His tongue flits out, lapping flat strokes across your clit.

You moan a soft Yes in affirmation, your back arching off the mattress. You’re already close, ready to let go. But Logan isn’t letting up, his fingers slamming into you, taking your clit back into his mouth and sucking harder, rougher this time. He swirls soothing circles into the bud, pushing you to the edge.

“Logan,” you whine, your hips squirming as he drags his tongue harder against your heat. “I’m so close.”

Your muscles contract and release around his fingers as he hits that sweet spot inside you, pump after pump. “I know, pretty girl,” He soothes, his free hand wrapping around your hip and holding you down to the mattress. “Look at you,” he praises between harsh sucks. “So beautiful like this.” His tongue circles your overstimulated clit. “Already fucked out, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” you mutter, your hips squirming helplessly against his grip. It’s all too much, his hushed whispers, his praises, the way his tongue flits against you, his deep thrusts dragging along your walls. “Logan, I’m gonna…”

“That’s it, pretty girl,” Logan coaches, his tongue still lapping at you ravenously. He’s starving, unwilling to stop. He needs more. “Should keep you in my bed so I can taste you whenever I want.” He grunts against you. “Want you to come on my fingers, darlin’. Wanna taste it. Let go.”

It’s all blazing, white-hot heat, raging through your body, searing your skin. Your eyes stay trained on Logan as he works you through your orgasm—ravaging you, lapping up every last drop of your release. His fingers pump in and out, slowly, before he pulls out completely. But his face stays buried against your cunt, his tongue pushing through your folds.

“Logan,” you whine, lacing your fingers through his hair. “Need you up here.”

He looks up from your heat and licks one more long stripe before climbing up your body. He tugs his boxers down his legs, his eyes not leaving yours. His cock springs free, bumping against his stomach.

Logan settles on top of you, balancing on his forearm as his free hand wraps around the base of his cock. You instinctually spread your legs, as if it’s second nature, as if you’ve been here before. “Such a good girl,” Logan praises, sliding his tip through your folds. “All spread open for me.” His cock nudges against your clit and slides back down. “You need me, sweetheart?”

“Yes,” you choke. “More than you can—”

And then he’s plunging inside you, bottoming out with just one thrust. “Fuck!” You cry out. He stays inside, unmoving, letting you adjust to the size of him.

He presses his forehead to yours. “You okay?” He asks. His cock throbs, pushing against your walls, searching for more. His hand slips between your bodies and finds your clit.

“Y-yes,” You stutter, sighing in relief as his fingertips draw gentle strokes into the bud. “S-so big.”

“I know,” Logan soothes, sliding out only to shove himself back in, down to the hit. Your back arches off the mattress, your chest coming flush with his. “Gonna work you open.” His voice is gentle, calm. “I’ve got you. Relax for me, sweetheart.”

Logan pulls out and thrusts in again, his lips swallowing your moans with a kiss. His fingers swirl around your clit as pleasure pulses through your every nerve ending. “Feels so good,” you murmur as he picks up his pace, his hips rolling against yours.

He grunts. “So perfect,” he praises. “Fucking made for me.” He pumps in and out of you harder, faster now, letting himself go. He pinches your clit, rolling the bud under his fingertips. “Never gonna want anyone but you, you know that?” He twitches inside you, and your walls flutter around him.

You curse under your breath. “Yes,” you cry out. “Only gonna want you, Lo. Only you.”

“Doing so good for me,” he husks between hard thrusts. “Taking me so well.” His hips snap against yours, his fingers circling your clit rapidly, adding more pressure. His lips find yours again, biting, kissing you bruisingly, fitting against you like a puzzle piece.

Your chests heave together, the sound of his skin slapping against yours echoing against the walls of the room. “You’re so perfect,” he whispers, his lips suddenly at the shell of your ear. He bites down on your pulse point, his tongue flitting out to lick the pain away. “So fucking beautiful.”

Your walls contract around him, squeezing him as he sinks deeper inside you, hitting exactly where you need him most. You’re so close, ready to come undone. “Fuck, Logan,” you whine as he pounds into you. “I’m gonna—”

“Me too, pretty girl,” he rasps, twitching inside you. You wrap your legs around his waist, keeping him close as he plunges deeper. He lifts his head from the crook of your neck and presses a chaste kiss to your lips. “Don’t wanna stop. Don’t wanna…” He trails off, his cock throbbing inside you again. You know he can’t hold back.

You tighten your legs around his waist. “Don’t stop,” you beg. “Stay inside.”

He groans, his forehead pressing to yours. “You want me to fill you up, sweetheart? That what you’re asking for?”

“Y-yes,” you stammer, his fingers pinching your clit and stroking relentlessly. “Please,” you choke, begging, tears brimming in the corners of your eyes.

“Fuck,” he curses. “Wanna feel you come on my cock, sweetheart. Wanna make you mine.”

“Already yours,” you whisper, your muscles contracting around his length again, your legs trembling as stars flood your vision. Logan moans your name, and you can feel him spilling inside you. You come together, your orgasm crashing into you, more intense, more powerful than the last.

“Love you so much,” he whispers as he finishes, painting your walls.

“Love you too, Lo,” you say back, your heart beating out of your chest as you come down from your high.

His fingers drag against your clit, swiping gently before running up your body, slipping under your back, and pulling you into his chest. His hips are still, his cock unmoving inside you. He finally pulls out, and rolls off you, taking you with him. He tugs you into his chest, holding you tightly.

“Are you okay?” He asks softly. “Need anything?”

“J-just you,” you stammer. His fingertips trace patterns along your back, soothing and gentle.

“Let me clean you up, sweetheart,” Logan whispers, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead and moving to sit up. But you stop him, wrapping your arms around his torso and holding him down. He smirks, letting you pull him back. “I’m just gonna grab a towel, yeah? Wanna take care of you. I’ll come right back.”

You nod, letting him go. He slips out of the bed, strides over to his bathroom, and grabs a towel from inside without turning a light on. Within ten seconds he’s back in bed, just like he said he would be.

Logan brings the towel between your legs and wipes you clean. His touch is gentle, soothing, careful not to be too rough. Once he’s done, he throws the towel to the floor and reaches over to his nightstand. When he turns back to you, he has a glass of water in his hand. He extends the glass out, bringing it to your lips. The water feels cool as it slides down your throat. You drain the glass, and Logan smiles as he pulls it from your lips.

He places the cup back down on the nightstand and pulls you into his arms again. You bury your head into the center of his chest, listening carefully to his heartbeat. It’s even, steady, constant. Just like him.

“Never felt like this before,” he whispers into the silent darkness of the room.

“Like what?” You mumble, your voice muffled against his chest.

You can hear the smile in his voice as the words leave his lips. “Happy. Safe.”

Tears—happy tears—free themselves from your eyes, sliding down your cheeks.

“Can’t let go of you,” he hums, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Don’t wanna go back to before.”

“You don’t have to, Lo,” you pant. “I’m yours. Always.” And you know you mean it. You know it’s true. It’s already been decided, already played out. Already etched into the future.

Are you two married? Claire had asked.

He’ll always come back to you. All I see is happiness, She had promised.

And she was right.

“I love you,” Logan husks.

“I love you, too.”

tags: @afw5 @wolviesgirl @the-ruler-of-death @Ifdybadgirlsdiw @xtwistedchaosx @wittyjasontodd @wolverinesslut @galacticglitterglue @silversprings-mp3 @zxaera @spiderset @figsnpassionfruits @alastorssimp @alsoprettyinpink @prettyseaveins @ilysmdovie12 @evasmlp @derbygracie @rammakela @honeyfewr @ricefordays-blog1 @manipulatour

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thmadethis · 1 year

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Here it is. Another old design that I decided to revamp, clean up and improve. Calvin and Hobbes is in my top three favorite comics ever and it's comedic timing, seriousness and random bouts of imagination are seared into my brain, forever changing the way that I create. Just a boy and his tiger.

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⚡OPEN COMMISSION / INQUIRIES⚡send DM or message me through my website 🔗 LINK IN BIO

#thmadethis #illustration #graphic design #design #logo #crest #apparel #sunday comics #neespaper comics #calvin and hobbes #calvinball #outdoor #adventure #childhood #columbus makes art

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graciebarracolumbus · 2 years

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Gracie Barra Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu Martial Arts in Columbus, GA

Gracie Barra is the most famous martial art. They have established themselves as a pioneer in the Columbus martial arts scene thanks to their devotion, values, dedication, and expertise in Jiu-Jitsu. Gracie Barra is not a normal martial arts organisation. Here there are over 700 students and all are provided with the best training and practice in martial arts

More and more people are turning to martial arts classes for their workout and fitness regimen since the popularity of martial arts gained attention in the media. Our programs in Jiu-Jitsu Columbus GA provide all the benefits and training of martial arts and Jiu-Jitsu Columbus GA will help you or your child improve their flexibility, confidence, physical strength, and self-discipline. Gracie Barra Brazilian Academy in Columbus will take pride in the Martial Arts programs and teach you and provide you with one year of experience in each area.

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The people at Gracie Barra Brazilian school are what they are, and you can soon be one of our members. The best part is that every team member is committed to learning and practising new skills. The staff, instructors, and other students make the environment friendly, but it is still challenging and demanding which stimulates most people to achieve their best.

The renowned Gracie Barra structure makes individuals journey in learning enjoyable and smooth

A defining characteristic of all Gracie Barra Brazilian Schools is the class system.Classes start on time and stick to standardised rules and agreements and class structure. As a student, an individual knows up front what is expected of him and has a clear understanding of what to expect from training and instructors partners. The framework of this structure, combined with the unique creativity and innovation of devoted instructors, blend perfectly to facilitate the progress of martial arts.

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focsle · 2 years

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I never did a long thing about scrimshaw, so it’s time! At 1 am, apparently.

I think scrimshaw is one of the most fascinating material goods to emerge from the history of the American whaling industry (which is the context I’m discussing here, though of course the artform exists across numerous eras and cultures outside this brief blip of nautical history).

It’s one way to see amatuer art that usually doesn’t often survive in other forms. To see the art project of an ordinary man who was bored and needed something to do with his hands. Others were highly skilled craftsman, creating intricate engravings or mechanically expert tools. The most common scrimshaw was images etched on sperm whale teeth. Sometimes those images came from the maker’s own imagination and sometimes they were copied illustrations. Ships & whaling scenes, women, mythical figures, and patriotic symbols make up the bulk of the visual language in those pieces that survive.

But alongside the teeth were all a manner of carved items: canes, candle holders, pie crimpers, children’s toys, sewing boxes, yarn swifts, corset busks. So much bone fashioned into quiet little homegoods. And it’s that contradiction within scrimshaw that fascinates me. The brutality of the industry, this ivory from an animal that frankly died terribly, that’s then softened into a little domestic item. An object that could have hours to years of work put into it. Some were made to be sold but many were made as gifts. In the long stretches of boredom at sea, in the lull between back-breaking work and life-threatening terror, scrimshaw gives a window into where the minds of these men continually turned. It shows where their hearts were and what they were holding on to over all the years they spent adrift in saltwater and blood and oil. That’s the poetry I see in scrimshaw. Pain and love and longing and creativity and playfulness all bound together in these complicated little pieces that found their way out of the hands of their anonymous makers to preserve a small part of their story.

Some scrimshanders names are known. Frederick Myrick is one of the most well known American whalers, not so much for the scope of his life (of which little is known) but for his scrimshaw. Born in Nantucket in 1808, he first went whaling in 1825 on the Columbus and then again on the Susan 1826-29. In the last few months aboard the Susan, Myrick engraved over 30 sperm whale teeth, all depicting the ship he was on (though there are a handful that depict other vessels). He signed and dated nearly each one. These pieces are often referred to as ‘Susan’s Teeth’ now, and when one comes up at auction it’s not unusual for it to sell for six figures.

Many of the teeth Myrick scrimshawed included an inscribed couplet of his devising: A dark wish for luck that succinctly gets at the violent and unstable heart of American whaling.

“Death to the living, long life to the killers Success to sailor’s wives, and greasy luck to whalers”

Sometimes large scenes were etched on panbones as well.

Moving from scrimshaw on teeth and jawbones, pie crimpers are some of the more common sculptural items. Popular motifs included animals (dogs, snakes, and unicorns/hippocampus are big), body parts (mostly clenched fists or lady’s legs), and geometric designs.

Others were more mechanically complicated, such as automatons and children’s toys with moving parts and gears. Here’s one of a small rocking sailboat, perhaps made for someone’s child or younger sibling.

Sometimes a particular creative fellow created something more eccentric, like this wild writing desk kit fashioned out of a carved panbone and sperm whale teeth.

Another frequently scrimshawed object was a corset busk that would be slid into the front of the garment in order to maintain the posture. A rather private item compared to others. And one with a very on-the-nose message of wearing close to one’s heart the memory of someone who’d be gone for 3-4 years, who might never come home again. On some level, so many of these daily objects whispered ‘forget me not’, ‘think of me while I’m gone’.

There’s something tender to all the various domestic items that were fashioned on the job so long and far from home, but it’s the yarn swifts that really captivate me. They were one of the most complicated pieces of scrimshaw to make, with over one hundred different pieces that would have to be carved. It could take someone the length of the voyage (2-4 years) to complete a single one. Unlike teeth which were comparatively very quick to make and were frequently intended to be sold, it’s very unlikely that a swift was made with the aim of selling it because of the significant labor that went into it. They were almost certainly all gifts, and very special ones at that. Every time I see one I can just feel the love towards its intended recipient radiating off of it.

Scrimshaw captures a specific snapshot of a moment in time. On a broader scale it’s a surviving reminder of a bloody industry that flared up and winked out, preserved in the form of a long-lost ship and the spout of a long-dead whale inked on a yellowing tooth. But that snapshot also reveals the emotional world of the men who were caught up in such an industry: what they valued, what they thought about, what they missed, and what they wanted to be remembered of them.

#awhalin #long post //#animal death //#ok bedtime

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furby-junkie · 8 months

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"Bob Kling makes a final touch to his Furby creation at the butter cow display at the Ohio State Fair in 2000. Kling is director of Sculpting for Hasbro."

Source

Article From The Cincinnati Enquirer (newspapers.com transcript)

Date: August 13, 2000

Hasbro butters up the fair

How do you bring butter to life? Mix toy-makers with the dairy farmers during the Ohio State Fair. Eight Cincinnati toy sculptors from Hasbro went from designing action-figures to spending four days in a refrigerator sculpting butter. The local design team is behind this year's butter sculpture, the largest ever at the fair on display through Aug. in Columbus. Accompanying the annual cow and calf are depictions of Hasbro's Mr. Monopoly, pet Furby and a Tonka Truck.

The Hasbro designers approached the American Dairy Association (ADA) of the Mideast after their veteran butter sculptor of 36 years retired. The ADA Mideast liked the idea. There aren't a lot of skilled butter sculptors in the area to carry on the century-old tradition. "The dairy industry and Hasbro have a lot in common children," said Jenny Wilson, director of communications for Mideast ADA, who pointed out that the "milk mustache" ad campaign is aimed at children.

Some choice details, such as the folds of skin in the hind quarters, a big vein on the udder and the slope of the cow's back, 'were pain painstakingly patted into place. Contrary to popular opinion, butter is no easy medium. "It's slimy," said Mr. Kling "Butter responds a little bit like bad clay," he said. Although the team worked in a 45-degree walk-in cooler, they found that their body heat would still melt the butter that ran down their arms.

"At the end of the day we would shower and even then, we still smelled like butter," said Mr. Kling. However artfully successful the sculptures are, they'll last only as long as the fair. "They'll turn off the cooler and pressure wash the frames," said Mr. Kling, who said it would be too expensive to try to preserve the butter art in another medium.

#furby #furby fandom #furby community #furblr #safe furby #all furby #furby 1998 #r.i.p. butter furby

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kedreeva · 4 months

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Sark took me to the Otherworld art installation in Columbus, OH today, and I gotta say, it was awesome actually!

You can touch absolutely everything, take pictures (no flash) of anything you want. There were a few dozen rooms with various themes, all of them with interactive mechanics, and half of them had puzzles as well. This is what I think people expected that Willy Wonka disaster of an event would be, or something similar anyway, but Otherworld actually delivered really well!!

You get your wristband at the door and then you can take one of several entrances, but all the rooms are interconnected so it doesn't matter which. If no one's told you, you don't necessarily realize there's going to be puzzles, but I realized something was up by the end of our first room, and figured out what it was by the end of the second room, so it's very easy to catch on to, I think.

If you can solve the right puzzles, you can activate the end mechanic for a light and music show! Unlike an escape room, you're not locked in, you can leave at any time, but it very much had escape room vibes. I had a TON of fun figuring out what we needed to do, and watching other people try to figure out what to do.

There was one group of kids (young teens it looked like), who were trying to figure out one of the puzzles and after watching them for a bit, we offered to give them a clue since it was one we solved already. They were so excited to find out it actually WAS a puzzle with an answer. I just pointed out one of the panels to watch and let them go from there and they solved it with a lot of yelling. I hope that they continued solving the rest of the puzzles- we went in the opposite direction, because of the yelling.

In fact, all the kids we saw were having a blast. There were also plenty of adults wandering about. Because of the way tickets are sold by time slots, it should not ever get super crowded, and there were hand sanitizing stations all over, and staff lurking to clean stuff and assist as needed if someone struggled with a puzzle. They were happy to tell you whatever you wanted at the entrances and exits, so you never had to stay stuck if you didn't want to. They've also named the creatures you see.

There was also a Rick Roll in one of the rooms, which was hilarious.

Anyway, super fun experience. If you have the ability to make it out that way, consider checking it out!

#otherworld #importantly #perhaps most importantly #you know those huge blow up yard decorations #that people put up around holidays #there was a huge room with a massive one of those #and i got to throw my hands open and lay up against it #which i don't think i would get to do anywhere else #and was worth the whole ticket i think #that and laying against the giant furred rainbow narwhal #god this was so cool actually #art #personal

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yuribeam · 6 days

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With the flood of empty meme-ification of the bigoted violence targeting Haitian immigrants in Springfield, Ohio, I had no idea until today that there is actually a Haitian Community Help & Support Center that serves Clark County and surrounding areas.

They were founded in 2023 and help assist refugees and immigrants with a variety of pressing needs, including:

housing

interpreting

job search

welfare assistance

"Through our work and determination, community services must be accessible to people in need of them, regardless of their race, ethnicity, color, religion, or sexual orientation. We envision it as a place where people feel at home when they come for community services and are served with dignity and respect." -HCHSC

They are now navigating the community's fears amid escalating threats, including multiple evacuations due to bomb threats, and violent racism that has exploded after J.D. Vance and Trump's xenophobic fear mongering lies were platformed at the debate.

The Haitian Times and the Hatian Community Help & Support Center organized a meeting on Saturday (9/14/24), bringing together activists from across the country, NAACP leaders, journalists, and local activists in conversation with community members.

The meeting had to be moved online out of fear for residents' safety.

"Some Haitian residents in the meeting shared their experiences in recent weeks and months as the fake news went viral. Participants also shared their fears, concerns and hope for the growing community. Even as they spoke, a ruckus broke out outside the community center from which a few participants logged into the Zoom when a strange truck appeared in the parking lot carrying white occupants acting cagey." - The Haitian Times, 9/16/24

The Haitian Times reports that some parents are keeping their children home from school out of fear for their safety. One woman's cars were vandalized in the driveway of her family home- the attacker used acid and broke a window, while another resident is facing discriminatory eviction from her business location.

White supremacist groups such as neonazis "Blood Tribe" are active in the area and are associated with the origin of the anti-Haitian lie.

Springfield's annual CultureFest, a two-day event that celebrates diversity, arts, and culture, has been cancelled for safety concerns.

"I take my kids to the park usually, I cannot do that anymore. You know, I have to just stay home and just don't go out. We used to just go for a walk in the neighborhood, but we cannot do that anymore," - Jims Denis, quoted in the Columbus Dispatch, 9/14/24

It is especially important to support the Haitian immigrant community during times like these. I hope visibility will shift from unhelpful dunk-on-trump memes to instead focus on the facts of the matter, the actual harm being caused to real communities, and how we can help.

With that in mind, the Haitian Community Help & Support Center takes donations through Stripe and Paypal on their website.

"Your generosity can make a profound difference in the lives of our Haitian community. By making a donation today, you help us provide essential resources, support, and opportunities for those in need. Donate now and be a part of the change. Every contribution counts! Thank you for your support." -HCHSC

(photo from Springfield Flag Day festival, 2023, Springfield News-Sun)

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mostlysignssomeportents · 7 months

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1900s futurism

I'm on tour with my new, nationally bestselling novel The Bezzle! Catch me in TUCSON (Mar 9-10), then SAN FRANCISCO (Mar 13), Anaheim, and more!

I'm profoundly skeptical of the idea that the future can be predicted, and doubly skeptical that sf writers are any kind of prophet. The former grotesque fatalism (if the future can be predicted, then what we do doesn't matter); the latter is tragicomic hubris.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this thread to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/03/07/the-gernsback-continuum/#wheres-my-jetpack

That said, few people have been more consistently useful in understanding and anticipating (and yes, building) the future than my friend and colleague Karl Schroeder, whom I've known since I was 16 years old. Karl was the first person I heard say the world "internet." Also: "fractal," "World Wide Web," "ftp," and numerous other touchstones of the future just over the horizon.

Karl is, in fact, a futurist ("foresight consultant") who approaches the work with the same shrewd insight, wild imagination and humility that he brings to his fiction. In a new essay written with both his futurist and sf writer hats on, he nails down the toxic shadow cast by the 20th century sf, or, as he calls it, "The Science Fiction of the 1900s":

https://kschroeder.substack.com/p/the-science-fiction-of-the-1900s

Karl starts by describing the odd "double vision" of the future of the 1900s. On the one hand, many of us (myself included) were convinced that nuclear armageddon was inevitable. Unlike the unhinged architects of the nuclear arms-race, realists understood that a nuclear war would effectively end the future. As Einstein put it, "I know not with what weapons World War III will be fought, but World War IV will be fought with sticks and stones."

But the flipside of that certainty that the future would end with the first nuclear strike was the belief that if we could just somehow walk the tightrope over the chasm of nuclear holocaust, we'd emerge in a future worth looking forward to: "a new era of peace and prosperity for all."

Contrast that with the existential dread of today's polycrisis: environmental collapse and political decay up to and including fascism. These aren't the binary proposition of nuclear annihilation vs Utopia – rather, they're a continuum of worse-and-better outcomes of every description. As Karl writes: "It’s not that simple. Our future now is an exhausting spectrum of scenarios, each with its own promise, and its own problems."

For Karl, we have entered a new epoch, but we've dragged in the long-expired way of imagining (and hence creating and navigating) the future with us. What makes this a new epoch? For Karl, it's the kind of future on our horizon. He cites Charles C Mann’s 1491, a superb history of the Americas before Columbus:

https://www.penguinrandomhouse.com/books/107178/1491-second-edition-by-charles-c-mann/9781400032051/readers-guide/

1491 radically reframes "the patchwork of propaganda and inference" that makes up the received narrative of the so-called "New World." It describes a land of flourishing cities, art, science and culture "in the Americas while Rome was just getting its act together." Contact with colonizing Europeans was a disaster for First Nations people, who call this period "The Invasion." It was an epochal break.

Futurism is an inextricably historical discipline. The willingness of some settler-colonialists states to consider this epochal break forces us to reframe our literal place in history, the story of the land under our feet. At its best, this futuro-historical work can begin the long work of reconciliation, as with the Canadian government's promise of $23b in reparations for the First Nations people who were kidnapped as children and sent to murderous "residential schools" before, during and after the Sixties Scoop.

The sf of the 1900s is no longer fit for purpose, if it ever was. It's a literature that was steered by open fascists like John W Campbell, who explicitly saw the literature as a means of inculcating a societal narrative of the triumph of white, corporate technocracy over all other forms of government:

https://locusmag.com/2019/11/cory-doctorow-jeannette-ng-was-right-john-w-campbell-was-a-fascist/

Karl isn't the first sf writer to try to overturn this orthodoxy – indeed, it was continuously challenged by radicals within the field, as with the New Wave, personified by the likes of Samuel Delany and Judith Merril (who both mentored and introduced Karl and me):

https://pluralistic.net/2020/08/13/better-to-have-loved/#neofuturians

The cyberpunks took a good hard run at it, too. For plenty of writers (including me), Bruce Sterling and William Gibson's 1981 story "The Gernsback Continuum" was a wake-up call:

http://writing2.richmond.edu/jessid/eng216/gernsback.pdf

Not for nothing, William Gibson has long insisted that his 1984 classic Neuromancer should be read as utopian: after all, it depicts a future in which the inevitable nuclear war only reduces a few cities to radioactive ash, sparing the rest of the planet.

Bruce Sterling once paid me the supreme compliment of describing a 2003 story I wrote about the ways that algorithms will enshittify self-driving cars as "making everybody else in the business look like they live in a dark basement growing on the mulch from old STAR TREK scripts":

https://craphound.com/stories/2005/10/12/human-readable/

Schroeder – along with today's new radical sf writer cohort – wants to fashion a fictional futurism that is fit for this world and its crisis: "in our modern technological society, science fiction tells us what to spend our time and money on." The fact that our mediocre billionaires are mired in the sf of the 1900s means that we're getting some decidedly old-fashioned futures.

For Karl, Musk is a poster-child for this profoundly conservative, backwards-looking vision: "He’s fighting the intellectual battles of the last century, a 1900s hero dropped into the 2000s with an unlimited budget to reshape the future to fit the era he’s from." Musk's obsessions – "Space flight. Settling Mars. Cyberpunk-style brain-computer interfaces. Artificial Intelligence. Self-driving electric cars. Humanoid robots." – are 1900s science fiction.

Ironically, much of this fiction labels itself "hard sf," despite the fact that interstellar travel is utter fantasy – as is mass-scale, near-term interplanetary civilization:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/09/astrobezzle/#send-robots-instead

Karl wants "a future for the 2000s." He points to some efforts to make this happen, like Neal Stephenson's Hieroglyph anthology, edited by Ed Finn and Kathryn Cramer:

https://www.harpercollins.com/products/hieroglyph-ed-finnkathryn-cramer

The "Hieroglyph" is Stephenson's shorthand for a recognizable, tangible, meme-able gizmo or other touchstone for a 2000s-era vision of the future – a replacement for jetpacks and flying cars. Karl's story for the anthology, "Degrees of Freedom," focuses on an abstraction (governance: "the single most important thing humanity can focus its creative energies on right now"), and by Karl's own admission, it's not quite the hieroglyph Stephenson was looking for.

But Karl did come up with a hieroglyph in a later work, the "deodands" of 2019's Stealing Worlds – a software agent "that believes it is some natural system, such as a river or forest, and acts in its own self-interest, that being the preservation and thriving of that natural system":

https://memex.craphound.com/2019/06/18/karl-schroeders-stealing-worlds-visionary-science-fiction-of-a-way-through-the-climate-and-inequality-crises/

(My own contribution to Hieroglyph was very gadget heavy – "The Man Who Sold the Moon," about autonomous lunar 3D printers. It won the Sturgeon Award):

https://memex.craphound.com/2015/05/22/the-man-who-sold-the-moon/

I've been impressed with Karl since the day I met him in 1987. There's no one whose thoughts on the future I'm more interested in hearing. I don't think that's a coincidence, either: Karl is an autodidact who was raised by a Mennonite TV repairman – the first TV repair shop in the Canadian prairies. If you want to understand the future, try being raised by someone who takes that kind of deliberate approach to which technology to adopt, and how.

Name your price for 18 of my DRM-free ebooks and support the Electronic Frontier Foundation with the Humble Cory Doctorow Bundle.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/03/07/the-gernsback-continuum/#wheres-my-jetpack

#pluralistic #science fiction #futurism #the future #reactionaries #tescreal #retrofuturism #scientifiction #karl schroeder #1491 #genocide

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artist-issues · 3 months

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idk anything about 21 pilots, but you talk about them a lot and they seem cool!! Who are they and what are they about and where do i get started in their music 😁

GIRL

These kinds of questions make me so happy. People who know me in real life organically ask me to talk about movies and stuff sometimes, but never bands, and when they find out I like twenty one pilots, never them 😂

Anyway,

Twenty one pilots is a roughly 15 year-old band led by Tyler Joseph, who used to be an intern at Five14 Church (New Albany Church) in Columbus, Ohio, and a rising basketball star in his schooling. Then, my understanding is, he taught himself how to play piano, got interested in/wrote songs during his senior year of high school, and then eventually dropped out of college to pursue making music full time. The band is named after a play by Arthur Miller called “All My Sons.” Tyler Joseph studied it in school—he was inspired by the plot of having to make a hard decision that ultimately costs lives…and you can hear through all the songs the sense of urgency, and the way the lead singer is convinced that every single choice you make can have dire consequences.

At the start of the band, it had him and two other members. Their first album is called “Twenty One Pilots,” and it has sick album art that everybody loves:

The band played local shows (like in literal houses and backyards and stuff) and were mostly performing songs from this album. My favorite twenty one pilots song is on this album: it’s called Addict With a Pen.

(Specifically, my favorite is this version of him performing it live several years after its release, which I saw after returning from the camp where I got saved.)

youtube

In those early years, twenty one pilots performed songs off of Self-Titled. But they also did a few that Tyler Joseph wrote independently, the ones not featured on the album.

One of the songs that he wrote that isn’t on this album was written when he was in high school before he had a band. It’s called “Save.” He probably recorded it in the early 2000s, but if I don’t have my years mixed up, I didn’t hear that song until I was 14-turning-15 in the year 2011. And it, along with another song of his called “Clear,” played with it, was the first song I ever heard by twenty one pilots. I heard it the week I gave my life to Christ. Save is a gut-scream song about the need to be saved. It’s hard to listen to. But in the context I heard it in, I needed to be hearing the idea of “needing salvation” in that extreme and real of a voice. So I love it.

Clear is about Tyler Joseph’s struggle with trying to figure out if it’s better to get people thinking with cryptic lyrics about their need for a savior—OR should he just come out and say, “I’m a Christian, I believe Jesus Christ is what you need, please believe in Him like I did?” He winds up settling on the first option (sometimes I wish he hadn’t) and “telling the audience what he can,” and not pushing it on them when they “let him know when they’ve had enough.”

Clear planted the germs in my brain that led to me considering art, and then storytelling as a tool to deliver hard truth “under the eyes of watchful dragons.” He talks about the concept of Romans 7 using the philosophy of disguising his words, like in Clear, in this interview, which, when I saw the part at about 9 minutes, made me start paying attention to Tyler Joseph as a person instead of just listening to his music.

youtube

Anyway. Back to the band.

One of these independent songs, NOT on the original album of the band, was called “Time to Say Goodbye,” and it has a pretty intense ‘cycle of knowing you’re messed up (like really messed up. suicide attempt and purposeless darkness levels of messed up) -> unable to fix it on your own -> trying anyway -> failing -> driven to accept Christ’s ability to kill the old you so you can live for something bigger than your messed-up self’ concept in the lyrics.

That whole progression, the “Romans 7 Progression,” I think of it as, winds up being one of the strongest recurring themes in every album afterward.

But I bring it up because the legend is, when performing that song, Time to Say Goodbye, at a little venue, Josh Dun, who already had some experience drumming in a different Christian band, saw twenty one pilots for the first time. And he thought the song and Tyler were brilliant. The current drummer of the band introduced him to Tyler, and when everybody in the band except Tyler quit, Josh Dun quit his job with no fallback plan and became the drummer of twenty one pilots. Since then, they have been a two-man band.

They have their own genre, because they’re both self-taught, and one of the identifying factors of the band is that both Josh Dun and Tyler Joseph are intensely opposed to giving in to the draw of “Fame” or “Success.” They stubbornly insist that they just make music they like. Whatever, that’s not unique, lots of bands are punk rock and go “fight the power, we don’t care what anybody thinks, etc.”

But then you listen to Tyler Joseph adding screamo and ukulele and rap over…like, church-piano, and you hear him say things like, “I just rap because I needed to fit a lot of words in, and also my brother likes fast rap.” and you go, “oh. They meant it. They don’t know how any of this works and they just do what they like.”

Especially in their early stuff.

I “got into” twenty one pilots in the year 2011. That’s the same year they signed to a record label. They produced what I think is their best album, “Vessel,” (nobody agrees with me.)

I could break down every song on the album but nobody wants that and nobody would read it, so I’ll just say; it has deeper exploration of the band’s same themes:

Be Introspective - All the time, the lead singer is writing lyrics that urgently explore the dark corners of his own fear, doubt, and insecurity—and then he flips it around and begs his listeners to be introspective, too, because “there’s something you desperately need.” It’s this idea of not running from your emotions, but letting them drive you to what you need. (He’s never clear about what that is, though, beyond the general word “faith.”)

Focus on Your Purpose - They insist that being introspective should lead to picking what you believe, and living it out to make the most of your time.

What Music Should Be For - The lyrics are all about how music should be used to fight darkness, because it can be exorcism of your inner demons, and a rallying cry to gather around and show you that you’re not the only person who has demons. With that in mind, the band is consistently opposed to “heartless,” “mindless” music that’s just there to make you dance or indulge.

Peace Wins, Fear Loses - This theme is where they usually get closest to their Christian roots. The pattern, like I said, is the Romans 7 Cycle: I’m afraid of who I am because the digger I deep, the darker and crazier I am…but I don’t have to act on that fear. I can just throw myself at the mercy of…._____ which brings peace. Peace wins, fear loses. (After signing to the record label, Tyler Joseph went full-on into the idea in Clear of never saying point-blank that Jesus is the answer. He hints and alludes. But from that moment on, he disguises Biblical principles in zombie-and-darkness metaphors. And he hasn’t stopped doing that since 2011.)

Doubt - A recurring theme that actually has nothing to do with the audience is “doubt.” Tyler Joseph exorcises his issues with not being able to physically see God, and doubting His existence (usually because of a lack of feeling), or doubting His ability to wash Tyler clean, in his songs. All the time. Just…constantly. He sings about it so often. Which, on the one hand, is cool, because many Christian artists sing about the resolve to have faith in the face of doubt. They don’t sing so much about the feeling and the addiction to doubt that comes with doubt. If that makes sense. But on the other hand, that’s not cool—because when you only talk about the fact that you have doubts, but you don’t ever resolve them, then what you’re doing is you’re constantly rolling around in the problem without ever introducing the solution.

It’s worth noting that I think their very best song of all time is on this album, and it’s “Holding Onto You.”

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It’s their full Romans 7 Cycle in a way that addresses doubt, too. The imagery is everything I love about twenty one pilots, which I would sum up as:

“Use dark imagery to prove how defeatable darkness can be.”

I like that kind of imagery for the same reasons I like Halloween.

People started noticing the band, mainstream, worldwide, in 2015, though. When they released “Blurryface.”

They did it in such a cool way. The band loves giving their fans a sense of “uncovering” what they’re doing next. That gives the fans a sense of ownership—like they’re a part of what the band is creating. And, it makes them want to investigate the concepts in the songs—which is one step closer to examining what they believe. Organically.

Anyway. They accomplished this before Blurryface, is I remember correctly, by making a Twitter account for this mysterious character. They’d livestream Tyler and Josh from the perspective of an unseen, loudly breathing third person. Or the feed would just be a dark shot of the woods. No explanations. At one point I think I remember “he” even started “hacking” popular fans’ accounts and making posts in-character. He always spells things in all caps, with words misspelled or smashed together. And he’d tease new songs that would be on the new album.

And then, BAM, Blurryface the album drops, and it’s a smash hit. Every single song. The band had never seen that level of success before, and all of it is very ironic, because the album concept is this: “Tyler Joseph puts a name to his Insecurities, who want him dead, and battles them.”

So the whole “album cycle,” and all through tour, Tyler Joseph wears inky black paint on his hands and throat, because anxiety gives him the feeling of suffocating. Red is also the signature color of the character representing his dark side, his insecurity: “Blurryface.”

Twenty one pilots have been very intentionally deciding what shirts they wear and what visuals they use from the beginning. Josh was always wearing something alien-associated, and Tyler was always something undead, for example. But this was a whole other level of performance art. During concerts, Tyler Joseph would start out wearing his black paint thick around his neck and hands. But as the live show went on, naturally because of sweat, the paint would get thinner and thinner. So by the end of the show, the feeling is that “Blurryface” has been defeated.

I made a huge post about ranking the Blurryface songs, if you ever have nothing to do for an absurd amount of time and feel like listening to the songs. But those songs are what most people know twenty one pilots by.

Then they took an intensely long hiatus, (I mean. One year of no public appearances.) after the success of Blurryface. I remember wondering if they were ever going to make music again, and thinking “maybe they’re the perfect band” because in my high-school-entering-college opinion, they’d never written a bad song or done anything remotely uncool or worth hating from 2009-2016, so if they never made music again they’d have gone out on top. Plus, at that point, Tyler had married, and, feeling a Christian kinship with him, I had a vague biased opinion that maybe he’d want to settle in with his family and quit the fame game.

But NO. They weren’t done! In 2018, the fans discovered this hidden website associated with the band, and you could read letters written by a new character named Clancy. They were about this whole new world Tyler Joseph created, called “Trench,” which consequently became the name of their next album. This was a full-blown concept album. It was a deeper exploration, not of the Romans 7 Cycle that always made me love their lyrics…but more like an exploration of “how do suicidal thoughts and self-focus captivate you, and what lies do they use…and can you ever really escape them?”

There was also a much tighter focus on suicide being the big idealogical villain, the antithesis, of the band. “Stay alive” and the topic of suicide were always discussed in the rest of the band’s songs. But the momentum of this album seemed very, very specifically targeted at the issue this time. There’s a whole song dedicated to it called Neon Gravestones in the smack middle of the album.

Which is great. I’m glad. It’s awesome. But it’s like…”what’s the answer?” Way back in “Time to Say Goodbye,” the answer is “replace physical life-taking with spiritual self-sacrifice and rebirth.” But Trench, and its whole concept, was specifically engineered to leave you with no clear answer to the problem presented.

Worst of all, Tyler Joseph mentioned, in his vague noncommittal way, that this album saw him flirting with the idea of “a world with no God” and “loss of faith.” But he never really said he wasn’t a Christian anymore, and songs like Morph seem to suggest the opposite.

Anyway. The album’s excellent “story,” with its notes of Shawshank Redemption and The Village and 1984 ended on a cliffhanger. The character Clancy kept trying to escape with the help of a rebellion, and kept getting captured, but he always had this sort of confused resolve to “keep going.”

The next album was weird. They flipped all of their usual imagery on it’s head, from marketing style choices to the literal clothes they wore to tiny things, like whether or not Tyler was standing on Josh’s left or Josh’s right in promotional material. And all of that was intentional. Which is why I’m obsessed with them.

I love this album because I love them and their intentionality. I don’t love it for any other reason; there’s nothing about this album that is “twenty one pilots” aside from what I just said; they are doing all of that reverse-psychology stuff intentionally. In-story, this is still a continuation of Trench; the idea is that Clancy has been captured and the whole album is propaganda from the villains. So that’s neat. But anyone who didn’t know that, and just remembered twenty one pilots from Stressed Out and punk rock were like, “what happened to twenty one pilots? What’s wrong with them?”

The album does this thing that they used to do a lot as like a meta-nod at music—they would make songs with upbeat melodies and happy sounds, but the lyrics would be about insecurity and darkness and doubt. They did that on purpose. But Scaled and Icy took that tongue-in-cheek style and made it the whole album. Plus, it released during COVID. So on top of all the chaos going on in the world, this band that usually releases music that slaps you upside the head and says, “THINK. THINK ABOUT HOW SELF-CONTRADICTORY YOU ARE. THINK ABOUT THE DARKNESS AND HOW TO GET OUT OF IT.” suddenly releases an album that’s more like, “Hey everything is fiiiine.”

This album is pretty godless. But again, this was also the album that has nothing to do with anything serious or real—on purpose—except in a reverse-psychology way. It was all on purpose.

Fast-forward to today. Clancy just released. It’s supposed to be the end of this “story” that started with Blurryface overtly, and the concepts that started in Vessel. Musically, concept-wise, it’s a return to form. They do that thing where they switch up the tempo when you’re not expecting it. You can’t pin it down to any one genre. There’s deep, dark imagery. And the story is back, not with hidden clues, but with in-your-face costumes and a music video for every song.

But the problem is, it won’t end. They said this was the end, and I thought, “if anything forces an artist to use clarity, it’s the end of a story. You have to commit to an ending. You have to say what you believe.” And that’s all I’ve been wishing would happen since 2017, when I started feeling less like “I relate to those dark thoughts and doubts,” and more like, “I’m worried about them.” Because clarity denotes security in what you believe. And the whole “battle” has been against insecurity. And to that extent, doubt.

It’s not happening, though. They released the last music video, and it really looks like the end of the story is, “and the cycle continues.” Now, there’s been hints that they’ll end the story after tour season, maybe by releasing an additional single, or some wishful thinkers are even saying “DELUXE ALBUM!!” But for now, it’s another cliffhanger-maybe-unsatisfying-ending.

The further away they’ve gotten from releasing the song “Clear,” the further away the focus seems to get from “darkness is defeatable.” And they left “it’s defeatable specifically by God” in the rear view mirror first.

And the thing is…I worry about that. Because it really looks like he’s just playing the field. That he started off with the intent to share Christ with people very genuinely, through the gift he was given in writing and music and even the gift he was given in struggling through darkness. And his strategy was, “I’ll use art to help people trust me, and then I’ll share what I’ve learned about the Truth (Jesus.)” But then…I mean, from the outside, it looks like they got popular. And they got popular by talking about their struggles. So how do I know he hasn’t just slipped into a cycle of doubting, then instead of letting brokenness and doubt drive him back to Christ, and pull others along with him, he sits in brokenness and doubt because he’s relying on the people who relate? He’s choosing to lean on crowds of people who feel the same way he does, cheering his songs back at him, as his support, when he used to lean on Christ?

And now he can’t even see his way back to what looked like (to me) the original intent—he says things like “I don’t think I’ll ever come out and say, ‘hey I found the answers, here they are, follow me,” in interviews. He skirts. He says, “stay alive, find your purpose, decide what you believe,” but he doesn’t say “here’s why you should stay alive, here’s what your purpose is, here’s what’s worth believing in, here’s where genuine life comes from.”

So now he gets to tell all his original (and several largely Christian) fans, “I haven’t abandoned Christ, I just struggle with doubt and I don’t want to alienate my friends (the point of the song Heathens.)” But he turns right around and says to his non-believing fan base, “I’m not telling you what to believe—in fact, maybe I’m not even sure of what I believe.”

And at some point, that stops being genuine. I think. I don’t think he’s reached the point where he’s not genuine yet. I don’t believe that of Tyler Joseph. I think he’s still not sure he wants to sing, with all the conviction it would take, about how Jesus is the ONLY way, when he himself feels like he struggles so much with doubt. How do you lead people where you’re imperfectly going? He has a handle on not committing suicide. So he leads them there, as far as he can. But…still. There’s life beyond this life. There’s EITHER life or death beyond this death. At some point, does he believe that, or not? Is he going to keep using his gift to supply bandaids to cannonball wounds, or not?

But I have basically been a nervous wreck whenever I think about them, the backing soundtrack of my growing years, since 2017.

I have enormous amounts of respect and this familial loyalty-feeling for both Tyler Joseph and Josh Dun (Tyler more so, because of his impact on me through his individually-released songs when I was in high school and then up through college.) I look at them on like, MTV and junk and have the same familiar, adoring, well-wishing feeling I did when a friend I knew went on to be moderately famous.

And all that to say, I love them, I don’t think any other band can do what they do or has done what they’ve done, and they’re my unmatched favorite. But I can acknowledge that there’s something that might be rotting in there, now. Something that didn’t used to be this way. And you just can’t keep going so long, claiming you’re talking about hope, without standing up for the Source of Hope. That’s all probably way more than you wanted to know. But thank you for letting me vent it all, even if you didn’t get to the bottom!

#twenty one pilots #top #tøp #Tyler Joseph #stressed out #music #my favorite band #the favorite band #five14 church #Columbus Ohio #bands #Clancy #meta #analysis #band history #Josh dun #Joshua William dun #Christianity #faith

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DONALD TRUMP: MOBBED UP AF - A RETROSPECTIVE

(by @saradannerdukic)

1970s & 1980s: wave of Russian criminals arrive in New York and begin interfacing with established American organized crime networks (La Cosa Nostra/The Five Families aka Bonanno, Genovese, Colombo, Lucchese, Gambino) (source)

1977: KGB reportedly opens file on Donald Trump (source).

1979: Construction begins on Trump Tower. Trump purchases overpriced concrete from mafia bosses Anthony “Fat Tony” Salerno and Paul Castellano of the Genovese and Gambino crime families (respectively). (source)

1980: Trump's mentor, Roy Cohn, introduces Donald to Roger Stone. (source)

1982: New York City Housing Commissioner Anthony Gliedman received what he described as an “abusive and profane” call from someone angry that Gliedman had opposed Trump’s request for a $20 million tax abatement. Gliedman reported the call to the FBI, saying the caller was “threatening his life.” (source)

June 3, 1983: Rudy Giuliani becomes US attorney for SDNY

January, 1984: Vladimir Alexandrovich Kryuchkov, First Chief Directorate of the KGB arm responsible for gathering foreign intelligence, urges his officers to be more creative with agent recruitment - and to use money and flattery vs. alignment with Soviet ideology. Additionally, he gives the directive to find "U.S. targets to cultivate or, at the very least, official contacts...The main effort must be concentrated on acquiring valuable agents." (source)

1984: Russian émigré David Bogatin pays cash for five apartments in Trump Tower. (source). Bogatin's brother ran a $150 million stock scam with Russian mafia boss Semion Mogilevich (source)

1985: Trump reportedly “apoplectic” when he loses bid to re-develop the Coliseum at Columbus Circle to Salomon Brothers-backed Mort Zuckerman. (source) More on Trump’s proposal here.

October 1985: Trump's helicopter pilot indicted on drug trafficking charges. Trump doesn't fire him. Instead, he leases his personally-owned unit in Trump Plaza Apartments to him with an agreement of half the rent is to be paid in cash, the other half in unspecified helicopter services. Trump also writes a letter on behalf of his pilot (Weichselbaum), calling him "a credit to the community.” Who does the case end up with? Federal judge Maryanne Trump, Donald's sister. (source)

Autumn, 1986: Trump meets Soviet ambassador Yuri Dubinin. And per Trump's own account in Art of the Deal, “One thing led to another, and now I’m talking about building a large luxury hotel, across the street from the Kremlin, in partnership with the Soviet government.” (source)

1986: Trump makes the rounds in the news offering to negotiate with the Russians (source), and also angles for a Soviet posting in the Reagan administration (source)

March 16, 1987: Bogatin (who had purchased multiple apartments in Trump Tower for cash) pleads guilty to taking part in a massive gasoline-bootlegging scheme with Russian mobsters. The government seized his five condos at Trump Tower, because he'd used them to “launder money, to shelter and hide assets.” A Senate investigation into organized crime later revealed that Bogatin was a leading figure in the Russian mob in New York. (from New Republic)

April 3, 1987: Trump excluded from bidding on Australian casino deal because of mafia connections (per Australian police) (source)

July 4, 1987: Trump flies to the USSR for the first time after being personally invited - the trip is arranged by the Soviet government (source).

1987: Trump talks extensively in an interview about nuclear bombs, and states that his pilot used to work for Qaddafi. In the same interview, Trump describes the type of bomb he thinks will be possible in the future: "Carry it in your briefcase, right. I’m not even talking about airplanes and missiles. You’ll walk in with your damn tape recorder,” he says, pointing to my innocent Sony, “and you’ll say it’s a tape recorder and nobody will be able to tell the difference. I mean, that’s where it’s going to be in 20 years.” (source)

1988: Trump starts talking about running for president on Oprah (source).

1988: Trump purchases a yacht from Adnan Khashoggi, the uncle of Jamal Khashoggi (source) (source)

1988: American Media Inc. (AMI) comes into being after Enquirer owner Generoso Pope dies. (source) Among the interested parties are Robert Maxwell (source), the father of Ghislaine Maxwell - Jeffrey Epstein's partner. (source). Among the trustees of the Pope estate are Peter G. Peterson, a partner in the Blackstone Group (source) - a private equity firm founded by Steven Schwarzman (source). (More on Schwarzman and his relation to Trump here). According to Pope's son, Paul, The Enquirer was started with a $75,000 loan from the mafia (source).

October 11, 1989: helicopter crashes with 3 Trump casino execs aboard (source). Trump claimed he was supposed to be on it, but then changed his mind at the last minute. (source) After their deaths, he blamed them for the failure of his Atlantic City casino (source) The helicopter's pilot was identified by the state police as Robert Kent of Ronkonkoma, L.I., and its co-pilot as Lawrence Diener of Westbury, L.I. b/b

1990: Wall Street bond house Salomon Brothers advises institutional clients to sell bonds issue from Trump's Castle Casino in Atlantic City, due to debt and performance concerns. (source)

1991: Trump declares bankruptcy (source)

1991: Trump sells his yacht to Prince Al-Waleed bin Talal (source) (source)

December 17, 1991: Fred Trump gives Donald an interest-free loan by purchasing $3.5 million worth of casino chips at Trump Castle casino, circumventing bankruptcy rules and enabling Donald to make the interest payment due on his bonds. (source)

1992: Trump declares bankruptcy an additional 3 times stemming from various properties he's over-leveraged. (source)

1994: Trump allegedly rapes and beats a 13-year-old girl at a party with Jeffrey Epstein, multiple times. In the filed complaint, the 13-year-old was threatened to be "disappeared" like another young girl had been if she told anyone. (source)

October 20, 1994: Christine Seymour, Roy Cohn's secretary (Cohn was Trump's mentor), who was set to publish a tell-all book, dies in head-on collision with tractor trailer (source)

1995: Trump reportedly in Moscow to discuss matters related to Okhotny Ryad underground mall on Manezh Square. (source)

The trip is also reference in this article: https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/1997/05/19/trump-solo

1995: Trump sells Plaza Hotel to Alwaleed bin Talal (source) Barbara Corcoran brokers the deal (source)

June 8, 1995: Vyacheslav Ivankov arrested (source). Ivankov was known to be a notoriously brutal gangster in the upper echelon of the Russian mafia. (source) After having difficulty finding him, the FBI picked up his trail at Trump Taj Mahal, and then discovered that Ivankov had a luxury condo in Trump Tower. (source) According to Robert Friedman in his book, Red Mafiya, Friedman viewed Ivankov's personal phone book containing "a working number for the Trump Organization’s Trump Tower Residence, and a Trump Organization office fax machine." (this is listed as a citation at the end of the book). Ivankov is also mentioned in this 2003 DOJ paper on organized crime, with a forward by Bruce Ohr (pp 49).

1996: Trump goes to Russia with Howard Lorber (source). Lorber later donated to the Trump inaugural fund (source).

1998: Trump Taj Mahal fined for currency transaction reporting violations (source)

February 1999: Evercore Capital Partners L.L.C., headed by former Deputy Treasury Secretary Roger C. Altman, acquires American Media, Inc. and places David Pecker at the helm. (source)

1999: Trump's first run for president (source)

2000/2001: Mark Burnett in negotiations with Putin for a show called "Destination Mir." (source)

October 2001: AMI offices in Boca Raton are attacked with anthrax (source). Later, in 2004, a cleaning company owned by Rudy Giuliani is contracted to clean up the anthrax, with his company, Bio-One, slated to rent/occupy the building after cleanup. (source) The contract later ended in a feud. (source)

2002: Mark Burnett begins talks with Trump regarding The Apprentice. (source)

2002 - 2011: The Bayrock Group partners with the Trump Organization on developments including the Trump SoHo hotel (source). Principals in the group include Felix Sater - believed to be connected with Semion Mogilevich (source) - and Tevfik Arif (source).

2004: Trump declares bankruptcy again. (source)

Spring 2004: The Apprentice debuts (source)

May 2004: Diamond dealer and former Trump Tower tenant (1 year prior he'd lived right below Kellyanne Conway) Eduard Nektalov is shot on 6th Avenue (source). He was reportedly cooperating with federal authorities on a money laundering investigation (source) More on money laundering and Trump properties here.

2005: at the same time Trump is unable to get a 25 million pound loan from Bank of Scotland due to being a credit risk (source), Deutsche Bank (who later is hit with massive fines for money laundering) loans Trump nearly one billion dollars. Trump's banker at Deutsche Bank is Justice Kennedy's son. (source).

2006: Felix Sater escorts the Trump children during their trip to Russia (according to Sater) (source). Later, in emails to Michael Cohen, Sater says that he'd arranged for Ivanka to sit in Putin's chair. (source).

2006: Paul Manafort buys unit in Trump Tower (source).

2006 - 2009: Trump makes multiple attempts (and fails) to get a loan from the Bank of Scotland to purchase Hamilton Hall. The bank executive "expressed concern that Trump would hold the bank to 'future ransom'” (source)

2007 - 2016: Buyers tied to Russia make 86 cash purchases at Trump properties. (source)

2008: Soviet-born (Moldovia) Orly Taitz helps bring suit regarding Obama's citizenship/birth certificate. (source)

2008: Junior brags that they're getting a lot of money from Russia. (source)

2008: Russian oligarch buys a Palm Beach mansion from Trump, paying twice the value (source).

August 27, 2008: a small-time scam artist transfers a Beverly Hills, California, mansion to Donald Trump for $0. (source)

November 2008: Unable to meet his obligations for the nearly 1 billion dollar loan they gave him, Trump sues Deutsche Bank saying he shouldn't have to make good on his promise because of the economic crash. (source)

2009: Trump declares bankruptcy again. (source)

2009: a lawyer representing Trump Atlantic City casino creditors says he got threatening phone calls. The FBI traced one of them to a payphone outside the “Late Show With David Letterman,” where Trump was appearing.

“My name is Carmine,” the caller told the lawyer, Kristopher Hansen. “I don’t know why you’re fucking with Mr. Trump but if you keep fucking with Mr. Trump, we know where you live and we’re going to your house for your wife and kids.” (source)

July 23, 2009: Stormy Daniels' political advisor's car explodes (source). This was approximately 3 years after her affair with Trump (source).

August 2009: After multiple tries dating back to 2006, Trump denied a final time for loan for 25 million pounds from Bank of Scotland because the bank considered it "too risky." (source)

2010: Tevfik Arif, a principal of the Bayrock Group - which at this time is partnering with the Trump organization on a variety of projects - is arrested in a Turkish prostitution sting. (source). Charges were later dropped by Turkish authorities.

July 25, 2011: President Obama issues executive order declaring organized crime a national security emergency. (source)

2011 - 2015: Deutsche Bank, who 5 years previous had given Donald Trump nearly 1 billion dollars when Bank of Scotland wouldn't loan him 25 million pounds, is laundering billions of dollars with the help of Russians. (source)

2011: Eric Trump brags that they have access to millions of dollars from Russians. (source)

2011 - 2015: Donald Trump begins paying for his properties with hundreds of millions of dollars in cash. (source)

January 1, 2012: former Trump bodyguard dies from apparent overdose (source).

2013: Trump walks out of a BBC Panorama interview when asked about his connections with Felix Sater. (source)

April 16, 2013: Preet Bharara, then US attorney for SDNY, announces charges against massive Russian organized crime ring operating out of Trump Tower. (source)

June 16, 2013: Trump announces Miss Universe pageant will be in Moscow. (source)

November 9, 2013: Miss Universe pageant (source). One of the fugitives indicted in the Trump Tower organized crime ring in April, ALIMZHAN TOKHTAKHOUNOV, is a guest of honor there. (source)

2014: Steve Bannon, while at Cambridge Analytica, orders testing on Putin messaging with Americans. (source)

February 10, 2014: Trump praises Putin on Fox & Friends. (source)

March 6, 2015: Trump Taj Mahal fined for money laundering. (source)

2015: Michael Cohen threatens a reporter covering Trump's divorce with Ivana. “I’m warning you, tread very fucking lightly, because what I’m going to do to you is going to be fucking disgusting,” the Daily Beast’s Tim Mak, recalled Cohen telling him. “You write a story that has Mr. Trump’s name in it, with the word ‘rape,’ and I’m going to mess your life up … for as long as you’re on this frickin’ planet.” (source) (source)

April 18, 2015: Trump's former pilot dies in head-on collision (source).

November 3, 2015: Felix Sater, who is believed to work for Semion Mogilevich (source) writes Michael Cohen stating that he'll get buy-in from Putin and that they'll engineer Trump's presidency. (source)

November 5, 2015: former head of RT Mikhail Lesin found dead in DC hotel room with blunt force trauma to head, neck and torso. He had a meeting with DOJ scheduled for following day. (source)

January 23, 2016: Trump tells the crowd at a rally that he could shoot someone in the middle of 5th Avenue and not lose voters. (source)

February 23, 2016: Trump tells the crowd at a rally that he'd like to punch a protestor in the face, and "I love the old days. You know what they used to do to guys like that when they were in a place like this? They’d be carried out on a stretcher, folks.” (source)

March 29, 2016: Paul Manafort joins Trump campaign. (source)

April - May 2016: George Papadopoulos in communication with “high ranking Russian official” in an attempt to set up meetings between Trump team and Russian reps, w/the promise “that the Kremlin had 'dirt' on Hillary Clinton in the form of “thousands of emails…” (source)

May 2016: Stephen Schwarzman flies to Riyadh to meet with Mohammed bin Salman - then the deputy crown prince of Saudi Arabia - about infrastructure, and presumably the $20 billion fund that's announced a year later. (source) More on Schwarzman's relationship with Trump, and Saudi Arabia here. More on Schwarzman's links to Russia and Rosneft here.

Summer 2016: Stefan Halper, an FBI informant, approaches Trump campaign officials. (source)

June 9, 2016: Trump Tower meeting with Russians, Manafort, Kushner, Don Jr.. (source). Present at the meeting was Nataliya Veselnitskaya, who at the time was representing Prevezon (source), a company implicated in a money-laundering case at SDNY (source)

June 14, 2016: News breaks that the DNC has been hacked by Russians. (source)

June 14, 2016: Michael Cohen cancels his planned trip to Moscow to discuss Trump Tower Moscow (source)

Sometime after July 19, 2016: Trump warned by FBI that Russians will try to infiltrate campaign. (source)

July 2016: FBI opens counter intelligence investigation into Trump campaign. (source) (source)

September, 2016: Trump and Cohen discuss hush money and contingency for if guy gets hit by a truck. (source)

October 31, 2016: Mother Jones reports "A Veteran Spy Has Given the FBI Information Alleging a Russian Operation to Cultivate Donald Trump"

November 7, 2016 (one day before election day): Connie Watton, maid of Stephen Schwarzman - a Trump AND Kremlin friend - is pushed in front of a subway. (source) The woman who pushed her is assigned defense attorney Mathew Mari, known for his legal work for the Bonanno crime family. More on Schwarzman's relationship with Trump, and Saudi Arabia here. More on Schwarzman's links to Russia and Rosneft here. Schwarzman had also financed Kushner projects and gave Jared Kushner a loan (source).

November 8, 2016 (election day): Russian diplomat Sergei Krivov found unconscious at the Russian Consulate in New York and died on the scene. (source)

December 2016: FSB officers arrested in Russia. (source)

December 2016: Jared Kushner instructs Michael Flynn to sabotage US foreign policy. (source)

December 1 or 2, 2016: Kushner tries to set up secret back channel with Russians using Russians' secure facilities. (source)

December 1, 2016: Jared Kushner and Michael Flynn meet with Sergei Kislyak at Trump Tower (source)

December 13-14, 2016 (date not confirmed): Jared Kushner meets with Sergey Gorkov, "a graduate of the academy of the Federal Security Service, or FSB, the domestic intelligence arm of the former Soviet KGB, who was appointed by Putin to the post less than a year before his encounter with Kushner." (source)

December 19, 2016: Russia's ambassador to Turkey, Andrei Karlov, is killed. (source)

December 19, 2016: Russian diplomat to Latin America, Peter Polshikov, is killed. (source)

December 20, 2016: Methbot white paper published. (source)

December 26, 2016: Ex-KGB chief Oleg Erovinkin, who was suspected of helping draft the Trump dossier, found dead in the back of his car. (source)

December 29, 2016: Obama expels 35 Russian diplomats. (source)

December 29, 2016: KT McFarland sends email stating that "If there is a tit-for-tat escalation Trump will have difficulty improving relations with Russia, which has just thrown U.S.A. election to him," (source)

December 29, 2016: Flynn calls Kislyak to discuss the expelling of the diplomates and asks that the Russians not retaliate. (source)

January 6, 2017: Trump, McFarland, Pence, Flynn, Priebus, Pompeo and Bossert briefed with classified intelligence report by Brennan, Clapper, Comey. (source) That same day, DNI releases this report.

January 9, 2017: Russian Consul in Athens, Greece, Andrei Malanin, found dead in his apartment (source)

January 10, 2017: Buzzfeed publishes Steele Dossier. (source)

January 24, 2017: Peter Strzok interviews Michael Flynn. (source)

January 27, 2017: Russia's Ambassador to India, Alexander Kadakin, dies. (source)

January 30, 2017: New York State Department of Financial Services fines Deutsche Bank $425 million for massive Russian mirror trading scheme. (source)

February 2017: Trump's bodyguard, a Trump Organization lawyer and a third man raid Harold Bornstein's office, taking Trump's medical records. (source)

February 20, 2017: Vitaly Churkin, Russia's ambassador to the UN, dies suddenly in New York (source)

March 2, 2017: Ukrainian businessman with links to Trump found dead from undetermined causes. Oronov was Michael Cohen's brother's father-in-law, and Cohen did business with him. (source)

March 11, 2017: Trump fires Preet Bharara, who as US Attorney of SDNY had led the breakup of a massive Russian organized crime ring operating out of Trump Tower. (source)

March 16, 2017: laptop stolen from Secret Service agent's car while parked in her driveway. The laptop contained highly sensitive information including floor plans and evacuation protocol for Trump Tower. (source)

March 20, 2017: It's learned that the FBI had launched a counter intelligence investigation into the Trump campaign and Russian links in July of 2016. (source) (source)

March 21, 2017: A lawyer for a Putin-foe, Nikolai Gorokhov, reportedly thrown from a window in Moscow. Gorokhov was set to testify as a U.S. government witness in a money laundering case initiated by SDNY (led by Preet Bahrara). (source) "The alleged vehicle by which these dirty assets were washed clean was a Cyprus-registered company called Prevezon Holdings Ltd." (source) Prevezon is represented by Nataliya Veselnitskaya at the time that she attends the Trump Tower meeting in June of 2016. (source)

March 23, 2017: former Russian MP, Denis Voronenkov, shot dead in Kiev. (source)

March 30, 2017: FBI raids Trump-linked casino in Saipan. (source)

March 30, 2017: Mike Flynn asks for immunity. (source)

May 1, 2017: Scott Christianson, investigative reporter for McClatchy, publishes this:

May 9, 2017: Trump fires FBI director James Comey. (source)

May 2017 (date unclear): FBI opens counter intelligence investigation into Trump. (source)

May 10: 2017: Subpoenas issued to Michael Flynn by Senate Intelligence Committee. (source)

May 10, 2017: closed-door meeting in Oval Office with Russians. (source)

May 10, 2017: Roger Ailes falls in his home at Palm Beach Country. (source)

May 11, 2017: FBI raids GOP consulting firm in Maryland. (source)

May 14, 2017: Scott Christianson dies after falling down the stairs at his home (source)

May 14 2017: Republic operative Peter Smith found dead in Minnesota 10 days after speaking with WSJ (source)

Smith had said he'd been working with Michael Flynn (source).

May 17, 2017: Robert Mueller appointed special counsel (source).

May 18, 2017: Roger Ailes dies from head injury he'd sustained 8 days earlier (source).

May 20-21, 2017: Trump takes his first overseas trip as president to Saudi Arabia. During this trip, it's announced that Blackstone, led by Stephen Schwarzman, will manage Saudi Arabia's $20 billion investment fund. (source) Most of the investment will be in US infrastructure (source) During that trip, Trump also meets with Kirill Dmitriev of VEB bank (source)

July 4, 2017: body washes up on shore of Trump golf course in California. (source) (source)

July 26, 2017: Paul Manafort's home raided (source)

July 27, 2017: George Papadopoulos arrested. (source)

August 3, 2017: Secret Service kicked out of Trump Tower (source).

August 23, 2017: Russian ambassador to Sudan, Mirgayas Shirinsky, found dead. (source)

September 1, 2017: fire at Russian consulate in San Francisco (source).

September 14, 2017: Junior ditches Secret Service to go to Canada (source).

September 25, 2017: Richard Beckler, Trump's appointee as General Counsel of GSA dies (source). Beckler is the GSA staff member who'd assured Trump that requests for materials/emails from special counsel would not be honored (source).

September 27, 2017: Paul Horner, fake news writer who took credit for Trump’s win, dies of apparent overdose (source)

October 2017: Trump muses that he'll likely get to place 4 justices on the Supreme Court because of future health issues they may have (source).

October 16, 2017: Panama Papers journalist killed with a car bomb. (source)

October 25, 2017: Jared Kushner leaves on unannounced visit to Saudi Arabia.

October 26, 2017: Investigator (Catherine Hunt, a former FBI agent) working on behalf of 9/11 families suing Saudi Arabia interviews Jamal Khashoggi. Khashoggi texted Saudi officials that same day.

(as claimed by the lawyer working on behalf of the families)

October 28, 2018: Jared Kushner returns from unannounced visit to Saudi Arabia.

October 30, 2017: Papadopoulos guilty plea revealed (source)

November 3, 2017: Alex van der Zwaan is interviewed by the FBI. (source)

November 4, 2017: Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman consolidates power and arrests several princes, including Prince Alwaleed bin-Talal. (source) Trump had previously sold his yacht (1991) and the Plaza Hotel to Alwaleed bin-Talal (source).

November 2017: Trump picks fights with North Korea. (source)

November 17, 2017: Brett Kavanaugh added to short list of SCOTUS nominees. (source)

December 1, 2017: Michael Flynn pleads guilty to lying to the FBI. (source)

December 5, 2017: It's reported that Deutsche Bank received subpoena from Robert Mueller (source) In-depth Rachel Maddow segment on Deutsche Bank and the subpoena here.

December 16, 2017: Trump learns that Mueller has in his possession all of their transition emails on the .gov domain, obtained via the GSA. (source)

December 22, 2017: House Intelligence Committee interviews Rhona Graff

December 30, 2017: Fire at home linked to Ivanka's diamond business (source).

January 8, 2018: Fire at Trump Tower (source)

January 20, 2018: Former spokesman for Rick Gates, Glenn Selig, dies in Afghanistan hotel attack. Selig was a well-known Tampa Bay Area TV anchor. (source)

January 25, 2018: It's learned that Dutch intelligence had infiltrated Russian hacker group Cozy Bear and witnessed in real time as they attacked the State Department as well as the DNC. (source)

January 27, 2018: Steve Wynn resigns as RNC finance chair amid sexual assault allegations (source).

January 31, 2018: chartered train carrying GOP lawmakers to retreat crashes into truck (source).

February 16, 2018: Indictment of 12 Russians, outlining their methods of election interference (indictment sealed). (source)

February 20, 2018: Alex van der Zwaan pleads guilty to making false statements to FBI. (source)

February 22, 2018: Paul Manafort and Richard Gates indicted. (source)

February 23 - 27, 2018: Trump Tower Panama standoff with physical altercations and armed guards (source).

Week of March 4 - 10, 2018 (date unclear): FBI raids Trump-linked casino in Saipan a second time. (source)

March 4, 2018: Sergei Skripal and his daughter Yulia, found poisoned on a park bench in Salisbury. (source)

March 16, 2018: FBI Deputy Director Andrew McCabe fired. (source)

April 7, 2018: ANOTHER Trump Tower Fire - art dealer Todd Brassner dies (source); Michael Cohen texts Dennis Shields with a warning to "get out ASAP" (source).

April 9, 2018: FBI raids Michael Cohen's home, hotel room, and office (source).

April 13, 2018: RNC Finance Chair Elliot Broidy resigns in midst hush money payoff scandal (source).

April 15 or 16, 2018: Matthew Mellon (finance chair, NY RNC, and who made his fortune in cryptocurrency) dies of apparent overdose (source). Note - original link/story is now gone; here are alternate sources for that story: https://twitter.com/business/status/986135482013769728

April 24, 2018: Devin Nunes sends classified letter to Jeff Sessions regarding FBI informant (source) who is later revealed to be Stefan Halper. (source)

April 28, 2018: Fire at Trump Tower Azerbaijan (source).

Week of April 29, 2018: Devin Nunes issues subpoena to DOJ seeking information about FBI informant (later revealed to be Stefan Halper). (source)

June 20, 2018: New York State Department of Financial Services fines Deutsche Bank $205 million for "unlawful, unsafe and unsound conduct in its foreign exchange trading business." (source)

June 22, 2018: Trump-backed Katie Arrington seriously injured in head-in collision (source).

June 27, 2018: Justice Kennedy, whose son was Donald Trump's banker, unexpectedly announces retirement. (source) Trump and Kennedy reportedly had a special relationship (source).

July 4, 2018: delegation of Republicans go to Moscow. (source)

July 9, 2018: Brett Kavanaugh nominated to SCOTUS. (source)

July 14, 2018: Indictment of 12 Russians/internet research agency unsealed (source).

July 16, 2018: Maria Butina criminal complaint unsealed. (source)

July 16, 2018: Trump meets with Putin in Helsinki. (source)

July 17, 2018: Secret Service agent dies in Scotland. After falling ill at Trump's golf course in Turnberry, he died the day after the Helsinki meeting (source) (source). (obituary)

July 25, 2018: dead body found in waters off Trump NYC golf course (source).

August 6, 2018: Rand Paul goes to Russia. (source)

August 10, 2018: Dennis Shields - the same guy Cohen texted back in April - found dead in Trump Tower (source)

August 15, 2018: Trump revokes John Brennan's security clearance. (source)

August 16, 2018: mystery case before grand jury initiated. (source)

October 2, 2018: Jamal Khashoggi murdered on orders from Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman. (source) Trump later disputes the findings of the CIA and stands with MBS, stating that too much money is at stake. (source)

October 3, 2018: Nikki Hailey resigns, but resignation is not yet publicly announced. (source)

October 3, 2018: The Russian deputy attorney general (Saak Karapetyan) who reportedly directed Natalya Veselnitskaya (the lawyer who met with the Trump campaign in Trump Tower) dies in a helicopter crash (source). It was later reported that the pilot of the helicopter had been shot. (source)

October 9, 2018: Internet Research Agency (aka the troll farm) named in DOJ indictment (unsealed July 14, 2018) set on fire. (source)

October 9, 2018: Nikki Haley announces resignation.

October 9, 2018: New York Times reports that Saudi Arabia had ordered Khashoggi's murder.

October 17, 2018: Don McGahn resigns. (source)

October 19, 2018: "Project Lahkta" (Russian election interference) criminal complaint unsealed (source)

October 21, 2018: John Bolton goes to Russia to meet with Putin. (source)

October 22 - 27, 2018: week of terror begins with bombs at the home of George Soros. (source). It was followed by bombs sent to Bill and Hillary Clinton (Oct. 23); Barack Obama, CNN, John Brennan, Debbie Wasserman Schultz, Eric Holder and Maxine Waters (October 24); Robert de Niro and Joe Biden (October 25); and Cory Booker, James Clapper, Kamala Harris, and Tom Steyer (October 26). It ends with mass shooting at Tree of Life synagogue on October 27 (source).

October 30, 2018: Whitey Bulger killed. (source)

November 21, 2018: head of GRU agency accused of DNC hacks and Skripal poisoning dies, reportedly after a long illness. (source)

November 27, 2018: Methbot indictment unsealed at EDNY. (source)

November 28, 2018: Miami Herald publishes Perversion of Justice investigative report.

November 29, 2018: Michael Cohen pleads guilty. (source)

November 29, 2018: Massive raid at Deutsche Bank. (source)

November 29, 2018: FBI raids offices of Trump's former tax attorney, Chicago Alderman Ed Burke. (source)

December 4, 2018: Epstein trial set to begin. It is settled at the last minute, avoiding testimony from witnesses. (source)

December 13, 2018: FBI allegedly raids Chicago Alderman and former Trump tax attorney Ed Burke's office a second time (FBI neither confirms nor denies whether raid took place) (source).

December 22, 2018: Government shuts down. (source)

January 8, 2019: it's learned that Manafort passed polling data to Kilimnik in the summer of 2016. (source)

January 11, 2019: it's learned/reported that the FBI had opened a counter intelligence investigation into Trump in May of 2017. (source)

January 23, 2019: Michael Cohen postpones testimony before Congress, saying it's because Trump has been threatening him. (source)

January 25, 2019: Roger Stone arrested and indicted. (source) (source)

February 21, 2019: Judge rules that federal prosecutors (including Trump labor secretary Alex Acosta) broke the law in Epstein case. (source)

February 27, 2019: Michael Cohen testifies before Congress that Trump had directed him to threaten people as many as 500 times when he worked for him. (source) He also testifies that Felix Sater's office had been located on the 26th floor of Trump Tower - the same floor as Trump's office - and, in the location that would eventually become Cohen's office. (source)

And let's not forget the acid in Steve Bannon's bathroom: https://www.hollywoodreporter.com/news/bannons-vacated-florida-home-had-a-bathroom-destroyed-by-acid-washington-post-report-985356

Or how Michael Cohen threatened this reporter: https://twitter.com/cherijacobus/status/974831949285031936

Or the threats Stormy Daniels received: https://www.cnn.com/2018/03/25/politics/stormy-daniels-threat-60-minutes/index.html

A short history of Donald Trump's threats: https://www.propublica.org/article/a-short-history-of-threats-received-by-donald-trumps-opponents

#politics #donald trump #republicans #russia #money laundering #mobbed up #maria butina #ron paul #treason #traitors #tre45on #russian mafia #russian mob

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totallyjustabunchofhocuspocus · 11 days

Text

Fic: Something to Sink Your Teeth Into 11/?

Pairing: Buck/Tommy

Vampire/Witch!AU

Read on AO3

Cover Art, courtesy of the amazing @bornunderabluemoonbaby because my flabbers are still utterly gasted.

Evan had never felt the need to fill silences between him and Maddie with meaningless chatter.

With almost anyone else, he couldn’t stand the quiet. It reminded him too much of the house they’d grown up in. Sitting at the dining room table with no sound except the scrape of cutlery on plates. Walking through the door after school with a good grade or a sports achievement and knowing that no one cared to hear about it. Ignored birthdays. Holidays parties where he was supposed to sit quietly in a corner, his shirt collar tight around his neck and his shoes pinching his feet. Silence always reigned in the Buckley house.

Maddie was the only person who ever broke that suffocating silence; the only one who ever brought light and warmth and laughter into the house when he was child. But the quiet was bearable around her, as well. His parents’ silence was so heavy—full of anger and disappointment, crushing him under the weight of it. With Maddie, quiet could be comfortable. Soothing. A warm blanket of calm that draped over him and kept him warm and safe.

He'd never felt the need to fill silence when he was with Maddie, but he felt it now. There was so much he wanted to say, so many words that wanted to pour out of him in a torrent. He couldn’t bring himself to do it, though. Couldn’t bring himself to let all the things he wanted to say to his sister come out. Doing so felt…permanent. The things he wanted to tell her, the things he wanted to say—if he actually gave them voice it would be like admitting that this was it. This was the only chance he’d have to say them.

It would make what was about to happen real.

Maddie’s grip on the Jeep’s steering wheel was white knuckled as she pulled into the Greyhound station parking lot. She shouldn’t be here at all—it wouldn’t look good for her to be seen driving him—her brother who was recently banished for murdering her husband—anywhere. She’d refused to let him face this by himself, though, casting every stealth and hiding charm on them that she could, and enlisting her own familiar, a young peregrine falcon named Sebastian to help hide their actions from the rest of the coven. Their parents would probably figure it out, but they’d barely spoken to him since he was sentenced (even now, even now that he had finally fulfilled his only purpose in their eyes—sixteen years too late, but better late than never—they wouldn’t break the suffocating silence he’d grown up with) but Evan couldn’t imagine they would care so long as Maddie wasn’t caught.

Evan had a ticket to Columbus, Ohio waiting for him at the window and a list of cheap motels within walking distance of the Columbus bus station. Beyond that…he hadn’t thought beyond that, honestly. He had enough cash for a few days in whatever motel he ended up at. Maybe a week if he was careful.

The clock in dashboard said he had a little more than an hour until midnight. According to the bus schedule, he’d be well over the Ohio border by midnight. Out of the Pennsylvania high coven’s territory. A little more than an hour.

And then his coven bond would be severed.

Dissolved.

He would be cast out of the only world he’d ever known, rejected by every person in his life. No one would be allowed to help him, to take care of him…no other witch would be permitted to so much as let him crash on their couch for a night. From midnight tonight until the day he died, every witch he encountered would have to give him the chance to leave their presence peacefully or be driven away. Like a rabid dog. Like a criminal. Like the murderer his society now believed he was.

At midnight tonight, the seven days and seven nights the Pennsylvania high coven gave him to vacate their territory would end. His coven bond would end.

He…he wondered if it would hurt.

Losing his bond with Sally hadn’t hurt, exactly. There was no physical pain, no sense of wrenching, breaking, or severing. There was simply…darkness. His bond with his familiar had been a warm glow in the back of his mind since he was ten years old, a light as bright and soothing as his magic. Her gentle affection pulsed through their bond with every heartbeat; her smooth, rich voice sounded in his head every day. He’d grown so used to her voice—the help and advice she doled out without ever expecting anything in return; the way she never hesitated to tell him she was proud of him; the way she called him her little love like he was still the lost, lonely boy that she had shocked everyone in their coven by bonding with after nearly fifty years of declining to take on another Buckley witch.

It hadn’t hurt, but he’d still collapsed to his knees, nearly throwing up, as the space in his heart and mind that had been filled with the light of their bond went dark and empty. It had been sudden. Almost instantaneous. Only hours after his sentence had been handed down, shortly after it became common knowledge in the coven. She hadn’t even said goodbye.

He knew he shouldn’t have expected her to. He’d made Sally lie for them—more accurately, he’d forbidden her from speaking out at his trial at all, which he knew had gone a long way in convincing several members of the high coven of his guilt. Sally was one of the oldest and most respected familiars in the state—had been loyal to the Buckley coven line for almost three hundred years. The fact that she hadn’t “been willing” to testify on her witch’s behalf had carried weight. The only time in all their years together that he’d exerted the power a witch could hold over their familiar and he’d forced her to lie. To help condemn him for a crime he didn’t commit.

She’d believed in him enough to bond with him even though she’d refused to take on a witch in two generations. Sally had loved him, nurtured him, trained him, and he’d forced her to lie for him. Forced her to watch as he threw away all the potential she’d seen in him. He knew she loved Maddie too and would have argued vehemently on Maddie’s behalf once she realized how badly Doug was abusing her…but he was her witch. He was her priority. She wouldn’t have willingly sacrificed him for his sister.

He just wished he’d been able to say goodbye. To beg her for forgiveness. He wished his last memory of her was not her staring at him in horrified betrayal as he silenced her.

But what was done was done. There was no going back. And he couldn’t truly regret what he did…not if it kept Maddie safe.

“Evan,” Maddie said softly, her hands clenching and unclenching on the steering wheel as she stared out of the windshield. “I—call me as soon as you cross the border, okay? I want—I want to talk to you for as long…as long as…” She broke off with a choked sob, burying her face in her hands before flinging the door open and scrambling out.

Evan scrabbled at his seatbelt and slid out as she raced around the front of the vehicle, barely getting to his feet before Maddie threw her arms around his neck. “Mads,” he whispered, his own eyes prickling. He thought he’d cried himself out.

“I’m sorry,” she gasped. “Oh God, I’m so sorry I got you into this. I shouldn’t have left, I should never have—”

“No!” He almost shouted it, wrapping his arms as tightly around his sister as he could. “No, don’t say that. You, you, you’re so strong, Maddie. I’m so glad you were strong enough to leave…a-a-and I’m so glad you were strong enough to do what you had to do to protect yourself. I don’t…I don’t regret this, okay? I don’t. Being…being banished is, is, it’s nothing if it means you’re safe, okay? It’s nothing.” He pulled back slightly so he could look down at her, trying to force a smile. Judging by the way her tear-streaked face crumpled, he didn’t achieve the desired effect. “I’ll…I’ll be all right,” he promised, the words feeling hollow even to himself.

The truth was, he had no idea what he was going to do. How he was going to survive on his own. He just knew he was going to have to figure it out.

But Maddie was safe. As long as no one ever discovered their lie, she was safe. That was all that mattered. Everything else—being banished, losing Sally, eventually losing his magic—everything else he could handle as long as Maddie was safe.

Eventually, Maddie pulled back, wiping her eyes on her sleeves and breathing deeply. “I know,” she said. “I know. And I’m going to help.”

Evan sighed, his heart aching. “Mads, you know you can’t. Once the coven bond is gone, you can’t do—”

“I know,” Maddie interrupted, stepping around him to reach into the Jeep and popping the glove compartment. She pulled out a thick manila envelope and shoved it into his hands. Frowning, he opened it, and his eyes went wide when he saw the thick bundle of cash stuffed inside, as well as a folded sheaf of papers. “I was planning on leaving the state after I got away from Doug. Finding a new coven, getting set up somewhere where…where we could start over.” Her voice shook again. “Somewhere warm and sunny.”

“By the water,” he finished, his eyes filling despite his best efforts. How many times had they dreamed of running away together, once Evan was old enough to seek a new coven? Somewhere where they were both wanted and welcomed, where their coven saw them for who they were and not just what prestige they could bring to the bloodline?

Somewhere they could each find people who loved them, who they could love in return.

Stupid dreams. Stupid, childish dreams.

“There’s a little over ten thousand in there. And some of Grandma’s jewelry she left me—pawn it if you have to, okay? Don’t feel bad.” Evan gaped at her, and she just gave him a watery smile. “And I want you to take the Jeep.”

“What?! Maddie, no…no that’s—”

“I don’t want you to have to rely on bus tickets or…or hitchhiking or something. I already transferred the title to your name, so just…just don’t argue with me.” She bit her lip, reaching over to grab his hand and squeezing it hard.

“Your magic…your magic will take a long time to fade. Probably a couple years, at least.” Her face dropped, a sadness that had nothing to do with what was about to happen to him filling her eyes. “Maybe longer. The money won’t get you all the way through, but it’ll give you breathing room. As soon as it fades, you call me. I’ll stay in Mom and Dad’s house—I’ll stay as long as it takes, so you can always find me. You call me the day it’s gone, Evan. The instant. And I’ll come. I’ll come find you. Gloria’s going to ride the ‘grieving mother betrayed by a coven member’ sympathy all the way to a place on the high coven” she continued, referring to her mother-in-law, a powerful witch who had been the loudest voice calling for Evan’s death as retribution for Doug’s. “Once she has that, she won’t care about me or our family…I know she won’t. I’ll be able to leave the coven.”

“Maddie,” he started, the argument they’d been having since he’d been sentenced leaping to his tongue.

“Evan,” she interrupted, reaching up to put her hand over his mouth. “I—I’m not letting you lose everything for me and have to face it alone. I…I understand why I can’t come with you now. Doug’s family wouldn’t stand for it, and if they find out you’re innocent it’s both our heads. But I refuse to let this be the last time we see each other. I’m not losing you too, damn it! If it costs me my magic, so be it. I’ll leave the coven and let it fade. But I’m not losing you.” She pulled him into another fierce hug. “We will see each other again,” she swore. “We will. Just hang on for me, okay? Take care of yourself, and hang on until we can be a family again. A real family.” She stepped back and held one hand up, her pinky finger extended toward him.

It felt impossible. To think that Maddie would be willing to give up her magic, her bond with Sebastian, just to come and make a new life with him, even as much as she loved him…it felt impossible. But Maddie never lied to him. Slowly, he curled his pinky around hers and tried to believe.

As soon as Evan slid behind the wheel of the Jeep, he felt safer.

That was a completely irrational thought, of course, as Kinard immediately climbed in beside him…but he couldn’t deny that having the Jeep back made him feel better. It was the last connection he had to Maddie. The last gift she’d given him, her final act of care for him. He couldn’t help but feel safer in it. God, he’d been so scared it had been left behind at the mansion.

“We’re heading for Sunset,” Kinard said, buckling himself into the passenger seat. It struck Evan as odd that a vampire—and apparently nearly thousand year old vampire, what the fuck?—should feel the need to wear a seatbelt. It couldn’t even be habit…Kinard predated automobiles.

By, like, a lot.

“Where are we now?” he asked as he started the engine, listening to the familiar chug and cough before it caught. Kinard tilted his head slightly.

“Sounds like your alternator’s about to go,” he remarked. “And this time of day, the I-5’s about twenty minutes away. Just turn left on the street here.”

Evan ignored the comment about the alternator, and pulled out of the parking space, following the path that the other two vampires had just taken. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Kinard tense slightly as they pulled out onto the street, only relaxing when the clear, LA sunshine blazed through the windows, and he didn’t immediately start smoking. It hit Evan, then, just how much of a leap of faith Kinard had taken, trusting his spell to block the sun’s rays correctly. He’d even admitted back in the apartment that sunlight could still kill him.

Evan could not figure this vampire out.

Everything he knew, everything he’d ever been taught, everything he’d ever read or been told or heard from Sally told him that Kinard couldn’t be trusted. That Evan’s life was in mortal danger every second he spent in the vampire’s company. And yet…

And yet.

Apart from that initial bite, Kinard hadn’t hurt him. Granted, that wasn’t nothing…but if everything Kinard was saying was true (and as much as he didn’t want to admit it, he couldn’t actually think of a reason it made more sense for Kinard to lie to him than to simply…what had he said the other coven master would have done…cut Evan’s tongue out and lock him in a basement somewhere), then he had rescued Evan from that party. Evan still didn’t trust him—Kinard had bitten him, and his promises to let Evan go weren’t actually worth much until he did. But he had to admit that Kinard didn’t…didn’t seem to want to hurt him.

He had promised to let Evan go.

And he’d protected him from his own coven.

Granted, he kind of got the feeling that Sal had been more seeing if Kinard was bluffing than actually trying to kill Evan, but still.

Still…

He still didn’t understand why his magic had deserted him when he tried to attack Kinard. As much as he wanted to believe he was just overtired or needed more time to recover from being drained, he knew that wasn’t so. His magic had never behaved in a such a manner before, and he’d never heard of witch blood granting a vampire protection from that witch’s magic. One of the few positive things he could say for his parents was that they’d never neglected his education. The Buckley family library was extensive and well-stocked, and he and Maddie had received the very best magical training that money could buy until they’d bonded with their familiars. Even then, his parents had supplied anything and everything that Sally or Sebastian requested.

His magic was not gone, not incapacitated in any way. Now that he’d eaten something, he could feel the strength of his power building back quickly. Soon, he’d be good as new. But he had the distinct feeling that he still wouldn’t be able to use his magic against Kinard. It felt…wrong, somehow. His magic was a calm, gently pulsing glow in the back of his mind, no sense of alarm or unease despite being so close to the vampire. It hadn’t gotten any less disconcerting, but his magic had never steered him wrong before. Maybe…maybe Kinard really was telling the truth. Maybe he really didn’t want to hurt Evan.

“Thank you for coming with me to do this,” Kinard said suddenly. “I get that your situation makes talking to other witches…complicated.”

Despite himself, Evan snorted. “That’s an understatement,” he muttered. “But it’s not like I had much choice.” He didn’t mean it to come out quite as bitterly as it did. Kinard shifted in his seat, looking over at him with that same almost regretful expression he’d fixed on Evan back at the loft.

“I’m not—no, you have every right not to believe me. But I hope you’ll give me a chance to prove I’m not going to force you to do anything, Evan.”

Evan bit his lip, feeling as though he was being pulled in two separate directions. On one side was everything he knew to expect out of the vampire, based on what he’d been taught. On the other was the steady instinct of his magic, insisting that he was safe with this man, that there was no danger here. It was giving him a headache. “You want to prove something to me, keep your promise. As soon as we talk to your friends, I’m gone.”

For a brief second, Evan could have sword Kinard looked almost disappointed. “I gave you my word,” he said quietly. “As soon as we talk to Athena Grant and Howie, you’re free to go.” Evan knew it was crazy to entertain a vampire’s promise for anything. However, if things between the vampire and witch covens in LA really were as tense as Lucy had said, then he owed it to all the innocent witches in the city to do everything he could to prevent a coven war from erupting. He didn’t know what telling his story to Kinard’s friends would accomplish, but now that he’d had some time to calm down and think, he knew he had to get the word of Jonah’s betrayal to someone. A witch giving up another witch to vampires…that went beyond the laws of his banishment. That even went beyond his need to keep his real identity secret.

Not all covens were like the ones that he’d grown up in. He knew that. And for the sake of those people, he had to try to help.

He quickly orientated himself to where they were and headed for the highway, the silence stretching between them…but Evan was startled to realize that it wasn’t exactly uncomfortable. He was still tense. Still incredibly on edge. And yet, the silence wasn’t the suffocating quiet he’d grown so used to as a child, the kind of silence filled with anger and disdain. This silence didn’t feel dangerous.

It didn’t feel comfortable. There was none of the soothing warmth that his sister brought to the quiet. And yet…and yet he almost felt safe.

His thoughts were interrupted when Kinard’s phone rang. Fuck, was Evan’s phone still in the glovebox from last night? He hadn’t even thought to check. Kinard pulled his phone out of his pocket and frowned at it, thumbing the screen to accept the call.

“Howie? We’re still about twenty minutes out, I—whoa, whoa, whoa, slow down.” Kinard paused, listening to the other person, his face growing stonier by the second. “Gone? What do you mean he’s gone? Damn it, Howie…fuck. Okay. Okay, yeah, we’re pretty close to there. I’ll…I’ll see what I can do. I’ll call you in an hour.” He disconnected the call without saying goodbye and turned to look at Evan.

Evan did not like the look in his eyes.

“Change of plans, kid. Greenway’s gone missing.”

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