#If I was still in an Institute mood (I am - deeply) there was also the fact that Xigbar got a Pokeball at one point

[sysig]

Animal collection as a hobby, a perfect fit! (Patreon)

[kotoprotranslations]

EPISODE 7 LIGHT NOVEL Chapter 6-2 English Translation

The carriage swayed as it rattled along the road. Given the muddy conditions, the three riding within would be hard-pressed to call it a comfortable trip. A cheerful excursion, this was most certainly not.

“The director who asked you to come only recently rose to the position. He’s a former student of mine,” Clemens said.

“Student?” Owl repeated.

“Indeed. I took up a teaching position at that facility once upon a time, though only for a short while. It serves as a teaching hospital of sorts, training medical students while also providing care for patients.”

At this point, Clemens could say anything about his past and Owl wouldn’t even be fazed. Sure, he was a teacher somewhere for a while, why not? The information came in infrequent dribs and drabs, though, that Owl would allow himself some snark. “... So you taught them, what, polite bedside manner?”

“Rude.” Clemens’ gaze flicked away, though. “But, well, perhaps that was the case, after a fashion. There was a time where I was deeply interested in the human spirit, and how fluctuations of the mind and soul affected the physical corpus. I wrote a paper on the subject, purporting it as a psychosomatic affliction. For the most part, people thought the whole idea was ludicrous, but the former director of the institute took an interest and asked me to give some lectures on the topic.”

Owl hummed. “... Psychoanalysis, huh. It’s still an unorthodox practice, but I’ll admit, it’s sound and it gets results. I bet you use it on all those women you pick up as well.”

“I am begging you to stop saying it like that. All of those women are hurt by something or another, and I provide a balm for their souls, no more, no less, understand?”

“Sure, but what you say and how you say it are two very different things.”

“Hmm? You know, you’re rather combative today. What’s got you in such a foul mood?”

“Are you seriously...?” Owl’s face grew taut, mouth pressed into a thin, irritated line. He spat, “Maybe because there’s no one I can act all friendly with, since no one is telling me the essential information I need to know, did you ever think of that?!” He twisted away to glare out the window.

The wheels THUNKED outside, sending the whole car rocking. The route really was just awful; this old country road out in the sticks clearly needed some upkeep. They’d spent about twelve hours on the train before arriving in the countryside with wheat fields as far as the eye could see. They would occasionally pass a farmer or two brandishing a hoe or a rake, but otherwise the path was pretty well devoid of people. Far off in the distance, beyond a patch of woods nestled at the base of a sheer cliff, stood the small hill that was their destination. More specifically, their destination was the massive building surrounded by high walls that stood atop the hill. Owl’s eyes locked on the building, still tiny on the horizon. So that’s the place, huh....

A soft body leaned into Owl’s shoulder and a voice sighed, “It kind of looks like a medieval castle, huh? No place to go shopping, though. Suuuch a shame.”

“Get off, Elnora, you’re heavy.”

“Rude! I’m as light as a fairy!”

The third person in the carriage was not his partner Nick, but rather Elnora. Owl shoved her off. “... Why are you even here? Don’t you have a job?”

Elnora pouted. “Oh, please, I’m here for you!”

“For me?”

Elnora leaned back against Owl with a wink, the perfect image of innocence. “Yes! Because you said, ‘I have a bad feeling about bringing Black Rose Disease patients with me on this case,’ so you left Nick and Ellie to hold down the fort, and I thought, well, you’ll absolutely need someone else to be your assistant – an assistant more capable than Nick, as cute as Ellie, and willing and able to heal both body and soul. No matter how you slice it, I’m the only girl up for the job, don’t you think?”

Owl blinked. “Heal...?” He knew nuns could offer forgiveness, but healing? That sounded completely antithetical to Elnora’s entire being.

Elnora tilted her head to glare at Clemens and continued, “Besides, I can’t let that man out of my sight! Ignore me, will he? Hmph!” Then, as if to prove Owl’s point, she slammed the tips of her high heels directly into the priest’s shin.

“OW!” Clemens crumpled forward, clutching his leg. He raised his head to meet her eyes. “I wasn’t ignoring you, really,” he offered weakly.

“I don’t want to hear your excuses,” she sniffed. “I’m just going to keep a close eye on you until you come back to the Gefinesse Church.”

“I never said I was never coming back, did I? I would never leave your side.”

“Oh, I know, but all this wandering around you’re doing is starting to bother me. I want you to hurry up and come back so those perverted old men will stop leering at the nuns and the other women who come to pray!” Elnora stomped the floor, seething. “They’re so happy you’re gone, you know. They’re plotting to usurp you!”

This had most likely been building for a while, and now she’d reached her limit. Clemens’ absence had apparently caused some major ripples.

“Some of the believers are even saying you threw me away! Do I look like the sort of woman who’d let herself be thrown away by a guy like you?! Who do they think I am?! It’s downright degrading!” That, however, seemed to be the biggest straw. Elnora had worked herself up into an incandescent rage now, drumming her feet against the floor, but she reined herself in after a moment. “Plus... there’s something about this that bothers me,” she admitted, glancing out the window toward the building in the distance.

“What it is?” asked Owl.

“Oh, you want to know? Are you interested in me, Owl?” Elnora leaned against his shoulder again, but instead of actually answering, she deflected. “Well, if you get me the newest Stamison bag, I don’t mind telling you whatever you want to know.”

“Didn’t you just buy a new bag, though?” Clemens interjected.

“I didn’t buy it, a guy who came for confession bought it for me.”

“You didn’t make him buy it for you?”

“Oh, please. I don’t want anything. It just might’ve come up in conversation, is all.”

“I’m pretty sure all you talk about is what you want.”

“Well, then, what should I talk about? I don’t want to hear about some guy repenting because he had dessert, that’s boring. If two people are having a chat, it’s always more interesting if it’s the woman talking.”

To the average layperson, Clemens and Elnora were bickering the same as always. Owl, who’d been dealing with them for quite a bit longer than the average layperson, could tell that they bickered like this on purpose, so other people couldn’t get a word in edgewise. Anyone who tried to push their own agenda would find themselves left in the dust and the conversation steered in another direction before they could blink. It was clear that these two shared many secrets.

Now, everyone had secrets, obviously. Plenty of people in Owl’s orbit, in particular, had complex circumstances they weren’t willing to talk about. But Clemens and Elnora seemed to have a particularly complicated past with each other. So when Owl interrupted them, all he said was, “If you don’t want to say anything, fine, just don’t lie to Ellie.”

That shut them up quick. “... I wouldn’t,” Elnora mumbled awkwardly. “Not to Ellie.”

“Because you don’t want her to hate you,” agreed Owl, then turned away.

Elnora gazed out the window. “Looks like rain,” she murmured.

The carriage trundled on toward the building on the hill in silence after that.

Dark clouds brewed on the horizon.

Something golden flashed amid the storm clouds. A moment later, the air rumbled with the distant roar of thunder.

■■■■■■■■■

The medical facility run by the Gefinesse Faith looked like an old castle or the like from their carriage, but as they got closer it looked more like a proper institution, albeit one surrounded on all sides by heavily fortified walls.

Only one road led in and out of the facility, forcing the carriage to take a winding road up the hill. Partway up, though, they spotted a steep stone staircase and decided to hop out there and climb the rest of the way on foot. Up until that point they’d hardly seen anyone on the road leading in, but as they headed up the stairs more and more people appeared, and all of them were heading up to the building as well. Young, old, man, woman, it seemed people from all walks of life were present – the only thing seemingly tying them together was how unwell they all looked.

“That’s a lot of people,” Owl commented.

“That article in the newspaper helped spread the word. Now more and more people are flocking to the institute, apparently,” explained Clemens.

“... I would assume climbing the stairs would be an ordeal for a sick person, but....” Owl’s eyes flicked to the side. The slope off to the side of the steps was fairly gentle, but it was currently occupied by processing workers dragging luggage carriers back down the hill.

Elnora eyed them as well. “I wonder if they’d let us ride those,” she muttered.

“Those people are carrying property that belonged to deceased patients,” explained Clemens. “I wouldn’t recommend riding their carts.”

Elnora shut her mouth.

After about ten minutes of climbing, a massive, almost castle-like stone gate loomed in front of them, complete with a portcullis. The yawning mouth appeared to be swallowing people whole. Elnora tilted her head up. Her eyes caught on something etched into the stone above. “That crest....”

“What crest?” Owl also looked up and spotted it. For a second, it almost reminded him of the symbol he’d seen in the church on Teos Island, but on closer inspection the design was different.

“Is that a wild rose?” wondered Elnora. “Most hospitals have that rod thing as their symbol, but I guess this place is different.”

“Looks like it.”

“And those people over there have the same rose pattern on their clothes. Do you think they’re with the facility?” Elnora pointed below the gate, where people gathered around what looked like an intake hut for people entering the grounds – an inspection point, most likely. All the men there were indeed wearing matching rose-inscribed uniforms and were conducting thorough inspections of every single visitor.

“Ahh, those are security guards,” answered Clemens. “All members of staff here wear the same uniform. It’s important for medical personnel to look clean, after all.”

“So that’s why we look like this.” Elnora gently tugged at her sleeve.

All three of them had foregone their usual attire and instead wore outfits identical to the staff here. Clemens had made them both change in the carriage.

“Don’t want us to stand out as outsiders, huh?”

“Exactly.”

Owl shook out his fluttery sleeves a bit with a nod. Elnora, however, crossed her arms with the most blatant pout she could muster. “Ugh, this isn’t style at all,” she grumbled, tugging at the buttons around her neck. “It’s not even the right size, I can’t stand how hard it’s squeezing my chest.”

“I didn’t exactly have a choice, given that the plan didn’t include you coming with us in the first place,” Clemens chided, gently plucking her hand away from her neck. “I had to alter a dress that looked close enough to the women’s uniform in a hurry, so please just bear with it.” He strode off, completely ignoring the line of people waiting to get inside. “This way,” he called.

The people at the head of the procession signed what looked to be like a medical chart with so many sections to fill out that completing one would clearly take a while. That said, though, there really wasn’t a reason for the hospital to deny anyone admission, so every visitor passed through the gate without issue.

Clemens headed for the intake hut near the gate and pulled what looked to be like some sort of entry permit out of his pocket. The guard there offered Clemens a polite bow and urged him along. Owl and Elnora followed after him, but right when they reached the gate itself another uniformed man popped up and asked, “Mr. Clemens, sir, who might these children be? I don’t believe I recognize them.”

“Ahh, I’m just looking after these two for a time,” Clemens replied smoothly. “One is an orphan, and the other has been passed around from relative to relative due to disease. The director kindly offered them a place here when I brought it up with him.” He turned to the others and surreptitiously winked. “Rossignol, Anatra, introduce yourselves. These are the people who will be looking after you.”

The two caught on quickly and twisted their faces to look as pitiful as possible. “... Thank you... for taking us in,” mumbled Owl.

“What a dependable-looking doctor!” gushed Elnora.

Their eyes glittered with spirit, their hands clasped in front of them as if in prayer in the most obvious unnatural performance ever, yet the guard just blinked at them and then scratched his head with an embarrassed smile. “Ah, no, I’m just a guard, not a doctor, haha. Do I really look that impressive...? Well, let’s see, you have a permit from the director himself, so I don’t see an issue. Please, go right on in.”

The smiling guard pointed to the gate. The smiling trio nodded and headed right through –

“Ahh, but would you allow me to perform a health screening, just to be safe? Are either of you ill at present?”

– until the guard remembered what his actual job was and called out to them again. Owl clicked his tongue, thankfully too quiet to be heard.

“Yes, I suppose a wellness check would be necessary.” Clemens immediately grabbed Owl by the arm and herded him over to the hut. “Rossignol, go ahead and show him.”

“Show him what?”

“The marks on your neck.”

“Hah?” What was Clemens talking about? Owl twisted to ask, but before he could Clemens’ fingers lunged forward and deftly undid the button on his neck. “Hey --!”

Elnora gently pressed up against his back before he could say anything more. “Come on, you know you have to show him,” she purred.

Clemens popped the collar and spread it wide, baring Owl’s nape to the world. The guard peered closely at his collarbones for a bit, then nodded. “There does indeed appear to be a mark there, though it’ll require further tests to determine if it’s from the Black Rose Disease.”

Clemens nodded as well. “Hm, yes, please do. But I will say, the boy’s a bit delicate, so I would prefer if the director handled the tests, given that he’s a good friend of mine. I’ve already given him the boy’s chart, besides. Could you call him up for me? If you mention I brought the kids I’m sure he’ll kow it’s us.”

“Understood. I’ll let the director know right away. I’ll go ahead and register your names, so please feel free to wait in the plaza. It was, er... Rossignol and... Anatra, yes?”

“That’s correct, yes. Thank you, really, you’re a lifesaver.” Clemens beamed as he ushered the others along while the guard headed off to the reception area.

As Owl followed after the priest, he pressed a finger to his clavicle and demanded, “What is this?” His finger came back black, dyed by some sort of ink.

“I wouldn’t rub at that too hard if I were you, it’ll stain your collar and makeup doesn’t come out of clothes too well nowadays,” Clemens cautioned.

“Did you draw this? When?!”

“When you were dozing off in the train. I used Elnora’s makeup kit.”

“Why do you keep doing these things to me while I’m asleep?!” Owl’s voice started to rise... but then he paused, glanced around, and dropped his voice even lower, mindful of all the ears and eyes around. As he wrestled his collar button back into place, he hissed, “If you needed to do something like this you should’ve told me beforehand!”

“Ah, well, I expected you would find it rather indecent and get angry at me. Apologies.”

“And why ‘Rossignol’? The disguises weren’t enough, we needed fake names, too? Is there some reason you don’t want them knowing I’m a detective?”

“More or less. We’d rather this case be kept as private as possible.”

If looks could kill, Owl would be standing over Clemens’ dead body. “This is the first I’m hearing of this!” he whisper-screeched.

Luckily, looks couldn’t kill, so Clemens just kept walking into the grounds, supremely unconcerned. “A detective really ought to have one or two fake identities anyway.”

Elnora, however, had her own grievances to voice. “Okay, but why ‘Anatra’ for me? You know that means ‘duck,’ do I look like a lousy honking bird like that to you? Where’d you leave your naming sense?”

“Alas, it was just the first thing that came to mind.”

“So you’ve been thinking I’m a duck for a while now, is that what you’re saying? You just had that ready and raring to go?” Elnora slapped Clemens’ back as hard as she could, though the priest didn’t even flinch.

“Yeah, and I’m Rossignol,” grumbled Owl.

“Okay, but that one’s actually good, though, Rossignol means ‘nightingale,’” Elnora shot back. “It’s a cute little songbird, that’s adorable.”

“I’ve never sang a song before in my life.”

“That makes sense, since you’re a bad singer, too.”

Owl’s expression pinched tighter and tighter as the conversation went on, as if someone kept sticking a lemon in his mouth. “What do you mean, ‘too’? Get off my back. Not like it’s a problem if I do or don’t.”

“That’s not true,” Clemens said. “You’re the master key.”

“The master key?”

“Yes.” Clemens glanced back over his shoulder.

It took Owl a few seconds to get it. “... Antoine Rossignol, huh,” he muttered.

“Indeed. He was a cryptographer of rare and exceeding talent, a master key that could pry open any lock, much like how you can solve any mystery that comes your way.”

Owl had no response for that.

“I’ll be looking forward to your performance.” Clemens turned back around and kept walking.

The trio eventually came upon another sturdy gate of interwoven bars. By the looks of things, this place had to have been an important fort during wartime. The priest flashed his entry permit to the guards on either side as he approached and passed without issue.

The second gate opened out onto a plaza bracketed by stone buildings, almost like a little makeshift city. Plenty of people were walking around all over the place inside, but the only healthy-looking ones were the ones in uniform – the doctors – while the rest were patients. About half of the uniformed people seemed to be students, by the looks of them.

Elnora took in the sights. “It looks like a German castle in here.”

Owl glanced at her, brows furrowed. “Why German?”

Elnora gestured around. “The plaza, the tall towers, the fountain... and those steep rooftops, they look a lot like a German castle I saw way back when. I was wondering why I was getting so much déjà vu, you remember it too, right, Clemens?”

Clemens nodded. “Ahh, that place, hm. Now that brings me back. But it’s only been a few decades since the third-generation head finished building that one. This place has far more history behind it. The fountain is massive, and....” He pointed up to the tower. “You see how refined that bergfried is? The top floor there serves as a viewing platform.”

“Ooh, impressive. And that statue on top there... is that Apollo, maybe? It sticks out like a sore thumb compared to everything else.”

“Indeed. There are other statues of Apollo all over the place in here.”

While the two chattered on, lost in their own little world, Owl peered up at the bergfried. The statue decorating the top of the tower was a tall one, depicting Apollo with his bow drawn. Something flashed. He squinted. A part of the statue was glittering in the light. He stared up at it for several seconds, then glanced around and murmured, “Well, that’s not good.”

Elnora shot him a confused look. “What’s not good?”

Owl hummed and turned away. “Nothing....”

Clemens, apparently, didn’t hear their little exchange. “That fountain looks just like the ones in Germany as well,” he commented, pointing to the center of the plaza. “Of course, it’d be more obvious if this one weren’t dry, but still.”

Elnora nodded along as Clemens expounded on how the construction matched that of a well-known architect and how it might be their student or some such. I didn’t know those two have been to Germany before, Owl thought. He didn’t dare say that to them, though, lest that cause them to clam up. Each word out of their mouths oozed years of history and personal information. So Owl kept his mouth shut and listened closely even as he scanned the area again. All of the buildings around were tall, topped by Sitoggian pointed archways. It wasn’t an architectural style one saw often in the countryside – the local terrain likely had a hand in keeping them from crumbling away. He had to imagine there used to be a prosperous city here, ages and ages ago....

His eyes caught on one building ahead. That wasn’t Sitoggian. “What’s that?” he murmured to himself.

Sharp-eared Clemens heard him. “That would be a research lab,” he explained.

“That’s weird, though.” Owl pointed at the offending structure. “That’s Naebokkian architecture.”

“It is.”

Owl gestured more empathically at the oblong building, specifically its low roof and drawn-on arches on its gable walls. “Why is that the only Naebokkian building?”

“Because those were added to the existing building after it was originally built,” replied Clemens easily.

“Those are add-ons? Then why wouldn’t they make them look like the other buildings, then? It’s weird how it doesn’t match at all, it’s glaringly different.”

“You’re not wrong, but this isn’t the only odd building out. There’s another one further into the grounds that’s Exenanorian.”

“Why, though? They’re all so mismatched.”

“Again, you’re not wrong.” Clemens considered for a moment, then continued, “The institute may look like one big facility, but in truth, it’s actually split into three factions.”

Owl blinked. “Factions?”

“Indeed. It used to just be the one Lapertes faction, but it fractured, and now the three sides are all trying to strengthen their positions and remodel their buildings into different styles,” Clemens explained. “They may appear like a united front on the surface, but they’re anything but. The whole facility has become a maze – this place used to be a fairly simple fort, but now it’s got three small cities mixed together inside like a marble pattern.”

“... I see. So the architectural styles changed because of the fighting between the factions. That sounds like a pain to deal with.” Under his breath, Owl added, “I’ll get lost in here the second I go off-course....”

Clemens snickered. “You’re always getting lost, though,” he pointed out. “Your horrific sense of direction is your special power that keeps you out of trouble.”

“Shut up.” Owl kicked the priest in the shin, right where Elnora nailed him earlier.

“Ow!” Clemens shook his poor abused leg around. “Goodness me, I’m going to run out of leg at this rate.” He turned and started walking toward the center of the plaza. “I suppose I have no choice – let’s see if I can offer you something to fix that poor mood of yours....”

“Such as?” Owl trailed after him.

“Oh, don’t worry, you’ll love it.” Clemens led them to the dried-up fountain and pointed to a black stone monument erected past it “You can read the Greek alphabet, right, Owl?”

“The Greek alphabet? I did study it, technically, but I wouldn’t say I’m any good at it. I can manage simple vocabulary, at least.”

“I see. Then I’ll do the translating.”

Elnora stepped up to the monument and peered at the drawing etched into the stone. “Is this meant to be the sun?” she wondered aloud. The polished surface did indeed have a large circle with lines radiating off of it like the sun’s rays. The Greek characters in question were carved on top of it.

Owl stared at the monument for a moment, then asked Clemens, “Is this... supposed to be the thing you said I’d love?” Because to him, it sure looked like a regular old art piece.

“Well, you do, don’t you? I thought you loved codes like this.”

“Codes – this is a code?”

“Oh, yes. This slab of rock has been here for a very long time, but no one has been able to figure out what the message on it is supposed to mean. The knowledge was lost as the generations passed and the institute changed hands. It makes no sense even when translated.”

“... And you want me to solve it? This is probably just a poem or something, isn’t it?”

“I wouldn’t know. But we have some time to kill before the director gets here, so we might as well, no?” Clemens’s finger traced the letters as he intoned:

“So spoke Ptolemy:

The truth may only be found in Apollo’s golden crown where the stars align

Magicians, reveal your strength through the star charts and trace your path.”

“... Ptolemy.” Owl rubbed his chin. “That was the Greek astronomer who proposed a theory on the movements of celestial bodies, if I remember right.”

“You do. He’s quite the famous wise man.”

“So the stuff that’s written inside the sun here has to do with star charts?”

“Possibly. Let me see, these words here mean....”

“No, wait a minute.”

“Hm?”

Owl’s eyes roved around the plaza. His gaze flicked to the dried-up fountain, then to the oddly numerous stone benches surrounding it, around twenty or thirty in total. “... That’s it.”

“Owl?”

“Give me a second.”

He jogged off toward the closest bench, paused for a second to inspect it, found nothing, then jogged off again. The benches were small – most of them could only seat one or two people at a time, though they came in a wide range of colors. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason to how they were scattered around the fountain, instead sitting in a chaotic jumble of stone.

“Hey, Owl? What’re you doing?” called Elnora.

Owl didn’t answer until he’d checked every single bench and jogged back to the other two. “Just as I thought,” he declared.

“Hm?” Clemens cocked his head.

“I found some strange letters carved into some of the stones.”

A smile flashed across Clemens’ face. “Impressive. I didn’t think you’d find those before I could mention them.”

“We were talking about astronomy, and there was a drawing of a sun with that weird message, right near an obviously suspicious fountain,” Owl pointed out nonchalantly. Of course I’d go look.”

“So you think the fountain is suspicious.”

“No, most of the benches and the fountain aren’t.”

“They aren’t?”

Owl whipped his notebook out, scribbled something down, and flipped it around to show Clemens.

“What is this?” The priest peered at the notebook.

“Aerial view of the fountain and the layout of the benches. Most of them are dummies.”

“Dummies – ah, fakes? Truly? What makes you say that?”

“We’re up on a hill and there are no canals or waterways around. It would cost a lot of money to keep a fountain running in a place like that, not to mention a sizable pump and a windmill to keep it all moving. Even in Paris, it supposedly costs more to keep the fountains going in the palace gardens than the palaces themselves. So the fountain here, then, is obviously a decoration, not a working fountain, and therefore has some other purpose. The real meaning here is in the benches – though only six of them had important letters carved into them. Four others had other intriguing carvings on them, but they weren’t written in Greek so we can ignore those.”

“Six, hm....” Clemens scanned the notebook more closely. Six of the benches on the little map had marks next to them. “What do these mean?”

“They’re the locations of the benches with the inscribed letters, two each on the seats. Clockwise from the monument, they go Δί, Αφ, Άρ, φε, Ερ, and Κρ.”

“Those are certainly Greek letters, but what are they?”

“We know this all has to do with astronomy, so it’s simple – they’re the first two letters of the planets Jupiter, Venus, Mars, the moon, Mercury, and Saturn, in that order. The benches represent celestial bodies.” Owl marked down the symbols of the various planets in turn, then turned and did the same to the stone monument itself. “All the pieces are in place. So, Clemens, read what’s written inside the sun from top to bottom.”

“Understood.” Clemens’ finger once again traced the text. “Let’s see... there are seven lines of text. Starting from the top....”

Owl copied everything down as Clemens said it. The seven lines went thusly:

Half the sun pulls the silver bow

⚪A messenger of the gods travels to and fro across all realms

⚪A goddess accompanied by the Charites

⚪A great flame shines down upon us

⚪Chariots sing of victory in war

Thunder booms within the child shunned by his father

The wheel of fate turns within the god of time

When he was done, Owl tapped his pen against the page silently. Clemens peeked at what he’d written and blinked. “What are those circles?” he queried. “Those weren’t part of the lines.”

“Those are just marks to indicate which lines are the truth.”

“The truth?”

“From the first message. ‘So spoke Ptolemy, the truth may only be found in Apollo’s golden crown where the stars align.’”

“I don’t follow. What does it mean?”

Owl rolled his eyes. “I don’t know, maybe try using your brain?” he snarked. “You were a teacher here, weren’t you?”

Clemens’s lips twitched in a smile. It would seem my little plan paid off just as I thought. Plopping him in front of a good code is doing wonders for his mood. He did as instructed, scanning Owl’s notes once more. “Names of planets inscribed on the benches...” he murmured. “Perhaps they’re listed in Ptolemy’s proposed order? That would be the simplest solution.”

“You’re on the right track, but that would make the order the moon, Mercury, Venus, the sun, Mars, Jupiter, and Saturn. It would be too difficult to put all of those in a single line,” pointed out Owl.

“Then the ‘truth found in Apollo’s golden crown’ must be a clue... what does it mean?”

“Apollo is a sun god, so the ‘golden crown’ is the ring of fire around the sun.” Owl tapped the rays of light encircling the sun on the monument. “I marked the four lines that were actually inside the golden crown with a circle in my notes, since those would be the truth. The other three are just there to misdirect.”

“I see. You’re right, these four are etched on top of the sun.”

“And one of those lines is ‘a messenger of the gods travels to and fro across all realms.’”

“A ‘messenger of the gods,’ above the sun’s rays....” Clemens’ eyes lit up. “Ahh, that must be Hermes! Yes, if I recall, one of his symbols was the planet Mercury.”

Owl tapped the symbol for Mercury on his notes. “Right, because in Greek mythology many of the gods were tied to specific celestial bodies. You can probably figure out the rest, right?”

Clemens gestured for him to continue.

“The next one is ‘a goddess accompanied by the Charites.’ Otherwise known as the Graces, the Charites are three goddesses of beauty and grace who serve as attendants of the goddess Aphrodite.”

“Venus,” confirmed Clemens.

“Next, ‘a great flame shines down upon us.’ Obviously the sun. Apollo. Next. ‘Chariots’ and ‘war’ indicate Ares, the god of war, associated with Mars.” As Clemens watched, Owl drew a line connecting the four planets. “Mercury, Venus, the sun, and Mars. Connect these four in the Ptolemaic order, and there’s one spot where the line intersects.” Owl tapped the spot in question.

“Fascinating,” Clemens breathed, peering down at the crossed line. “Now where in the world is this... I suppose we’ll just have to walk over in person and find out. It would be easier if we had a rope, but ah, well, there are plenty of landmarks around.”

Owl followed Clemens’ directions, first moving to stand by the Mercury bench before walking in a straight line to the Venus bench. That straight line included a portion of the fountain and some benches, but Owl ignored them entirely, stepping over the seats and walking through the dried basin like none of it existed. He did the same from the Venus bench to the stone monument that represented the sun, then again from the monument toward the Mars bench....

“... Didn’t I step on this bench before?”

Owl paused with his leg hovering over one of the benches in his path that he’d crossed over moving from Mercury to Venus. Clemens drew closer. “This must be where the path overlaps, then.”

“Apparently.”

Owl tilted his head, inspecting the bench thoroughly. The polished surface of this bench was completely unmarred, no carvings or anything on either the seat or the sides. It was, by all accounts, a completely normal stone bench – a seat, really, since it could only fit one person.

“It looks like normal rock... but...?” Owl’s eyes narrowed. Or rather, eye singular, the one that wore his monocle. “... There are traces of alchemy here,” he reported, bending down to get a better look. Some staff members nearby shot him odd looks, but he paid them no mind. He ran his hands over the stone surface multiple times. “Bologna stone?” he muttered to himself.

“Bolonga stone?” Clemens echoed. “You mean the magic glowing stone?”

“Yeah. It’s been pretty cleverly buried in regular granite here. It glows in the dark. Clemens, tug your hood up and hold it so no light gets in.” Meanwhile, Owl pulled his own hood off and draped it over his head while he bent down over the stone, forming a curtain that blocked the light so he could inspect the stone in darkness.

Elnora, who had been standing off to the side for a while watching the proceedings, finally piped up with arched bows. “... You know you guys just look like weirdos, right?” How else was someone supposed to think of a young man hanging over a piece of rock with a hood curtain on his head?

“Yes, but he’s been a weirdo the whole time,” Clemens replied amiably, still with his hood drawn tight and valiantly bearing the weight of all the staring directed his way.

“Oh, don’t you worry, you’re plenty weird yourself,” Elnora assured him with a lukewarm smile that wiped the smile from Clemens’ face.

Owl, supremely unbothered, did something or other under his hood for a while, then nodded and pulled it off his head. “I see.”

“Did you figure something out?” asked Clemens.

Owl waved his finger in a circle. “The stone is a map of the plaza.”

“A map?”

“Yeah. You wouldn’t be able to see it unless it’s dark, but the phosphorescent stone embedded in the seat is a perfect match for the placements of the benches.

“Truly?” Clemens peered at the seat again, but he couldn’t see the difference. Bolonga stone didn’t glow in bright places.

Owl went on, “So, since it’s a map, that got me thinking about the second part of that first message you read, the ‘magicians, reveal your strength through the star charts and trace your path.’”

“‘Trace your path,’ meaning the path you just walked around the plaza, yes?”

“Right. And then there’s the ‘reveal your strength’ bit. If we can substitute alchemist for magician... in theory, a lock like this usually responds to magic, so.” Owl muttered to himself as he opened his right hand, revealing a golden light building around his pointer finger. Shimmering heat began to waft around the light. He pressed his fingertip to the stone. “Trace the light....” Then he blinked and glanced up at Clemens. “By the way, what’s supposed to happen when we solve the mystery of the monument?” Tracing the path like this was the last step. Surely Clemens knew.

Clemens, however, shook his head and shrugged. “Who knows?”

“You don’t?”

“I don’t. Didn’t I say before that every time the director’s chair changed hands more and more information about the monument was lost? No one knows a thing about it. The current director’s even said that there aren’t any records of where it came from or when it got here and considers it an unsolvable mystery. The current leading theory is that the founder left it here.”

“They just thought it might be a regular old poem or something, huh. But there’s a non-zero chance this is a self-destruct mechanism?”

“Maybe? Though would someone really go to all the trouble of making it self-destruct?”

The two stared silently at each other. Owl thought for a moment, staring at the stone that might explode on him....

“Well, whatever.”

Then with a shrug and a nod, he traced the path he walked earlier onto the stone without hesitation, pouring his energy into the rock.

“You’re really doing it?!” Clemens yelped.

“Yeah, of course I am. I’m curious. And I can’t stand leaving an experiment unfinished.”

“Even thought it might explode?”

“We’ll cross that bridge if we come to it.” Owl glanced back over to Clemens for a moment, perfectly straight-faced. “But either way it’s not my fault, you’re the one who showed it to me.”

“Yeah, that’s on you, Clemens,” Elnora agreed.

Clemens winced. “I may have been a bit hasty –”

PLUNK!!

Just then, something made a noise near the fountain, almost like a plug being pulled out.

“Huh?” Owl’s head shot up, startled. He whirled around. “... What’s that?” he wondered aloud. A small hole had opened up near the center of the fountain where before there had just been a smooth expanse of stone. That was most likely the source of the noise.

Clemens peered at it. “... Is this... a drain line?”

“A what now?”

“You’ve never heard of it? They’re holes drilled into fountains that lead underground to prevent rainwater from accumulating. They’re used when you need to clean a fountain as well, of course.”

“I know that much!” Owl snapped. His eyes darted to the monument, then the plaza, then back to the new little opening at his feet.... “Is this really it? It just opened up a hole?!”

“Looks like it.”

Owl’s mind boggled. “But, such a complex mechanism... it just, opens the drain line?”

“Looks like it.” repeated Clemens.

“It wasn’t a self-destruct button?”

“Did you want it to be?” Clemens patted his shoulder, as if to calm him down.

Owl tore into him for a while after that, punctuating his rant with a final kick to the shin.

“OW!”

original written by Nagaya Kawaji here

[timeless-clarity]

Women Making It - Photo Essay

This series of images was created in late 2017 at the Glasgow Women’s Library (GWL) in Glasgow, Scotland. GWL is the only museum in the UK dedicated entirely to the lives of women. At the time of this shoot I was studying a BA in Photography at Edinburgh Napier University. All of the work I had been producing that year was deeply feminist and asked a lot of questions about societal norms and the needs of women. I connected with GWL to see if I could learn more about their history and what they offer. And request to make a photo series. They had women’s-only art classes called ‘Women Making It’ which still run at present! See this link: https://womenslibrary.org.uk/event/women-making-it-13/2023-08-11/

All the events and classes that they run are made with the intent of being a safe space for women, both in the local community and visiting. The women who attended ‘Women Making It’ were a range of ages coming from different backgrounds. What most of these women had in common was having experienced patriarchal oppression, either at some point in their lives or still ongoing. Some through domestic abuse and others through societal pressure or witnessing the oppression of those close to them. You can see in these images, the women were preparing costumes and props and rehearsing for a play. As well as taking a look in the GWL archives for some inspiration. In this play they would act out true stories of abuse experienced by women in the local community. As a form of community catharsis and solidarity. Many of these women came from traditional Islamic backgrounds and had felt the institutional wrath of shame controlling them. Arranged marriages were common as well as unwanted pregnancies. Domestic abuse and particular cultural narratives and expectations placed on these women. The play explored the emotional wounds of these events as well as touching on coping through substance abuse and experiencing suicidal thoughts.

A few months before beginning this project I had recently got out of a domestic abuse situation with an ex-partner, who I was living with. All the courage it took me to take back life for myself lead me to use my photography, to passionately advocate for other women who have had a similar struggles. I realised that most women in my family had also been extremely oppressed by patriarchy, most to the point of Stockholm syndrome.

Some of the words I heard growing up that shaped my reality, that became my thought patterns that justified me living with domestic abuse:

“The amount of pain that I can bare shows that I am a good person. How I can control myself and put the needs of others first is proof that I’m a good person, a good partner, a good woman.”

“How much I can take is evidence that I’m a strong person”

“When he’s in a good mood he’s great, when he’s in a bad mood he’s terrible” As a certified EFT(Emotional Freedom Techniques) Practitioner, I have an active role in supporting people who have survived trauma. If you feel the call to reach out to me for support please do, you are absolutely so welcome.

All my love,

Claire

[troublcmakcrs]

“Gah!—fuck!—I am—” Tweek snapped his mouth shut, suddenly remembering that the last thing he wanted was to admit to being a tweaker, as it could be held against him.  People could look at him and tell what he was, and there was no chance of him convincing a jury that he wasn’t, but for peace of mind, he told himself it helped not to say it.

He wanted to resent Kenny for calling him ‘crazy’—only he was allowed to consistently refer to himself as such, and everyone else was beholden to his moods—but then Kenny jabbed his nails into Tweek’s pale skin.  Tweek had done that for years to stave off panic attacks, the biting sting often shocking some more rationality into him.

He had also been here a number of times for various minor offenses—it was inevitable if you were a homeless psycho—but that didn’t mean it got much easier.  His father threatened him with an institution for years, correcting undesirable behavior with the reminder that he might get taken away and locked up in ‘that place’ with all the deranged, screaming people.  In hindsight, his parents never would have sent him to live in a hospital full-time, but it was too late; the fear of confinement had already been deeply instilled in him.  Prison cell or mental hospital, it didn’t matter.

“I don’t wanna make an ins-s—insanity defense,” he breathed.  “They still—egh—lock you up for that, too.”  Instinctively, Tweek told himself he would rather take his chances in prison than in the hospital, just because he had already experienced a small glimpse of the latter and had no desire to get a more thorough one.  But almost as soon as it cropped up, the thought dissipated as the horrors of spending life in prison occurred to him.

His grip on the bars loosened a little, held in place more from Kenny’s efforts than his own at this point.  “How long’ve we been here?” he murmured, looking out into the room beyond.  He could see the thin gray profile of a wall clock, angled carefully and mockingly away from the prisoners.  If he listened closely, he was convinced he could hear the chatter and laughter of officers, undoubtedly giggling about the two bums they’d picked up.

“It’s not going to be fine.”  He tensed back up, and his sighs turned into sharp hisses.  “I feel like we’ve been here f-forever.”  He pulled his head back to beat it against the bars again but bumped into Kenny’s nose instead.  “I’ve—nh—gotta get outta… outta here…”

@howdyneighborr

Kenny shifted his flat ass on the unforgiving bench, trying to find the familiar groove that would relieve the pressure in his hips without hurting his back at the same time. He’d been thrown in this exact cell a handful of times for various reasons, but that didn’t mean he ever got accustomed to the dig of bone on wood. He leaned coolly against the sterile, white-painted bricks that made three of the four walls around them, content to watch Tweek pace. That is, until he started bashing his brains out against the metal grate that completed their pen. The sprawling man rolled his eyes and pushed up from his seat. He couldn’t settle into his sweet spot anyway.

Then, the taller blonde strode across the minimal berth of their shared space. His longer fingers encircled Tweek’s wrists and he pressed his forehead to the back of the shorter man’s head, effectively forcing limited mobility and stopping him from cracking the front of his noggin open like an egg about to hit a hot skillet. “Dude, you have got to chill out,” he whispered. “You aren’t doing us any favors by walking back and forth like a… tweaker.” Kenny’s lips curled away from his teeth in a gibing smirk, though the tension in his expression was not directed at Tweek. “I know you’re crazy, but now’s not the time to lay the groundwork for an insanity plea.” He squeezed and dug his nails into the other’s papery skin, hoping the slightly uncomfortable sensation would divert his attention. “It’s just possession. We’ll be fine.”

[cazimagines]

So I was originally gonna send this to your sub account but decided not to. But anyway so the question is what do you think the Daniel characters would be in the a/b/o universe.

Oooo I have lots of thoughts on this!

Zemo:

I've read lots of omega Zemo stuff, and frankly, I love it. But honestly, I see him as likely a beta. He can go either way ya know, bottom or top. He wouldn't experience heats or ruts but loves to either keep an omega with him at all times, or be completely owned by an alpha, or even just have another beta partner. I like to think his wife would have been a beta as well.

Laszlo:

Omega. Omega omega omega. I know I am like religiously write sub-Laszlo stuff, in fact, I have only ever written sub-Laszlo though I do have plans for a dom Laszlo one-shot to write, but I do see him as such a sub. So that's why I go for omega. He is certainly a fiery omega though. The whole, I don't need an alpha type (until he gets his heat and then he has to lock himself away in his room so he doesn't jump on John) and with the reputation and position of power, he has most when here of him just assume he is an Alpha. So what a surprise most people get when they smell the sweet scent of him. In that time omega's would still be looked down upon so he does a lot of activism as well and protects young omegas who have recently had their first heat in his institute.

Andrea:

I mean is this even needed to be said? Definitely an omega. You just take one look at him and it screams omega. He would be the extremely needy type, even when he wasn't in heat. As soon as he picks up on your scent he is all over you, begging you to be inside of him. When he is in heat it's even worse. You are essentially are not allowed to leave the bed because as soon as you do he is crying out saying he needs you again to help him with his heat.

Niki:

While I do love sub!Niki, I think we can all agree dom Niki is what most people lean-to. He's very arrogant and a dick which is like alpha traits 101. He needs his omega with him at all times and he hates it if other drivers, aka James, tries to flirt with them, He would be constantly marking you and scenting you as a reminder to everyone else that you belong to him.

Ernst:

With those anger issues? Definitely an alpha. Most people on the ship are alpha's and so tensions run high and he gets into fights a lot with the others and if you go into heat. Oh boy. He is very possessive over you and won't let you be near any of the other alpha's till it is over because he doesn't want to risk anything. He has stamina though and will be kind to you through your heat, helping you all the time in any way he can.

Alex Kerner:

Like with Andrea, he is an omega. A needy one but unlike Andrea, he might be more withheld and considerate for what you want to do as well. Though he wants to be on you and with you whenever he can and during his heat he doesn't want you going too far. He would beg to be marked by you though. He feels like the guy who falls deeply in love at first sight and knows straight away he wants to be your mate for life.

Sebastian:

He's a beta! As I say he is a wild card and without smelling him, you can't tell from how he acts if he is an alpha or a omega and that's because he is a mix and can be in either position making him a beta. Though he does like leaning on more of a bottom side he is happy too and enjoys also being with an omega and railing them senseless.

David:

Omega. I was debating about him being a beta but thinking about it, he is hopeless and needs someone to look after him and make all his decisions and that is just omega hands down. He needs an Alpha to come in and look after him so he doesn't have to make any hard decisions, just being there to satisfy his alpha.

Tony:

Omega! Though like power omega? He is well known, he has power and reputation but it is clear to everyone he is an omega. Still, he doesn't let that get to him. He shows that he is as capable as an Alpha. Still, when he goes into heat he does become so needy for you. He is already a loving partner but in heat, it is turned up to the max. He is covering you with lots of kisses and hugging you so that you will help him through his heat. He craves you so much and loves you so dearly.

Alex Garel:

Another beta! He's so soft with all those jumpers and cardigans he wears but my god he can turn up the intensity of it. I think he would date other beta's so he gets a mix of being a top and a bottom as he doesn't like to constantly stick to just one thing. His mood can change a lot and so does what he wants to do. But if he does end up with an alpha or omega partner he is also very loving to them.

[longitudinalwaveme]

Arkham Files: The Top

Hugo Strange: From the patient files of Dr. Hugo Strange, director of Arkham Asylum. Patient: Roscoe Dillon, also known as the Top. Patient suffers from Bipolar Disorder, type one, and is on the autism spectrum. Session One. Good day, Mr. Dillon. 

The Top: I am not autistic, Doctor Hugo Strange.

Hugo Strange: Mr. Dillon, the psychologist at Iron Heights has tested you for the condition multiple times, and the results are always consistent with your being on the autism spectrum. What’s more, the psychological tests we gave to you upon your arrival to Arkham Asylum also suggest that you are, indeed, autistic. 

The Top: I do not care what that quack at Iron Heights says, Doctor Hugo Strange. I am not intellectually subnormal. 

Hugo Strange: Mr. Dillon, being on the autism spectrum has nothing to do with your level of intelligence. It simply means that you have difficulty in understanding social cues. 

The Top: In my experience, it is the world that has trouble understanding me, not the other way around. I do not understand why everyone believes that I am odd because I enjoy educating them about tops. Tops are fascinating; certainly much more so than sports or beer or whatever else it is that so-called “normal” people enjoy. 

Hugo Strange: Tops? 

The Top: Yes, tops. You know, Doctor Hugo Strange, the basic principles involved in the spinning of a top are also those used in gyroscopes, guided missile systems, and the gyro stabilizers in ocean liners. Tops are amazing! 

Hugo Strange: Tops? 

The Top: Yes, Doctor Hugo Strange. Tops! 

Hugo Strange: Tops? As in, the children’s toy? 

The Top: Is there something wrong with your hearing, Doctor Hugo Strange? 

Hugo Strange: Do you mean to tell me that, in calling yourself the Top, you are not making a claim as to your superiority, but rather making a reference to a toy? 

The Top: Actually, Doctor Hugo Strange, I am doing both. I am both a living top and at the top of my profession. My costume has stripes on it so that I may better emulate a top when I spin. 

Hugo Strange: Your costume is intended to make you look like a giant top? 

The Top: It is, Doctor Hugo Strange. Why? 

Hugo Strange: Well, that certainly explains its...unusual appearance. 

The Top: (Offended) My costume is no more unusual than that of the Trickster or the Mirror Master, Doctor Hugo Strange. 

Hugo Strange: I didn’t say that it was, Mr. Dillon. 

The Top: Good. (Pause) Now, Doctor Hugo Strange, would you care to explain why I was transported to an institution a thousand miles away from my base of operations upon my most recent arrest? 

Hugo Strange: I wish I knew myself, Mr. Dillon. The workings of the judicial system as it regards the costumed population never cease to bewilder me. However, I must say that I am glad to have you here, Mr. Dillon. You are clearly mentally ill, and Iron Heights clearly has made no progress in treating your condition. 

The Top: I am not mentally ill, Doctor Hugo Strange! 

Hugo Strange: Mr. Dillon, mental illness is not a sign of a moral or intellectual deficit. It simply means that your brain has become diseased, just as any other part of your body might. 

The Top: Nevertheless, I maintain that I am not mentally ill, Doctor Hugo Strange. 

Doctor Strange: According to your record, when you first became the Top, you threatened to blow up half the world with a, quote, “atomic grenade”  if all the governments of the world did not acknowledge you as the ruler of the world within ten hours. You did this while under the belief that you would somehow be safe on the other side of the planet should the bomb go off. Mr. Dillon, can you spot the flaw in this plan? You are obviously an intelligent man. 

The Top: Of course I can, Doctor Hugo Strange. If half the planet was blown up, the entire planet would have been devastated. Even if I was on the other side of the planet from the epicenter of the explosion, I likely still would have been killed.

Hugo Strange: (Shocked) Wait...you actually built an atomic grenade with the power to blow up half the world? 

The Top: Of course. I am a genius, Doctor Hugo Strange. 

Hugo Strange: You built an atomic grenade that could spin around like a top and possessed the capacity to blow up half the world? 

The Top: You have a dreadful habit of repeating yourself, Doctor Hugo Strange. But yes, I did. 

Hugo Strange: Then all those other tops your record claims you invented actually worked as well? And you actually made a giant top-shaped satellite that you launched into orbit? 

The Top: I am supposed to have a mood disorder, not a psychotic disorder, Dr. Hugo Strange. 

Hugo Strange: Well, yes, but severe bouts of mania and depression are known to sometimes bring on psychotic symptoms. I had thought that your claims of having successfully invented such an improbable array of top-shaped weapons were the result of delusions brought on by one of your mood episodes. 

The Top: No. The quack at Iron Heights says that I was having a manic episode during my attempt to become ruler of the Earth, and that that is why I did not realize the flaws in my plan. They allege that I was having “mood-congruent delusions of grandeur and invulnerability”, but at no point did they accuse me of outright hallucinating. Surely that is in the report, Doctor Hugo Strange. 

Hugo Strange: (Annoyed, but not with the Top) While I do not fully agree with your assertions that the psychologist at Iron Heights is a quack, Mr. Dillon, I must admit that they are distinctly lacking in some key areas-such as specifying which of your behaviors and claims were the results of a mood episode and which were not. Knowing that you have had at least five manic episodes and at least three depressive episodes is worthwhile knowledge, but without adequate context, how do they expect me to know what behaviors are a sign that you are no longer in a healthy state of mind? 

The Top: Three depressive episodes, Doctor Hugo Strange? As far as I am aware, the quack has only had me hospitalized for depression twice. 

Hugo Strange: That is because the first listed depressive episode was an attempted suicide at the age of 17, which would have been before you ever went to prison. 

The Top: Oh. Yes, that did...that did happen, Doctor Hugo Strange. It was how I learned that taking a dozen different types of pills is not the most efficient way in which to kill oneself. 

Hugo Strange: (Alarmed, but making an effort to remain calm) You aren’t planning to make another attempt, are you? The Top: No, no. I have far too much to live for-and besides, my fianceé would never forgive me if I killed myself, Doctor Hugo Strange. 

Hugo Strange: Your fianceé?

The Top: Yes. Her name is Lisa Snart, although you, Doctor Hugo Strange, are likely more familiar with her nom de guerre: the Golden Glider. 

Hugo Strange: So, another one of the Rogues? 

The Top: Yes. I met her while posing as an ice skating coach, and we have been deeply in love ever since, Doctor Hugo Strange. 

Hugo Strange: I see. How long have the two of you been romantically linked? 

The Top: About seven years now, Doctor Hugo Strange. 

Hugo Strange: In other words, the relationship began shortly after your second attempted suicide? 

The Top: I admit I was in a rather dark place at that point in my life, Doctor Hugo Strange. My beloved was responsible for helping to pull me out of it. 

Hugo Strange: (Concerned) And what would happen if she died, or broke off your relationship? 

The Top: That will not happen, Doctor Hugo Strange. 

Hugo Strange: But if it did? 

The Top: (Agitated) I… I don’t know. She...she’s the only person who ever really loved me, Doctor Hugo Strange. The only one. 

Hugo Strange: I’m concerned that you seem to be placing your mental stability and overall self-esteem so heavily on one relationship, Mr. Dillon. That cannot be healthy, for either one of you. (Pause) I know you don’t believe yourself to be mentally ill, but for Lisa’s sake, if nothing else, I really do think that it is urgent that we continue these sessions. 

The Top: I would never do anything to hurt Lisa, Doctor Hugo Strange. Never! 

Hugo Strange: In an earlier manic episode, you threatened to blow up half the world. That would have included your beloved Lisa, would it not? 

The Top: I had not yet met Lisa when I came up with that scheme. If I had known her, I never would have endangered her in such a way, Doctor Hugo Strange.

Hugo Strange: Maybe so, but that incident serves to prove that your judgement is compromised when you are in the midst of a manic episode. While I believe that you would never intentionally hurt Lisa, should you have another manic episode, you might cause harm to her without realizing it. 

The Top: I...I suppose you may have a point, Doctor Hugo Strange. I will take your suggestion into consideration. I certainly do not wish to accidentally harm Lisa. 

Hugo Strange: I’m glad to hear that, Mr. Dillon. (Pause) You are a metahuman, correct? 

The Top: Do you think I am wearing this collar because it is fashionable, Doctor Hugo Strange? 

Hugo Strange: A metahuman power dampener. Well, I suppose that answers that question. What powers do you possess, Mr. Dillon? 

The Top: I have the ability to spin at superhuman speeds, I am telekinetic, and I have a limited degree of telepathy, Doctor Hugo Strange. I cannot read or outright control minds, but I can induce vertigo and push people into doing things that they otherwise might not be inclined to do. 

Hugo Strange: I see. So, Mr. Dillon, what prompted you to put on a costume, call yourself the Top, and use your intellect and your not inconsiderable array of powers to commit crimes? 

The Top: My father always told me that I needed to be a success; get on top of the world. I had to prove that I wasn’t the failure that everyone thought I was...and I did. No one laughs at Roscoe Dillon anymore, Doctor Hugo Strange.

Hugo Strange: Yes, yes...but why do it in a silly costume and with gimmicked tops? 

The Top: I thought we already went over this. It’s because I like tops. They are fascinating. (Pause) Do you want to hear about my collection, Doctor Hugo Strange? There’s so much you could learn from it. 

Hugo Strange: Perhaps some other time, Mr. Dillon. (Pause) And the Flash had nothing to do with your decision to put on the costume? 

The Top: The Flash? You insult me, Doctor Hugo Strange. Why would I ever be inspired to do anything by someone like him? 

Hugo Strange: Isn’t he your enemy? 

The Top: Only because he constantly stands in the way of my achieving greatness. If he left me alone, I would not fight him….but as it is, he’s made things rather personal. 

Hugo Strange: So the reason you have continued to commit crimes is in order to get revenge on the Flash? 

The Top: Really, Doctor Hugo Strange, you must get your hearing problems checked out. I do not commit crimes to get revenge on the Flash. I commit crimes to make myself wealthy and to get revenge on the world. It rejected me; branded me as a freak. I simply rejected it in turn. 

Hugo Strange: And has your life of crime made you happy, Mr. Dillon? 

The Top: Not yet...but I am afraid, Doctor Hugo Strange, that it does not matter whether being a criminal makes me happy or not. It’s the only life that will ever accept someone like me. I learned that lesson long ago. 

Hugo Strange: I stand by my initial assessment of you, Mr. Dillon. You need help. I just hope you will permit me to provide it. 

[quazartranslates]

Welcome to the Nightmare Game II - CH43

**This is an edited machine translation. For more information, please [click here]**

[<<< Previous Chapter | Table of Contents | Next Chapter >>>]

-----

Chapter 43: Star Death Reality Show (XXVI)

Just like watching a poor lamb trapped in a hunter's snare, wailing would not arouse the compassion of a seasoned hunter. On the contrary, the hunter would only be excited about the delicious food dying.

Looking at Qi Leren who had been struck by lightning, Su He said faintly, "I know many ways to avoid contracts, but it’s not easy to do. Most of the methods are one-off skills or items, or there is an extremely long cooldown time. Even if you don't have one… It’s best to be careful."

Qi Leren gawked at Su He, as if he had been drained of all his strength. He didn't say a word for a long time, and his lowered head did not show anger. Only his eyelashes were shaking, as if he was almost unable to bear such a failure, and he was crying.

This long silence was not ridiculous, but sad.

It was like watching a gambler at the end of his rope, piling up all the chips on the gambling table and then losing everything.

Everything that followed seemed to be a mechanical repetition. Qi Leren once again signed his name on the parchment with no facial expression, and the signed letters were distorted by his shaking. At the moment when he put down his pen, his spine seemed to be knocked out section by section, slumping on his chair and silently watching the sunrise.

A rising sun that would never rise.

"Can I leave now?" Qi Leren asked softly, looking deeply tired.

"Anytime, but I suggest you stay a little longer or even get some sleep. Anyway, I have adjusted the time flow rate in this area for you, so you won’t be delayed too long." Su He, like a considerate friend who fully thought of him, gave him friendly advice.

But Qi Leren didn't want to stay any longer. He was willing to face the monster in the institute, and didn't want to face Su He. So he stood up, and the chair rudely dragged a harsh sound across the ground.

"I'm leaving," Qi Leren said stubbornly, his tone carrying the anger of being deceived.

"If you insist, go ahead." Su He wasn’t reluctant, anyway. His purpose had been achieved.

The Witch of Lust looked at Qi Leren curiously, because his attitude was disrespectful. As a native devil accustomed to the hierarchical atmosphere of the underworld, she didn't quite understand the relationships between human beings. Sometimes a worm could say "no" to an elephant, which was really interesting in her eyes.

To be fair, Su He was not a strict leader. If the object of comparison was the Devil of Power who had a strong desire to control, then he was an easygoing boss. If you wanted to compare him with the Devil of Slaughter, then he was a perfect boss—at least he wouldn't go crazy and dare to kill anyone, leaving him in his current state of lying half-dead under lava. The Devil of Fraud was quite tolerant of his subordinates, sometimes even almost deliberately indulgent towards them. He seldom pointed out your mistakes, but every time you made a mistake, he would remember it, but he would not show it. This attitude made people feel that he didn't care about them. This slightly malicious indulgence contributed to the weakness and self-deception in human nature, and he watched and waited with great interest until you finally crossed the boundaries he set for you...

Then you would find that you had lost everything. Even if you knelt at his feet and kissed the tips of his shoes and begged him to give you another chance, he wouldn't look at you again.

This extreme gentleness and extreme coldness combined to form a contradictory and complicated person. The witches favored him and feared him. Even the Witch of Lust, who was famous for her debauchery, was much more disciplined in front of him. At least when she appeared in front of Su He, she would pick clothes from her closet that didn’t show her off. When Su He told her to dress properly to entertain guests, she would always find a dress that wrapped her from head to foot. However, in order to express her dissatisfaction, she didn't mind expressing her protest in a small way by means of excessive obedience. Her boss didn't care about this level of protest.

He was really unpredictable sometimes.

She had thought that trying to deceive the Devil of Fraud would make people lose his favor and even irritate him, but Su He's reaction was just the opposite. It seemed that he had added ten points in his heart to this audacious human being.

The Witch of Lust yawned a little and watched the poor man hesitate by the chair. She looked at Su He's face and asked politely, "Shall I take you out, baby?"

"Thank you," Qi Leren, who was worried about how to leave, said quickly.

Su He’s left hand on the armrest of the chair supported his cheek. He asked without warning, "Who gave you the necklace around your neck?"

Qi Leren's cold sweat came back again. In these past few minutes in the field, he had experienced great ups and downs, and his nerves were over-stressed. He had become a frightened bird. He was just glad that he had successfully crossed the border, and he was ready to keep this state and leave quickly. Who knew that Su He would come out with something else?

Fortunately, Su He hadn't found it.

He hadn't found that when he signed his name for the first time, he hadn't used any skill cards at all.

No, he hadn't.

He had made a wonderful deduction—he had successfully deceived Su He once, using an item of unknown origin as the laptop. So this time, under almost the same precondition, would Su He still fall for it? Would he believe that he had honestly signed the contract and was ready to fulfill it? He was not an obedient man in Su He’s eyes.

The best way to dispel Su He's doubts was to make him feel that he had seen through him, expose him personally, watch him suffer, despair, and collapse, and then watch him give in.

So he had had a bold plan, and he had decided to take a gamble. Then he had succeeded.

He was so ecstatic that he had to lower his head to hide his inner secret and fanatical joy and let that passion explode as fireworks in his heart.

However, he also had to consider that this decision would bring him great risks in the future—when he was really raised to a half-field, how should he explain it to Su He?

This concern slightly diluted the excited mood, and even the last resort was shattered by Su He’s sudden question, which made Qi Leren tremble with fear.

"This aura... It’s the Prophet’s?" Su He asked, raising his eyebrows.

Qi Leren did not say yes, nor did he say no. He asked, "Do you know the Prophet?"　　

As if they could never talk well, Su He also threw out a rhetorical question: "Don't you think that the Village of Dawn is too similar to the Village of Dusk?"

Qi Leren was stupefied. So, it turned out that this field was not a "field that imitates the scenery of the Village of Dawn" as Su He had once said, but was the real Village of Dawn.

But if the Village of Dawn was a field, then the Village of Dusk...

Qi Leren suddenly understood. The Prophet who slept beneath the Courthouse and spent most of his time in the cold ice pool, it turned out that he had been silently supporting the Village of Dawn that sheltered mankind. As a player, he did not know how to escape the sanctions of time. He had even spent more than 20 years completing compulsory tasks, and had survived to this day.

"A naive idealist inherited Maria's will, created a box of time with the belief of protecting, and fixed the newly established refuge under dusk forever. His original force was 'time'. Originally, he was the one most likely to evade mission sanctions, if he had not lost to the box." Su He's expression was full of compassion and tenderness.

The Prophet’s original force? Qi Leren seemed to understand. He knew that some of the higher demons had original forces, such as jealousy, lust, despair... They were getting stronger and stronger while approaching the original force. At the level of the three Devil Kings, they had almost merged with the original force.

But did the Prophet, a field-level human being, also have his own original force?

His force, was it time?

Qi Leren's heart was full of curiosity and doubt, but Su He had no intention to solve his doubts: "Go, don't challenge your limits with your life, you’ll never know what kind of miracle you will create. Although 99.9% of people end up dead through this process, I sincerely hope that you are the exception, because I have some expectations for you.

"Qi Leren, today's adventure is only the first step. I am waiting for the day when you complete the transformation," Su He said.

The beautiful Village of Dawn began to become blurred, and even Su He's voice gradually drifted away, as if separated by a dream.

When Qi Leren came to his senses, he still stood in the corridor on the lowest level of the institute, and only a few seconds had passed.

It was the fourth day of the game... No, the zero hour had passed, and it was the fifth day. He didn't know if the army’s ship could arrive. He had reason to suspect that it wouldn't come too quickly. After all, the rescue was always late after all the problems were solved.

Su He said that he had released the octopus in the underground glacier, which was definitely more difficult than the ones he had encountered before. He needed to upgrade his equipment, such as finding a rocket launcher like what Mark had used against him.

This was in the institute’s armoury, but Qi Leren hadn’t taken it since he hadn’t expected to use it. He decided to double back and look for it. In addition, we should find a NPC that was still alive, and take them to the instrument that could detect whether they had become a host, and he hoped to meet Dr. Lu and Du Yue along the way...

Qi Leren returned to the stairs and began to go up. When he passed the power room, he went in again, restarted the power supply, and restored power to the whole underground research institute.

With the light, he was feeling much better. Qi Leren finally recovered from the frightening meeting just now, stopped thinking about Su He, and absorbed himself in preparing for the next challenge. According to game logic, there must be a restock of supplies before the war. Unfortunately, the copy world did not necessarily come according to game logic, so he had to rely on himself. He didn't want to rush unprepared into that horrible boss battle.

Suddenly there was a noise in the corner of the power distribution room. Qi Leren suddenly looked towards it and raised the gun in his hand, shouting, "Who?"

"...It's me." He Yi stood up. His condition looked worse than before. He was emaciated and almost withered. "Mark came in, I met him!"

Qi Leren was taken aback and realized that what he said was in reference to when Qi Leren had wanted to leave the institute through the laser corridor before, but He Yi, who had made an agreement with him to cut off the power supply, did not cut off the power in time—because at that time, Mark had moved the debris in Annie's basement and had entered the institute to attack He Yi.

"I’ve taken care of him, and Annie, Xue Jiahui, and Francis; all four of them were parasitized," Qi Leren said calmly.

He Yi looked at him in astonishment: "How did you do it?"

If it weren't for the enemy at present, Qi Leren would still use the rhetoric of "an apostle of God" to fool him. Unfortunately, now that his Prophet's Heart skill was cooling down, he didn't need to continue acting. He simply said: "It's a long story. Let's talk about it when we have time. Right now we’re in danger..."

"I know." He Yi leaned wearily against the wall and smiled bitterly. "It’s come out."

"What?" Qi Leren became nervous.

"That monster..." He Yi looked desperately at the ceiling above his head, as if he were an outlaw being chased by troops behind the cliff ahead, and murmured in a low voice, "We can't escape."

"Do you... Do you know something?" Qi Leren finally asked the question that lingered in his mind.

For a long time, He Yi's attitude had been a bit strange. Qi Leren hadn't thought much at first, but with the discovery of the plot, he had to face up to this problem—He Yi, he was an insider.

"Why is there an amphioctopus here? Why did I happen to find a basement when I was kidnapped by Mark? Why am I able to blow up the access to the research institute accurately but I am safe and sound? Why can this institute’s power supply, which has been off for many years, still be used? Why do I know where there are weapons and how to use the equipment? Have you thought about these questions?" He Yi asked, one question after another.

-----

Editor’s Notes: To clarify, the “forces” mentioned in this chapter are along the line of forces of nature but on a more human scale, ie. the “forces” the witches and demons have as their titles. A closer translation would have been to use “power”, but I wanted to make sure it was distinct since “power” is already used in several other contexts in this novel.

-----

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[melanielocke]

A surprise baby - part 2

After spending the night with Augustus Pounceby and being humiliated when he proposes to someone else, Eugenia Lightwood finds herself pregnant outside of wedlock. She doesn’t want to lose her child, but doesn’t know how to keep her situation hidden anymore, nor does she have any intention of marrying Augustus, or any man at that. Instead, she’s fallen in love with Kamala Joshi.

CW: Pregnancy

AO3

Part 1

Taglist: @foxglove-airmid @justanormaldemon @styxdrawings @ipromiseiwillwrite @alastair-esfandiyar-carstairs1

‘I hope you don’t like Charles too much,’ Kamala said. ‘As Alastair and I are having our weekly Charles Fairchild is an ass meeting and you’ve been invited to join.’

Eugenia would have considered Charles a friend once, but that was a long time ago. She’d thought once, that he was a more mature and sensible than his younger brother and had hoped he could talk some sense into the Merry Thieves. They certainly didn’t listen to her, and were the most reckless fools she’d ever encountered in her life.

But that was before Charles had abandoned Kamala in such a terrible way though. Who left their fiancée when they were sick? Kamala, it turned out, was glad to have dodged that bullet in the end. Eugenia guessed she felt the same way about Augustus now. She knew Kamala preferred women, and Eugenia began to suspect that she might not have a preference at all, and was in love with Kamala now.

It had been a few weeks since telling her parents and Thomas about her pregnancy. It had been decided Eugenia would have to travel for some time, but she wasn’t yet sure where and with who. With everything going on, Thomas preferred to stay in London with his friends.

‘Would it be possible to add Augustus Pounceby?’ Eugenia asked. ‘I mean, make it a weekly Charles Fairchild and Augustus Pounceby are both an ass meeting.’

‘Augustus Pounceby ís an ass,’ Alastair agreed. ‘He and I went to school together. He was the worst.’

Eugenia knew that at some point during his school years, Alastair had been awful as well. But since befriending him recently, he’d explained some of it and Eugenia could sympathize. The image of schoolboy Thomas trailing behind him was hilarious, especially now that she knew Thomas was deeply in love with Alastair. But it was also because Thomas had always noticed something was not right with Alastair, that he was hurting. Her little brother had always been awfully sensitive to other people’s moods, Eugenia couldn’t keep a thing from him. From Thomas’ stories, Alastair had grown and changed a lot since their school days, and Eugenia was glad for it because now she had two amazing friends she could hate on Augustus with.

She didn’t think anyone had ever treated Augustus badly, he simply believed he was better than everyone else and therefore deserved more. Even when Eugenia had been close to him, he’d always acted very entitled.

‘He is awful,’ Kamala agreed. ‘And racist. I agree we can hate on Augustus as well as Charles here. Who wants to share their feelings first?’

The afternoon was fun, and Eugenia felt welcomed into the group. Alastair and Kamala had been friends for a little longer, although that had taken a lot of effort on Kamala’s part. The problem was, a man and a woman spending time together was suspicious, and therefore there always had to be a third party present. At first that had been Grace, but she mostly seemed bored, and now her engagement with Charles was broken and Grace was gone… somewhere. Kamala was still looking into the whole thing as she had not given up on Grace, but Eugenia had no clue what had happened. Kamala and Alastair were glad to have Eugenia’s company, because even if the Bridgestocks did not approve of Alastair, at least they could be sure no one was ruining their daughter.

Alastair at some point decided to make fun of Charles’ posh accent, and Eugenia had to admit his imitation was on point.

‘I am thinking of traveling to India,’ Kamala said. ‘My parents… I know they love me, but they took me away from everything I know and pretend I was born here. I remember so little from India, I barely speak the language anymore. But I had a past there. And I’ve been trying to replicate the food my mom used to cook for me, but I never quite got it right.’

Eugenia had no idea what it was like, to be so disconnected from her culture and her homeland. Alastair knew a bit better. He still had his mother, but he hadn’t been in Persia for a long time and was estranged from his family. Eugenia suspected it was part of why Kamala and Alastair were so taken with each other, they both knew what it was like to live in England as someone who wasn’t white and who was disconnected from their homeland.

‘I’ll help you if you want to make another attempt at replicating your mother’s cooking,’ Alastair offered.

In the end when it was nearing dinner time, the three of them did go into the kitchen. Alastair apparently had learnt how to cook from their cook, Risa and mostly knew how to cook Persian food. Kamala knew a little about cooking, but mostly tried to go by smells she remembered from her childhood and vegetables she remembered had been in there.

Eugenia decided it was best for everyone involved if she sat back and watched. Tommy was the cook in the family. And her mother, of course, who had been a servant once. Eugenia, on the other hand, had been forbidden from entering the kitchen at home, and only helped with cutting up the vegetables here and there. Even she couldn’t mess that up, and if she ended up cutting herself, healing runes could be applied.

Bridget, the institute’s cook, was not too happy about them using the kitchen as a pastime, and released some very unsavory Irish curse words about the mess they were sure to make. Eugenia recognized the words, her mother was Irish too and she’d learnt the language, even if she had always struggled with learning languages. She responded in Irish, explaining what they were doing here as best as she could. For good measure she promised she would clean up.

‘I didn’t realize you spoke Irish,’ Kamala said.

‘I’m not great at languages, but I learnt Irish and Spanish from a young age,’ Eugenia said. ‘My mother is Irish and my father loves speaking Spanish at home. Tommy is better at languages though, he also speaks Welsh and Persian.’

Alastair stared at her, his eyes wide. ‘Thomas speaks Persian?’

‘He’s been studying Persian with Lucie,’ Eugenia said. ‘Lucie wanted to learn because she thought she should be able to speak her parabatai’s mother tongue. Thomas helped her because he’s so good with languages.’

Eugenia suspected his feelings for Alastair also played a role in his determination to learn the language. It was sweet, to learn someone’s language for them.

‘Charles never cared much about my language,’ Alastair said. ‘Nor what I said when I spoke it. I understand not everyone could learn, it’s not easy for an English speaker. But Thomas, he really speaks it?’

Eugenia imagined that had to be hurtful. She would love to learn Kamala’s language for her, even if she would never get any good at it. Still, it was the effort that counted, right? At least she hoped so.

‘He does read Persian poetry, so I imagine he grasps it. Don’t pin me down on it though, I don’t know how good he is. But he excels at languages and has been studying for several years now. He also helped James with learning for Cordelia. I was under the impression he speaks it quite well, doesn’t he?’

Alastair snorted. ‘I think he understand enough, but honestly his accent is embarrassing.’

Soon enough, the kitchen began to smell delicious. Kamala admitted what she’d made wasn’t quite what she remembered from home, but it was a better attempt than the last. Eugenia had had all sorts of cravings lately, not to mention a sensitivity to smells. She could barely stomach meat anymore, but she craved sweets at the most opportune moments.

Kamala and Alastair had made a vegetable dish with some rice and lots of spices, and the smell had to be the most amazing thing she’d smelt in a while. English food tended to be rather bland, favoring the flavor of meat and gravy which Eugenia currently couldn’t stomach. This was much better, and once they could eat, she made sure everything was finished even if Kamala and Alastair had cooked way too much for three.

‘Do they not feed you at home?’ Alastair asked when she finished her third plate. ‘Is it because Thomas eats everything? He must have gotten so ridiculously tall somehow.’

Eugenia snorted. Thomas was like a bottomless pit when it came to food, she suspected he was always hungry.

‘This is very good food,’ Eugenia said. ‘And I was very hungry.’ She contemplated what to say next for moment. Telling people about a pregnancy was a huge risk, but Alastair and Kamala were her friends. Apart from her parents and Thomas, they were the people she trusted more than anything. ‘I’m also eating for two people.’

Alright, at the moment she was eating for three people, but she blamed that on pregnancy cravings.

Alastair stared at her in confusion, Kamala in shock, her hand over her mouth.

‘You’re having a baby?’ Kamala whispered.

‘You can’t tell anyone,’ Eugenia said. ‘My parents and Tommy know, and now you, but beyond that no one can know. We’re still figuring out what to do. But as my closest friends, I thought you should know too. I don’t think I’d be able to hide it for much longer anyway.’

‘You could come to India with me,’ Kamala said. ‘I can hardly travel as a woman alone, and Alastair cannot leave his mother while she is about to give birth. We could return when you are about to give birth, make sure no one sees you until the baby is born, and the pretend we found the baby and don’t know whose it is except that they’re shadowhunters.’

Eugenia had to admit that plan was sound. She didn’t know anyone in India, no one who could spread the word she’d gotten pregnant out of wedlock. She could pretend she had a husband somewhere, but was traveling with her dear friend Kamala who wanted to reconnect with her home country.

‘Will your parents approve?’ Eugenia asked.

Kamala waved with her hand. ‘Oh, probably not. They do not approve of people calling me Kamala rather than Ariadne, or me spending time with Alastair, who they think is very improper company.’

Alastair shrugged. ‘They aren’t wrong.’

‘But I’m done seeking their approval,’ Kamala added. ‘I’m thinking of moving out. When I agreed to marry Charles, I had no one to fall back on, no support, only the very conditional love of my parents. But now that’s changed. Living as a woman alone would be unproper. But if you were to join me, dear Eugenia…. No one would question a thing.’

Would Kamala feel for her, as Eugenia did for her? She knew Kamala had recently broken things off with Anna, perhaps it was too soon. Eugenia loved her cousin, of course, but found it hard to accept that she treated her lovers as Augustus had treated Eugenia.

‘Would you help me care for the baby?’ Eugenia asked.

She knew reputation wise it was probably best to let someone adopt her child, but she didn’t want to. Eugenia did want to be a mother, and she didn’t want to wait around for another man who was only going to treat her badly.

‘Of course!’ Kamala exclaimed. ‘I’ve always wanted to be a mother, but after Charles I thought it wouldn’t happen. And I’ve had plenty of practice with little Alexander, I know how to take care of a child. And of course, Alastair will have plenty of experience soon enough.’

‘I’ll help you wherever I can,’ Alastair said. ‘And after several months of shopping for baby things with Cordelia, I know the best stores. Do you have any ideas for baby names?’

Eugenia had to admit she hadn’t thought about that yet. ‘If it’s a girl, her middle name will be Barbara,’ she said. ‘Beyond that, I have no clue. But we have at least four more months to figure it out.’

Alastair looked amused. ‘That is sweet. I am sorry about your sister.’

‘She would have loved the baby, I’m sure of it,’ Eugenia said.

‘Cordelia and I have been arguing about baby names ever since she found out mâmân was expecting.’

‘What did you come up with?’ Eugenia asked.

‘Rostam if it’s a boy. Shadi if it’s a girl. We both agreed the baby should have a Persian name, and with Father gone he won’t be able to object.’

‘Those are both lovely names,’ Kamala said.

‘I’m sorry about your father,’ Eugenia added. She didn’t think she’d offered him condolences yet. The funeral was days away now.

‘Don’t be,’ Alastair said. ‘He was… not a good father.’

She remembered Elias’ outburst at Cordelia’s wedding, how Alastair and James had dragged him off. Uncle Will and uncle Gabriel had attempted to distract people, but how much did that do, when everyone still left Sona and Alastair with him? She regretted not befriending Alastair sooner. She hadn’t known him all that well, honestly, not until he’d come to the sanctuary that day when Thomas had been arrested and she found out he’d been keeping her brother safe in secret.

‘Would you like to come take tea with me this week?’ Eugenia asked. ‘Both of you.’

Alastair hesitated. ‘With your parents? And your brother?’

Eugenia waved her hand impatiently. ‘Oh they’ll adore you. And they already know about those rumors, they’re not upset about stupid things you did when you were fifteen.’

Alastair didn’t say anything, and Eugenia wondered if he believed her. ‘I’m serious. My parents are very kind and forgiving. And they’re grateful you kept Tommy safe.’

‘I’m not sure it would be good for me to be around Thomas,’ Alastair said.

‘Because you still have feelings for him?’ Kamala asked.

‘Unfortunately, yes,’ Alastair said. ‘It is my curse, apparently, to always want what I can’t have.’

Eugenia rolled her eyes. ‘Always so dramatic, Alastair. Just ask my brother to go out for dinner with you. Tommy is old enough to choose for himself what he wants.’

[dontmindmyshadowhunting]

The new Shadowhunter Academy (Fan Fic) - Chapter 1

In the mood for a bit of Shadowhunter Academy drama so there goes chap 1 of my new fic (it's part of my "To never being parted series" though it can be read as a standalone story).

Ao3 link here.

*****

This is how I die, Ash thought. He was surprised by how indifferent he was to the news. He had always imagined he would have more fighting in him.

If he were honest, it was not such a bad place to die. Green grass had started to grow again in the lands of Faerie, where there had only been wasteland and death before. Maybe it was for the best. Maybe Ash was exactly what he had been named after. Ash, the symbol of rebirth, his blood fertilizing the land and giving way to lush vegetation and the chirping of birds. Through his blurred vision, he could see Jace lying a few feet away, unconscious. He held on to the steady rise of his chest that told him he was still alive. But barely.

Ash coughed up blood in the already drenched soil. He tried to lift himself up, but the muscles in his arms were failing him and the slightest move equalled to excruciating pain. He felt as if all the bones in his body had been crushed into small pieces that were piercing through his organs.

He thought about the girl he had met in the weapons room, the girl in the drawing. Drusilla Blackthorn. There had been loneliness in her blue-green eyes, yet there had also been a fierce will to live despite everything. A hope beyond despair. You and I are the same, he told her in his mind. We witness the worst horrors, suffer the most intense grief, but keep our chins up and stand ready to fight to live another day. We do not give up.

Ash craned his neck sluggishly to get a better look at his opponent.

The new King of both Seelie and Unseelie Courts, a Herondale no less, who looked more like a Californian surfer boy with his tousled blond hair and unforgiving bright blue eyes, was standing before him, hands curled into fists against his hips, his white wings tipped with gold rustling behind him. He was glorious, an angel of death, and Ash idly wondered how someone so beautiful could be so cruel.

“Stand. Now. There is no fun in striking someone lying on the ground,” the King said, his blue eyes rolling in a very unkingly manner. Even his voice was not that of a monster. It was a nice, clear voice, that sounded like it belonged to a sweet boy. Ash knew, though, that he was anything but. He needed to distract him, to play for time.

“All these faeries that you have massacred,” Ash managed to utter through the blood in his throat. He flinched at the pain that the mere act of talking caused him. “And you call yourself their ruler… I don’t understand. Why this… bloodbath? What did they do to you?”

“What did they do to me? What did they do to me?” If the King’s face bore any expression at all, it would be pure hatred and contempt. “How about what did they do to my mother? And her parents, and their parents before that? Did they really think I would never find out, stay in the dark forever? Remain a blind and helpless mundane my whole life? I see them every single night in my dreams, you know… I am haunted by the cries and howls of my ancestors. Always running, always hiding, never allowed to rest, never allowed to live. No more. I crushed the faeries who stood in my way as if they were cockroaches under my shoe. If there was still such a thing as Shadowhunters, I would have them suffer the same fate, if not worse, for they have betrayed my bloodline just as much.”

As the Herondale King talked, Ash slowly moved his hand to clutch the folded paper inside the left pocket of his jacket. The psychopathic witch that had grown so fond of him – Annabel, the mere thought of her still sent shivers down his spine – had at least taught him one useful thing. How to get out of this hell hole.

He held on tight to the drawing in his bloody fingers. If he focused enough on creating an interdimensional Portal to her… Surely, he would go back to where he came from himself. The drawing had probably been made with material found in Thule, but the artist… the artist was from the other world. Maybe it could work. It was a long shot, but it was the only chance he and Jace had.

My blood, willingly given. He had lost enough blood as it was, but it had certainly not been willingly given. Trying to grab his sword, which was lying a few feet away, would draw too much attention. A deep paper cut could work. That’s how potent his blood was. He brought the paper to the palm of his hand and sliced through the skin, murmuring the incantation.

As the Portal started shimmering before him, Ash heaved a sigh of relief, causing a sting in his lungs. That was the first step. Now, how the hell would he find the strength to haul himself and Jace through it, without being stopped by the Faerie King?

“Wow, you will have to teach me how to do that,” the Herondale King said, showing for the first time a flicker of emotion. “I mean, I probably have enough power for that – Aren’t you like a cheap knockoff of me?”

Ash was spared to give an answer as the King whipped around at the sound of swords being drawn out behind him. The Riders of Mannan. There were only five of them left.

“You again?” The King rolled his eyes. “Ever thought of a retirement plan? Aren’t you like, thousands of years old?”

One of the Riders shrieked. “You killed two of our brothers. It has become personal. We will never acknowledge you as our new King. So that leaves us with only one option.”

“Yep, got it. You pick option B. Getting your decrepit asses kicked by me, myself and I.”

The Faerie King advanced with a casual stride on the five Riders, drawing two longswords that he immediately started twirling as if they were cheerleaders’ batons.

This was Ash’s chance.

He crawled to Jace, grabbing their two swords - Heosphorus and Phaesphorus - on his way. Pulling on a strength he didn’t know he still had, he finally managed to stand, ignoring the ache in his limbs – he had known torture and pain had become a familiar companion – and hauled Jace’s body up and they both stepped through the Portal, with only two swords and a folded bloodstained paper as their interdimensional trip’s luggage. He let himself be transported in between worlds, drained and already fainting from the strained effort.

When he came to, he was lying on a sand beach, the sun barely peeking out from the horizon, casting a reddish glow on the sea. He inhaled deeply the clean and salty air, like a treat to his lungs, so pure compared to the one in Thule. He turned his head to find Jace’s limp body a few feet away. If only he had been taught how to draw the Angel’s Runes his uncle had told him about. The ones that could heal the wounds and ease the pain.

He heard voices and started to drag Jace’s battered body behind a nearby rock, breathing heavily as he did. The fresh air and the sound of the soft push-pull of the ocean made him feel better already.

He peered around to see three figures approaching.

He instantly recognized the girl. Drusilla. She looked a little bit older than he remembered but she had the same thick and luscious dark brown hair and freckled milky skin. She was wearing her pyjamas, black fabric with a pattern of white skulls. She was laughing carelessly, throwing her head back, and it made Ash smile, his zygomatic muscles almost aching as they awakened from their deep slumber. They hadn’t been put to such use in a while. She was holding the hand of a younger boy with rumpled hair of the exact same colour. Their eyes shared the same singular summer-blue shade. Probably her little brother. He seemed to be around ten years old, but Ash wasn’t very good at guessing age.

The third person was a very tall boy, with hair as black as a crow’s feathers, walking along the water’s edge. Ash couldn’t see his face because he was looking away, toward the sea. There was something fragile, almost poetic, in the graceful curve of his neck and the delicate line of his jaw. Something hypnotising about the careful yet purposeful way he moved his long limbs. Ash almost felt disappointed he could not see the face of the person they belonged to.

“Tavvy!” Drusilla cried out as the younger boy released her hand to run to the edge of a tide pool.

He picked something in the water and held it up in triumph.

“Starfish,” he yelled, hopping up and down excitedly. “I have found a starfish!”

Tavvy ran, though not in the direction of his sister, but of the older dark-haired boy.

The tall boy held out his hand and the younger one put the starfish gingerly into the other’s palm.

“Pisaster ochraceus, also known as the purple or ochre sea star,” the mysterious boy said, after a single, swift glance at the starfish. He had a deep, raspy voice.

“It’s beautiful! Please! Please! Can I dry it and keep it in my bedroom at the Institute? I could have it framed, and maybe even painted by Jules!”

“It’s a keystone species that controls mussel populations. It was nearly wiped out by the sea star wasting syndrome. In other words… Waste of a perfectly good starfish,” the voice of the graceful boy caught at his last words and he trailed off, his head still turned toward the sea, almost as if he was no longer talking to Tavvy. He lifted his free hand absently to grasp a shiny object - a silver pendant? - resting on his chest.

The three Shadowhunters snapped their heads in the opposite direction from where Ash was hiding, when a fourth person called. A blond-haired girl – probably a Shadowhunter as well, though she had pointy ears - was coming down the beach wearing slippers, an apron tied around her slender body.

“Breakfast is ready! I have managed not to burn the whole stack of pancakes this time.”

Ash heard his stomach growl. How long had it been since he had last eaten? Probably days. But much sharper than the pain caused by hunger or even by the battle wounds, he felt longing… Longing for a normal life, in a normal happy family. What would he not give for carefree strolls on the beach in the dawn, surrounded by loved ones, followed by something as simple as a breakfast of – even burnt he didn’t mind – pancakes?

The landscape swirled and changed into the dark, dirty and moisty walls of a cell. He was so thirsty, so hungry, and so cold. Two Unseelie guards were staring at him through the bars, with a smirk on their narrow faces.

“We are here to bring you to your bedroom. Yes, you will get a bedroom. How fancy is that? The King just wanted to make sure you knew it was in your best interest to fully cooperate. From now on, and for as long as you behave, you will benefit from the most luxurious accommodation befitting to your royal lineage.” Ash – the younger, clueless version of him – found he did not care for a fancy room. He had known the most decadent living conditions and the worst. Knowing the full spectrum, he had realized nothing really mattered but a place to call home. Mom, where are you when I need you the most?

The door rattled and one of the guards came in.

“You have a pretty face, skinny boy,” he said, as he opened Ash’s bloody shackles. “When we will have cleaned you up, maybe you and I could have a little fun.”

Ash spat on the rude intruder.

The faerie was about to slap him when the other guard grabbed his wrist.

“Careful… He is the Seelie Queen’s son. You can’t take liberties with him as you can with other regular prisoners.”

“He may be of royal blood, but his father Sebastian Morgenstern died leaving us alone to bear the consequences of his mad plans, to suffer the Cold Peace. The traitor is the reason why the Fair Folk are treated as if they are less than nothing.”

A wave of pure hatred – that he had not felt at the time, having never met his father – woke Ash up from his dreams, his whole body drenched in sweat. He almost sighed in relief as he realized he was in his wide bedroom, in the house in the hollow hill.

There was a pain in his stomach, different from the one caused by hunger. He immediately ran to his bathroom and retched above the sink. There had been no time to run to the toilet. He opened the tap and splashed water over his face. As he stared at himself in the mirror, he noticed there were dark circles under his eyes and that his features, although smooth and ageless as all faeries’ were, bore the permanent mark of having seen too much horror, suffered too much pain, loneliness, and sorrow before he had even reached adulthood. He swiftly schooled them into the mask he wore in public. He had become good at that.

****

“Riders of Mannan, tremble!” Mina cried out as she burst into the kitchen and started running around the table on her little legs, brandishing her Cortana baby-sized wooden replica. Her dark hair was now long enough that she could wear them in two tiny braids. It was Kit’s job, and Mina loved to barge into his room at ungodly hours with a hairbrush to jump up and down on his bed until he had performed his daily task. So much for privacy.

“Oh no, here comes Emma Carstairs!” Kit raised an empty pan from the stove to use it as a shield. “Quick, run! Or she will end us all!”

“Nooooo, Kit-Kat” Mina paused to strike a dramatic pose and rolled her eyes. “You are not a Rider.”

“No? What am I today?” He asked, putting down the pan.

“My fiancéééé!”

“Ooooh.” Kit drew himself to his full height, putting on a very serious don’t-mess-with-mine-and-I-won’t-mess-with-you face and brushed his hand through his hair in a mock nervous gesture. “Beware Riders, I will strike you with my wits, if not my crossbow.”

“No. Not Julian. I have changed my mind. I want to marry Tiberius Blackthorn!” She said and shook both her hands in front of her the way she always did when she was very excited about something.

“Oh. Oh. Well don’t tell Julian that, I am not sure he will appreciate the swap.”

“Do Tiberius! Do Tiberius!” Mina exclaimed, hopping up and down. Kit knelt in front of her and rested his hands on her shoulders to calm her down. “Do him, please!” Mina whined.

“Sure, Min. I will imitate Tiberius but please stop shouting that,” Kit said, feeling heat rush up his entire face.

“Yeaaay! Do him!”

“SHHHHhhh,” Kit said, putting a finger on her pouty lips. “Understood, Min-Min. I will play Ty’s part.”

Their parents were in the room next door and though both knew that he and Ty were a thing now, Kit had obviously not gone into detail as to the physical part of their relationship. He expected that they would simply guess and leave it at that.

He had a vivid memory of the time he had been cornered to sit through the “sex talk.” Tessa and Jem had made some Earl Grey tea and scones for the occasion and had taken the opportunity during one of Mina’s naps, to go through the whole process of explaining to Kit that it was the most natural thing in the world and that he shouldn’t feel uncomfortable raising any questions he had on the subject. Kit had dutifully listened, his head bent and his ears red, slouched in the middle of the couch, fingers knotting and unknotting where they rested on his lap. As the awkward conversation had gone on and on, he had disappeared little by little into the plump cushions, wishing he could vanish entirely inside the furniture.

Jem had been the old-fashioned gentleman, talking about “mutual respect” and “the shared responsibility of contraception and adequate protection”, but had been clearly as red faced as Kit, while Tessa had been the modern mom, freely and animatedly speaking about “exploring one’s sexuality” and “ignoring peer pressure and imaginary standards”.

When Jem had started listing all the STDs he had encountered in his life as a Silent Brother, Kit had secretly hoped there was poison in the tea. Dropping dead in the middle of the living room would have made for an adequate diversion. Fortunately, Tessa had silenced Jem with a glare.

In the back of his mind, Kit had wondered if Ty had gone through the same ordeal. He had imagined scary-overprotective Julian discussing sexual intercourse and condoms and had suddenly been profoundly relieved that – where Kit was concerned – the task had befallen to Tessa and Jem.

Kit had to admit, they employed the same thoroughness and dedication in everything they taught him. With Jem, Kit had learnt how to fight, how to heal wounds, how to waltz and – though that part still required a lot of training to get over his bad habits – how to behave like a gentleman. Tessa had taught Kit how to drive, how to cook and how to uncover and harness his First Heir powers. Both his parents had given him history lessons and they were the reason why he now knew how to speak five languages. He had read more books since he had joined their home than throughout the rest of his previous life. While Johnny Rook had taught Kit how to pick locks and steal pockets, Tessa and Jem had taught him trust and boundless generosity.

Truth be told, they were the best parents he could ever have dreamt of. He had the best family he could ever dream of, he thought, watching Mina’s big dark eyes widening as her gaze caught the plate of homemade chocolate cookies.

“Oooh you baked cookies! Can I have one Kit-Kat? Pleeeeeease?” Thank God for her short attention span.

“You already had a croissant this morning, Mina. You can have a cookie tomorrow. Remember, us Shadowhunters must eat healthily.”

Mina raised her eyebrow at him, in a way that reminded him of his boyfriend. Kit slipped a cookie in her tiny fingers.

“One. And remember how generous I was when I am sent away to sugar-addicts rehab and I beg you for one last shot of candy for the road.”

Mina nodded. He loved the way she always acted as if she understood his ramblings.

“Kit?” Tessa called as she entered the kitchen, waving her phone. “It’s Jace. He tells me you’ve been dodging his calls.”

“I am not here,” Kit mouthed.

“He told me you would say that. So, he wants you to know he still has this picture of you from last Christmas and he will not hesitate to send it to a certain dark-haired Centurion if you don’t take the call.”

Kit shot out his hand, palm up, and Tessa handed over her phone.

“This is blackmail.” Kit tucked the phone between his ear and shoulder as he swept the plate of cookies away from sight.

“Never said I was above blackmail. Just make sure it’ll work if you are ever to use it.”

“Is it another one of your cardinal rules and guidelines to being a proper Herondale? I am pretty sure half of them are made up.”

“They’re not.”

“They are,” Tessa mouthed, grimacing, as she whisked Mina away from the kitchen.

“So, here’s the thing. I usually act as a guest lecturer at the Academy, you know, for basic stuff. Learning how to jump and fall properly, balance in swordfight, choice of weapon… I was scheduled for next week, but Clary decided to plan her art gallery opening at the same time. So, I was looking for the best person to fill my shoes and of course immediately thought… who else than Kit?”

“Liar. I know you asked Emma first. What’s her excuse?”

“She sprained her ankle during training two days ago.”

“She posted a video of herself dancing in a nightclub with Cristina and Mark. That was yesterday.”

“This girl sure knows how to put on a brave face.”

“She was doing backflips in front of a cheering crowd.”

“Like I said, brave face. So, you’re in?”

“Do I really have a choice?”

“Not really, but I thought it would be nicer if I asked.”

“Whatever.” Kit grumbled.

“Great. You won’t regret it. I will even buy you dinner in Manhattan while you’re in New York. Fancy restaurant with amazing desserts.”

“Are you trying to seduce me, Jace Herondale?”

“Just lie down and let me do the rest.”

“WHAT?”

“Sorry, not talking to you. I’m in the middle of a training session. We’re stretching. Have you trained this morning?”

“It’s 2 PM here, Jace. I’m on my break. I already trained for six hours, starting at the crack of dawn.”

“You put us all to shame.”

“So, I guess I’ll leave you to it.”

“I was not finished.”

“Raziel, what else is there?”

“The Scholomance is sending a Centurion to represent them and provide a two-days training course for the Academy’s senior students who wish to apply to join them after they graduate.”

“Oh,” Kit said, with a familiar flutter around his stomach. “Do you…” He swallowed. “Do they already know who they will send?”

“Probably that Joshi guy. But it’s not set in stone. Jia Penhallow told me they have been trying to convince their best Centurion to go for months now, but he keeps saying no.”

“Oh, so he gets to say no.”

“I told her Herondales can’t resist a challenge...”

“You didn’t.”

“… and that I had a secret weapon to convince him to go this time.”

“You mean me.”

“Use your body!”

“WHAT?”

“Not talking to you, sorry. Beatriz, use your whole body’s strength, not just the muscles in your arms!”

“Thank the Angel.”

“What was I saying?”

“You were using me to try to convince Tiberius Blackthorn – who absolutely loathes talking in public, by the way – to give a two-days training course at the Academy for Scholomance applicants. Jace, I don’t know how I feel about this. I don’t want him to feel obligated in any way, just because…”

“… just because you let him play with your sword?” Jace offered.

“God, Jace. I am going to pretend you never said that.”

“Make us proud.”

“I hate you.”

“Love you, too. Gotta go. Catch up later.”

“Jace,” Kit groaned in frustration, but Jace had already hung up.

Tagging @gabtapia <3

[lovelysugawara]

**grammatical errors ahead, sorry guys**

plot: you and Kuroo are married, but your husband turns cold over you, because of an incident a year ago. Will he once again love you back???

Cont…

Part 14

*Hina’s POV*

Weeks have been pretty tiring but I felt whole.

Tetsu and I are back to what we used to. Kenma also commented that we are like a newlywed and I couldn't even agree more.

My husband has been in his best mood as ever. He’s the sweetest. He always made sure that I’m okay and happy.

On the other hand, I know he still blames himself that our marriage almost fell apart. I always convinced him that we are finally together and it’s all because of him.

He’s like a baby when his mood starts to dwell with the past, and I didn’t stop telling him that it’s all fine now. Tetsu sometimes cries a little, and hugs me tight every night.

As for Mayuri, I’m so shocked learning the truth about her. She’s a stalker who keeps on following Kuroo way back in college, she changed a lot and even her name and it’s too late for Tetsu to discover that. Good thing Kenma helps us about Mayuri and she’s now under observation of a mental institute.

“You know, if you only tell us about what is happening, we could have helped you. I didn’t know you'd cry like a baby, Kuroo.” Yaku said, as we all are having a little chit chat together with some Nekoma team members at our living room.

“That’s really my mistake, I shouldn’t really hide it.” Tetsu said as he put his hand on my shoulder and I felt him bringing close to him. 

“Well good thing is, you two are finally together, that’s good.” Kai pointed out the important details.

“And I will never ever let that happen. I will never hurt my wife from now on.” My husband said.

“I remember how you talked and flirted with Alisa at the party way back, I really wanted to punch you, you know that?” Yaku is a little bit pissed at Kuroo now.

 “Hey, I’m not flirting with Alisa. She’s asking me about some stuff regarding Lev’s. But i can’t help her so end of discussion.”

“Hey, what is that, Kuroo-san?” Lev peak on the side door while eating.

“Just asked your sister, Lev,” Kuroo said, exasperated.

“But do you really mean to say that Hina’s cooking is really bad? You praised Alisa’s dish, remember?” Kenma suddenly says as he keep on playing on his phone.

“OHHH! Right! Kuroo did that!!!” Yaku is so happy knowing he can roast Tetsu more.

I felt Tetsu stiffened and I knew they got him. So I decided to join teasing him.

“Seriously, Tetsu I know you don’t like my cooking but you don’t have to rub it to my face.” I acted like I’m hurt by his words.

And I also got him through my acting skills.

“Come on guys, stop it. I don’t want to sleep outside our room tonight.” He complained.

And we all laughed.

“Wait, what is that smell?” I said, it’s like rotting meat or wet garbage. It made my stomach churn and I wanted to throw up.

“Ugh, it’s really stinky.” I cover my nose and mouth with my hand and I really don’t like the smell/

“Are you talking about this?” Lev said and showed to me the durian fruit.

Ugh. so stinky!

“Oh please, Lev put that away. I hate the smell.” I said and even hid on Tetsu.

“It’s delicious though, but sure.” Lev walks about with the fruit on his hand.

“You don't like that fruit? But you can eat them before, right?” Tetsu said to me.

“Well, maybe not always.” I faintly smiled at him.

***

That afternoon, I found Kenma alone on the balcony of the house.

“Hey, Kenma,”

“Hina,” 

He weakly greets me.

“How are you?”  he said as he tuck his phone.

“Very much fine, I’m happy.” I said as I looked at the sky.

“That- that’s good. Hmm.” 

Kenma didn’t talk after he said that.

“Anything bothering you, Kenma?” 

He suddenly looked at me in my eyes and smiled.

“I’m just glad you’re happy. And I know I can finally move on.”

That took me seconds to register what he said to me.

“Move on? From what? Kenma?” I asked him.

“Hinari, I don’t know if I should tell you this, but I have to, or else you won’t reject me formally. I’m sorry.”

He held my right hand and looked me straight into my eyes.

“I’ve been in love with you since high school.”

With only that sentence, my mind traveled back in time remembering Kenma in high school. But all I can think about him is how I treated him as a younger brother and a very good friend.

So all this time, the woman he always tells us about, is me? Now that I think about it, it all makes sense because he said it’s a one sided love before. Because all those times Kenma always listened to me whenever I said I like Tetsurou. 

So all these times I only burden him and I hurt him?

Why didn't I realize this? Why am I so dense?

I can’t help but cry, my tears fall remembering those times I can only ask for Kenma’s help about my situation regarding Tetsu.

I ended up hurting him even more.

Why didn't I realize it? 

“Now, now stop crying, Hina.” Kenma smiled at me.

“Don’t blame yourself. It’s my choice not to confess to you before. You like Kuroo long enough than me realising I like you. So it’s fair. It’s just me who didn’t move on and continue loving you, resulting in me being hurt. Now I love you both, you and Kuro. That will never change.” 

His smile is very assuring, he’s happy now.

“Now, I’m waiting for your answer. My formal rejection.” Kenma  said as he put away his hand from me.

I inhaled deeply, and was ready to answer him.

“I’m so sorry, Kenma. I love Tetsu.” I said so directly, it might be the thing he wants to hear.

He once again smiles, “Thank you, Hina.” 

And then we both laugh. 

“That was a good rejection after so many years.” He said.

“I’m just curious why you didn’t tell me?” I insisted.

“Well because that idiot likes you too.” He rolled his eyes because Tetsu is now standing behind me.

“Yeah, and that idiot marries you. So how’s the confession?  Did you reject him?” Tetsu is like asking for a world war 3 with Kenma?

“Actually, Hina said to give her a few years so that she can divorce you.” Kenma said in his serious tone.

“WHAT?!” my husband suddenly jolted back. And I can only laughs at Kenma’s joke.

***

I wake up with a really bad headache, I can’t really stand and my stomach is still not fine.

I can’t sleep well these past few days.

I mostly stay in bed for days because I feel tired and feverish.

“What is it, love? Can’t sleep more? It’s only 6am.” Tetsu said while touching my face and he pushed away some hair from my face.

“You’re a bit feverish, want me to bring you some medicine?” He continued.

After he said that, I suddenly felt nauseous. And I guess I might throw up.

I hurriedly ran towards our bathroom and shut the door. 

I tried to vomit on the sink but nothing came out. And it adds to my dizzy feeling.

A mild knock followed, “Love, can I come in?

I wipe away some of my tears and also wash my mouth. And I open the door.

“Are you okay?” Tetsu said with a worried tone.

“Maybe I got a fever, I really don’t feel good. Can you bring me some medicine, then I’ll go back and sleep more.” I said tirely.

“Wait, love. When did you have your period?” He said.

“Huh?” Why ask me my period when I’m already-!

I cut what I’m thinking and looked shocked at Tetsu.

We both looked back at our hopeful eyes.

“Could it be that you’re pregnant, Hina?” Tetsurou said, hoping that it’s true.

***

A/N: See you on the last part next week ;) Thank you so much for your support guys. 

-

Taglist:

@dekuspet​ @mkkhaikyuu​ @captain-eagle-art​ @rozesarered @kurooloves @elianetsantana @saamsstuff @seijohsangel

[bondsmagii]

Regarding this cat that is perhaps not a cat at all. Definitely not MY cat.

ARCHIVIST

Statement of Orla McDonald, regarding a cat that is perhaps not a cat at all. Original statement given July 3, 2012. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London.

Statement begins.

ARCHIVIST (STATEMENT)

It started after Bella died. Or I suppose, after I thought Bella died. Bella was – is? – my cat, or at least I think she is, or was. I got her as a kitten and she’s now seven years old, if she’s actually still alive at all, which I’m pretty sure she must be as I saw her just this morning, when I was on my way here. Bella is a beautiful cat, long-haired, that grey colour they call blue and that I never understood until I looked at Bella when the light was just right and I could see she did look kind of blue after all. She has eyes to match, too – big and sea-blue, like you could dive right in – and she’s more photogenic than I am. Temperament wise, she’s a very chill cat. She likes to relax in the sun, stretch out over the sofa, basically just laze around as the lady of the manor. Altogether a very typical cat, right? Nothing remarkable at all.

Well, all apart from one thing. Every so often, perhaps once every few months, Bella just goes wild. It’s not like, you know, her time or anything, because she was fixed as a young cat because God knows I can’t be doing with kittens. Apparently it’s normal for cats to have times of the day where they just go crazy for some reason, running around and making a mess and yowling, but she doesn’t do that. It isn’t every day, or even a once a week thing. And it doesn’t last for a brief period of time, like what all the things I’ve read have said. She’s fine for months, chilling out and sleeping on the sofa, and then one day she’ll just wake up and it’s like a wild animal has moved into my house. She doesn’t go outside as a rule, because I worry too much about her, and usually she’s fine with that. But when she enters this state she will absolutely get out of the house no matter what. As soon as I open the door to go to work or to put the rubbish out, Bella will shoot out through even the tiniest gap and off she goes. There’s nothing I can do about it at all. Once – and only once – I tried to stop her, and she clawed up my arm so badly I still have scars. It was the first and only time she’d ever scratched me, and I was stunned. It got the message across, though. I’m not happy about it, but I have no choice but to let her out. I worry about her, but it’s not like I can stop her, and also I don’t particularly want her in the house when she’s in that mood? It sounds neglectful, I know, but she really does just rip the place apart.

There’s a lot of danger when it comes to cats outside, and I live right by a main road, and yeah. I won’t go into detail, but the inevitable happened. I wasn’t too shocked? I mean, I think deep down, I always knew. That’s what happens, right? Obviously I was devastated, and finding her was… well, I didn’t find her, I should say I found out, because she had a collar and the driver… God, I feel so sorry for her too, you know? She was so good about it, she could have just driven off because that’s what most people do when someone hits a pet on that road – my neighbours just let their cats run wild and I’ve called the RSPCA so many times but anyway, that’s not the point. The driver was only a young girl, maybe eighteen or nineteen, couldn’t have been driving long. She brought Bella up to my door, wrapped tight in a blanket like she was sleeping. Thank God there wasn’t any visible injuries. We even talked for a little bit; I tried to reassure her that I didn’t blame her, that it wasn’t her fault, but I don’t think she believed me. How could she? I still think about her even now, wishing that I could somehow explain that Bella was still alive, but… I’m not even sure that’s what’s going on, but if it makes her feel better, right? I don’t know. I brought Bella into the house and I just sat with her for a while, talking to her. Calling her a little idiot, asking what got into her. Telling her I loved her. You know. That kind of thing. I held her in my arms and rocked her like she was a little baby, and after some time – I’m not sure how long, maybe half an hour? – I became aware that she was moving. She was moving around in the blanket like she was trying to get out, and in my shock I let go and the blanket fell into my lap and out she jumped. She even gave me an indignant little meow as she did so, like I’d been deliberately keeping her in there. She sat, washed a paw, and then trotted into the kitchen where I kept some food laid out for her. I just sat there in shock.

I mean, cats have nine lives, right? That’s what they always say. I’m not sure what Bella got up to on her other trips outside, but as far as I knew, she’d never lost a life before. She’s always been a healthy cat, no scares, no accidents until that one. I get that it’s just a saying, but something in me wondered if there was more to it then. I was sure she was dead. She might not have been, because admittedly I didn’t check for a pulse or breathing or anything, and the accident had just happened so she wasn’t cool or stiff. The only proof I have is the weight there was to her when I took her from the young driver’s arms. It’s called a dead weight for a reason; it wasn’t the sleepy heaviness she had when I would try and get her to budge over at night, or how she would go deliberately limp when I lifted her away from something she wasn’t allowed to eat. This was a different kind of weight, and while I’ve been fortunate enough to have never handled any kind of dead body before then, I just instinctively knew what that weight was; what it meant. It was so heavy – literally the absence of all life. She was dead, and then she wasn’t, and of course I was glad for it but I was naturally very uneasy.

After a couple of days I brought her to the vet. I couldn’t stop thinking about it, couldn’t stop analysing her for signs she might be acting differently, or I suppose for proof that I hadn’t somehow imagined it. I explained what had happened to the vet, but I suppose I chickened out of saying that she was absolutely dead – I don’t think the vet would have believed me. Or at least she would have explained away how I must have been mistaken, and I know I wasn’t mistaken but I also know I would have probably been so eager to believe her that I would have convinced myself I was, and I don’t know. I just said she seemed dead, and then she was fine. They put Bella through a bunch of tests and scans and sure enough everything showed up just fine; their best guess was that she hadn’t been struck at all, but had maybe just had the life frightened out of her and passed out or something, like how a person can get a shock and faint. I suppose that’s not impossible? Something about the vet’s choice of words struck me, though. Frightened the life out of her. It really did seem like that was what had happened – like whatever made Bella Bella had been… taken. Or vanished. Like the fear had replaced it entirely.

That’s not to say Bella was a frightened cat after that. She acts much the same, if I’m honest. She’s still pretty chill, she’s still always lazing around not doing much of anything, but there’s something just off about her. There’s a look in her eyes that I can’t quite explain. Have you ever seen an animal and you’re kind of like oh my God, it looks like a little old man or old woman or something? There’s just something about the face that looks so human, or they pull an expression and you just know what they mean? It was kind of like that with Bella’s eyes – they looked human. Sometimes she looked at me with an understanding that was beyond… beyond what a cat should be able to conceptualise. I know, I know, we don’t actually understand as much about animal intelligence as we’d like, and we don’t know just how much about their environment they do or do not understand, but I’m telling you it was different with her. She had never acted like that before and I’d never seen her look like that before. It’s so strange. I considered maybe some kind of brain damage affecting her personality, but the vets found absolutely no injuries at all. I even took her back to ask about it, just saying that she was acting out of character, but they could find nothing wrong with her that time either. Scans came back fine. She was her usual self with the vet. I felt – I feel – like I’m going insane.

As if all this wasn’t bad enough, I’ve started noticing some… really odd things. A couple of weeks ago I woke up in the middle of the night, just wide awake like something had deliberately woken me. I couldn’t remember hearing anything, but I just knew that something, some noise, had woken me. I sleep deeply, too, so it would have to be some noise – I mean, I’ve actually slept through a fire alarm once, it’s that bad. Whatever happened had to be some kind of I don’t even know, explosion or something, or it had to have happened very close to where I was sleeping. I sat up and turned on my light, and my bedroom door was fully closed. I never fully close it because Bella likes to come in and out, but it was completely closed and when I went over to look, there was a crack in the wood running from the top and bottom of the panel where the handle was attached. It looked like it had been slammed shut with extreme force, and I suppose that’s what woke me. I was confused, obviously, and I didn’t even consider the implications until I heard footsteps on the stairs. Thankfully they were running away from me, but I heard them as clear as anything – thud thud thud on the stairs, like a fully grown man in heavy boots. I was absolutely petrified. I had these horrible thoughts of some creep sneaking around in my room while I was asleep, but nothing was moved and there were no prints on the carpet and the room didn’t feel like anyone had been in there. It didn’t seem as… well, as simple as that, so I found the courage to ease the door open and peer out. The house was still and silent, and as I crept towards the top of the stairs I knew that I was definitely alone in the house – there was no other presence. I finally looked around the corner and down the stairs and the only thing I could see was Bella’s vague outline, sitting at the bottom of the stairs and looking right at me, her eyes glinting in the dim light.

I don’t know why she frightened me so much then. I think it was because of the glow of the streetlight outside, coming in through the frosted glass of the front door. I suppose the effect of the glass could have caused it, but for a moment her shadow… didn’t match. It was elongated, jagged, like her joints were all harsh angles. Like a bare tree in winter, all knots and wild angles, sharp and rough. Whatever fur she had didn’t show up in the shadow – she looked short-haired or even hairless, and her jaw was longer and more canine. I took a half-step back and from that angle her shadow looked normal again, and she meowed at me and trotted quite normally into the living room and out of sight, but I didn’t miss the way she looked at me. I got the distinct impression that she knew I had seen.

It sounds ridiculous, I know. Even writing this, I feel stupid. I do think maybe I should go and speak to someone, because now I’m laying it out I do wonder if I might have just suffered a horrible shock thinking Bella was dead, and then I’ve just created this strange story around the whole thing. Maybe she was fine. Maybe she did just faint. Maybe it’s all in my head. I have no idea, but something about it just doesn’t seem that simple at all. I keep going back to that old saying, that cats have nine lives. Perhaps I’m thinking too deeply into it, but I have to wonder if those lives are all the same one. I mean, does it just refer to close calls? That they get lucky and get more tries? Or do they get nine separate lives? If they do, where do they get the extras from? Is it still theirs, or does it come from… somewhere else?

I don’t know if Bella is still a cat, but even if she is, I don’t think she’s still… my cat. Or maybe she is? I don’t know. I’m still glad she’s here, but… well. I sleep with my door closed now. With the chair against it. And that’s not really normal, is it?

ARCHIVIST

Statement ends.

This is certainly one of those statements that makes me wonder why I’m here. An unnerving story, yes, but I do wonder if this isn’t an exercise in creative writing or perhaps as Ms McDonald said: some kind of post-traumatic episode following the shock of believing her pet to have met an unpleasant end. If it is, I imagine that the shock will eventually wear off and Ms McDonald will stop believing that her pet cat has been possessed by some kind of entity, or whatever she believes is going on. There isn’t much to investigate in regards to this, either – the nature of the incident makes it very difficult to ascertain facts, and checking with the veterinary clinics in the area of the address Ms McDonald provided was a waste of time. They either don’t remember any such cases, or they are not inclined to discuss patient information.

As for Ms McDonald herself, she has since moved away from the property and left no forwarding address. The house is, as reported, situated on a main road and the residents there suffer all the frequent calamities from having one’s front garden directly attach to a road with a 60 mile an hour speed limit – collisions with pets and cars emerging from driveways, and occasional car-house collisions. A few neighbours remembered Ms McDonald and reported that she was a pleasant and completely unremarkable young woman, causing no trouble and certainly never acting like she might be suffering from any kind of mental distress. A few neighbours also recalled Bella, having seen her stalking through their back gardens or, more frequently, sitting in Ms McDonald’s living room window. Nobody reported anything strange about the cat at all; certainly not elongated shadows. It was impossible to track down the driver of the vehicle said to have struck Bella with the information provided with this statement, and with that any potential leads were exhausted – though I confess to not being entirely sure where they might have led to even if we had found them.

Not exactly debunked, but certainly not worth filing away as open. I’m considering creating a new designation for statements containing material perhaps better discussed with a therapist.

End recording.

[bangtanblurbs]

love is not over

song: love is not over (full length edition)

first experience: what do we qualify as the first experience? the release in HYYH pt. 1 or the full length release on young forever? with almost a year in between the releases timing does bring about different memories for me. 

the 2015 release of HYYH pt. 1 found me a few weeks after a rather terrifying trip to the emergency room with a diagnosis that would forever change my life - the way i live physically and emotionally. this album was the first album i experienced as ARMY. i found BTS through I NEED U, and quickly devoured the HYYH pt. 1 album in may. love is not over was a track that immediately stuck with me. i remember laying in the grass of my university quad, outside my dorm building, soaking in the sun - putting it on and smelling the spring air. it was tremendously comforting for me. i didn’t immediately look for a lyric translation, i didn’t feel like i needed it. i felt every emotion through the song without even knowing it’s true intended meaning. hindsight - i wish i had looked up those lyrics. 

as for the full edition release in 2016, i was actually working in macau at time time as a researcher. i’d been there for about two weeks when young forever dropped. i have the funniest story about me running through the streets of hong kong, completely lost, in mad pursuit of the physical copy of the album. that is for another day though. (also plenty of fun stories of attending the HYYH epilogue concert in macau - i’ll include my horrible video of love is not over from the concert as well). i was so happy to see an extended version of love is not over on the album - i never could have imagined or anticipated it... it was such a delight. having the extended version was almost like what getting young forever was to bookending the saga of HYYH pt. 1 and HYYH pt. 2. i associate this song heavily with my experiences falling in love with macau, falling in love with myself in a way i hadn’t before, and falling head over heels with the world. a very difference first experience considering the low place i was in with the original release. 

it is important to note that the extended version of the song adds in the rap verses for all of rapline, and offers us a very different conclusion than the original release (which was a source for debate among 2015 army for it’s place in the larger HYYH saga and the interesting *jibberish* at the ending of the song, more on this in the lyrics section). 

feelings: lyrically, love is not over is a breakup song. it’s that kind of song where the singer is begging their significant other not to leave, not to say goodbye. it’s the kind of song you listen to after you get dumped. you’re devastated, the other person seemed perfect... whatever comes next for you, you can’t imagine that person not being a part of it. love becomes nothing but pain in that moment. you lament it. you beg for love to fade and fall away. but... in some ways it’s not. to me, in my view the song is also about one’s relationship with themselves. or at least i see it that way. the song isn’t so much about this one specific girl -- it’s about love in general -- it’s about how they’re upset at the fact that love is always pain for them, it’s goodbye after goodbye, there’s no stability, there’s nothing but pain. i’ll make this point in the lyrics section more clear.

it’s this very point that makes the song resonate with me. at this point in my life, and even now, goodbyes terrify me. i carry the baggage of years of goodbyes, those that were intentional and those that happened for reasons outside of my control. they’re damaging. they make you start to see love as pain. why let others in? why love? what’s the point if it’s all going to end abruptly. you’re left with grief, broken dreams, despair. i’ve been through even more at this point in my life than i had when i first heard love is not over. i should be hardened by the pain i’ve felt over the years. yet - i am not. not completely. i haven’t let bitterness taint me completely. 

strangely, when i listen to love is not over, i can’t help but feel in love - the beat - something about the pure R&B sound of it, it’s the perfect build and smoothness, it sounds like what love would sound like (if in fact emotions could become sound waves). the beat is calming and smooth, never loud, never melancholy. the song makes me feel, once again, comforted - like even though i’m hardened, even though love is pain, even though it has the capacity to hurt, it’s not over - and it’s still an emotion that i long to feel and express to those who inevitably come into my life. the song makes think about how i’ll always have the capacity to love and accept love. even if there’s moments i go through where i want to scream that love is dead - i know it’s not, i know that i’ll always love again. 

personal connection: i probably relate to this song in a way that very few others do. maybe i’m interpreting it differently, or perhaps it’s because for me, the song doesn’t map neatly onto a life experience for me - yet i still love it dearly and it’s brought me immense comfort. it’s not a song i cry to with the thoughts of a past relationship in mind. it’s more about my internal discoveries and my relationship with how i love, express love to others, and how i experience and process rejection and change in my life. 

for me, listening to love is not over brings me to a point where i’ve realize that despite being a hopeless romantic i’m a complete cynic. i’ve taken all the personality tests, i know my star sign... among all of that i can tell you i am deeply idealistic and i live inside my head where i build fantasy worlds and scenarios, where i romance everything. i fall in love with the world around me one-hundred times a day. i’m deeply in love with my friends that i hold dearly close to me. yet, and probably because of these visions of grandeur, i’m often let down. i expect the fantastic, and when things fall short i’m hurt. to make matters worse i’m a deep devotee to the church of self-loathing. i know it’s all my fault that i put so much love and care into everything around me, everyone around me, so when things fail, when inevitably the goodbye comes, i place the blame squarely on my shoulders. 

at the point that the extended version of this song came out i was in the process of falling in love with the very world around me. i was out of the US, experiencing something so new and foreign for me. a place that i quickly took in. a place that changed me, made me so much better. healed me to a point where i could leave a toxic relationship - without fearing that goodbye - the goodbye i feared far more was leaving macau, heading back to the states to start my masters degree. i wasn’t in macau for a long time but that experience, i fell in love so many times. not with people per say, but with feelings, with my surroundings, with a slower way of life. when it came time to say goodbye, it was like breaking up with a new life for me. i felt pain. i almost wished i hadn’t experienced a life where i was so happy - only to go back to a world where i had to confront the reality that was my life. the tatters i’d left back in atlanta.

when i came back home things weren’t as i’d left them. i was returning to do my master’s degree at the same institution where i received my four year undergraduate degree. nobody was there that had previously been. i felt abandoned, i felt alone, the love i had in my heart both for a foreign place that was now out of reach, but also for the friends that my university had previously held, hurt. it was pain. i longed and yearned for those places, times, and people yet again. so much so that i hurt myself in the process. i spent nights alone with my wine bottles and emotions. it took a while to get out of the place i was in, but i did in fact love again - love wasn’t over. i learned to fall in love with new people, fall in love with the old in a new way, fall in love with my dreams. for me, love is not over is almost like the story of learning to love yourself, learning to love how you love. and not just in a romantic way, but how you love more generally. if the song were meant to only speak to intense romantic relationships why would namjoon’s verse allude to the shallowness of the relationship at the heart of the song? for me -- i’m still learning how to get back up when love becomes pain, how to recover from putting love into the world and not always receving it back. love is not over. it’s a process. it’s always with me, even if it’s not always returned. even if it’s not always right. it’s there. 

song breakdown

musically: i would like to make the assertion that the full length edition of love is not over is one of bangtan’s best songs. every member’s performance shines through, it’s a perfect dramatic ballad song but the rap verses perfectly complement the perfection of the vocal line portions of the song. 

the slow and soft start with the piano - it fits the mood of the lyrics perfectly. the way in which the harmonies work together to highlight the emotions of the song. stunning. the introduction of the drum beat at the chorus and the R&B undertrack that runs from the chorus through the rap verses is soothing ~ it picks up the mood completely, infusing the song with hope. the playful beats throughout hoseok’s verse which go in time with “stop” and “dot” it’s complete genius. the melodic backing track that picks up with yoongi’s verse is unexpected but completely complements his increased rap pace. the return to the slow for the bridge as we get the upper-ranges of vocal line... it’s hard to put into words how *perfectly* produced this song is. and -- produced by jungkook. i believe this is his first producing credit, and what a song for it to be. it’s genius in every way. in the outro: version of the song jin is also credited in production and songwriting. it seems that this duo are R&B geniuses along with slow rabbit.

the smooth pick up of the beat - it’s classic R&B at its very very very BEST. the asian style is not something to be skipped as well. there’s clear elements that are echoed throughout the entire HYYH series. the song feels old school, nostalgic for some kind of 90s R&B but with the new twist to it. it fits the mood completely, wishing and longing for something that is now in the past. the song builds around the choruses and in the rap verses, expertly moving the emotions of the song along. much like the song is kind of about the ups and downs of love, the loss and the hope, the ugly and the beauty, the music matches this with it’s changes in tempo and sound. but it’s not overwhelming at all. love is not over is smooth - incredibly so - and it is the kind of song you can put on when you’re down, when you’re up... something about that makes it a complete masterpiece and a never skip.

vocally: i don’t have too much to say here other than love is not over is an OT7 song that showcases the talents of both rap and vocal line beautifully and equally. the balance in the song is one of my very favorite aspects of it. it’s not heavy on either side - we get the raps and we get the beautiful crooning - it’s a masterpiece in songwriting and production. it’s a masterpiece in performance. jungkook’s beautiful higher range is showcased in the opening of the piece and leads off the chorus and is felt throughout with adlibs. taehyung’s velvet lower register often follows jungkook in a beautiful contrast - offering us a soulful sultry sound. then jimin and jin take over and moves the song into the chrous with their beautiful high-registesr.  jimin builds the prechorus with power, which then is sung line by line and beautifully with all four voices complementing one another. vocal line harmonizes with one another throughout the song - offering plenty of stunning ad libs as well. 

rapline brings emotion and pain to the song with slower tempo raps in the second verse, started by namjoon and concluded by hoseok. namjoon’s gentle rap voice delivers a sense of understanding and comfort. meanwhile hoseok follows him up with a soulful rap, playing with the beat and building into a pleading tone at the end of his verse. the final rap verse is then taken by yoongi - he starts off slow and building to a more quick rap pace, adding in more emotion and bleeding in to jungkook’s crisp delivery of a modified bridge/final chrous. both jimin and jungkook provide several heavenly high notes throughout and the piece is ended with the solemn repetition of love is not over. it’s stunning, the vocals for all members truly shine in love is not over - there is no dominance, and the song makes for the perfect showcase of the group’s total talent. 

lyrically: jungkook is listed as the primary songwriter for love is not over, but he was assisted by jin, pdogg, slow rabbit, and rapline contributed their own raps. i think it’s important to note because jungkook was only 18 at the time of the full length release, and even younger likely when he wrote the song. impressive. 

now - onto pulling this masterpiece apart completey. 

the slow and beautiful start to love is not over is grounded in a feeling of time passing, time flowing, as one sits through a “long night” that they can’t seem to escape. offering us both a headspace we’ve all been familiar with - sitting alone in your room late at night pondering life - and a feeling of something quite dark, the long night that going through a hard time can feel like. the lyrics then move to ask “why are you getting farther away? / so far that i can’t reach you?” these lines are clearly calling out to someone that was at one point very close with the speaker - a lover, perhaps a close friend, an emotion, a past identity... the options can be endless. it’s like as in the previous line, time is fading away, everything is going dark, and so is the relationship at the heart of the song. the song then asks “can’t you see me in your eyes anymore?” the line almost begging, what has changed, why am i no longer someone you consider, no longer someone you’d like to have in your space? in your view? it’s crushing. the speaker can sense the relationship and the other pulling away, their once held affections and desire melting away to darkness - to a lack of presence. 

the song then moves into the chorus - almost a chantlike chorus which brings more emphasis and importance to the words. the lines begin: “love is so painful / goodbyes are even more painful.” beautifully outlining that opening oneself up to love, that vulnerability, it hurts - and when loves walks away from you, when the goodbye comes inevitably it’s even more crushing than the initial feelings of fear, anxiety, the nakedness that comes along with falling into love. “i can’t go on if you’re not here / love me, love me / come back to my arms” the speaker begs, pleads, feels completely powerless losing something so precious. when juxtaposed with the title of the song - love is not over - you begin to wonder, perhaps these words are just that? they’re words. there’s ultimately a piece of understanding that love is worth the pain and struggle, there is a hopefulness to this song, but we can’t find it in the chours.

the piece then moves into namjoon’s rap - lyrically powerful and delivered with nothing but raw emotion. he starts off telling an intimate story “you said goodbye to me / every night before i went to bed” emphasizing the closeness of the subject to him -- “i hated that even more than dying / it feels like this night is the end of you and me.” he laments those goodbyes, he’d rather have stayed in those beautiful moments, full of love, full of promise. instead things have gone dark and they’re ending now - the longest night has begun, with a simple “goodbye.” despite having emphasizing the closeness of the subject to him, namjoon then calls into question that “i don’t know you, you didn’t know me” perhaps he says this as an explanation, if they’d truly known one another then they’d have worked things out. made it all okay again. there’d have been no goodbye. it’s the realization that perhaps he’d been in love with someone he’d create in his head all along. he then moves along to say “you’re like hello and goodbye / at my beginning and my end / there” emphasizing that things with the subject had been up and down, all over the place, bliss and pain. this goes back to the statement about love being pain, it’s something the speaker wants desperately, yet it’s causing them pain? thus emphasizing the volatility and absolute confusion that happens to our emotions when they’re tangled up within another.

hoseok’s verse follows with its own beat and style. he emphasizes the separation in the first two lines “everything stopped like our red light / stop” and “nothing more to say, it ends with my tears / dot.” clearly he is drawing a line here, there’s no need for any more interaction between the two. it’s over. which in many ways contrasts with the begging nature of the choruses. which leans me to be inclined to think that this song is more about being in love with the emotion of love, a yearning for the emotion and feeling of love rather than a specific person that didn’t even know you. hoseok continues “i’m not okay i repeat this denial / recite, if you can recite my mind” asking the subject to recognize his emotions, his feelings towards concluding their relationship. “you are my endless love and my girl” the verse finishes out. bringing us back to the true story at hand, but not taking us away from the idea of wanting love for the overall feeling of love rather than for a specific person. 

the chorus repeats once again, then we are brought to yoongi’s verse. the emotion builds both in the sound of the song but also lyrically. hope is infused throughout this verse following strongly after more sad toned lyrics previously. he starts off “i always smile at you / even the love is a tragedy for me.” this line makes me think that the speaker recognizes that even if things are falling apart, there was something beautiful about being able to feel at all. that’s a major theme throughout the HYYH series. feeling, experiencing, not necessarily for the sake of others, but for the sake of exercising your youth, for growing, strengthening and building yourself. this part of life is the perfect time for it. “i always cry after it’s over / farewell even though it’s a comedy for you.” yoongi recognizes that the other party doesn’t carry the same emotions as him, it’s completely the oppostie for them. “yes nothing is everlasting / i live without you even i feel like dying” while not exactly hopeful, this line does contrast with the other lines about not being able to go on - yoongi specifically uses the word “live” he goes on, life goes on, he will continue to experience and it is at this point in the song where the first utterance of the song title is made. “over, over, love is not over” emphasizing that even if this is over, love lives on. it might be pain, it might be an unpleasant emotion, but it continues. finally yoongi ends his verse with a plead “please take me out of this endless maze” signifying that he finds the interactions with this particular type of love, or person, or moment in his life confusing and disorienting. but the thing is, mazes have exits - there’s a change he’ll find his way out and onto whatever is next. 

the chrous repeats one more time before the song in concluded with the beautiful chants of “love is not over, over, over” flipping the way in which yoongi uttered the line - ending with the word over. offering hope to the listener. the chant urging the speaker to believe their own words. there is a change, love is not over. it will happen again and again - “over and over” as the lyrics provide through the repetition of the lyrics. it’s understated but it’s a powerful message of hope, cycles, and avoidance of a true end. 

performance: you can easily find live performances of love is not over, most notably from the EPILOGUE in JAPAN concert. i also attended the HYYH EPILOGUE concert, but in macau back in 2016. i was really fortunate to experience love is not over performed live. i’ve uploaded the video here for you all the enjoy. please don’t mind any screaming you hear, i was clearly beside myself. i remember the emotions i felt hearing the song live - the vocals were pristine, the emotion in each voice was on display, the stripped down live band backing was beautiful. everything about the performance screamed emotion.

all seven bangtan members were seated on stools, dressed in black jeans and white blouses. behind the members a beautiful HYYH logo was lit up with the signature chain-link fence print. the beautiful understated nature of the performance amongst a sea of high-energy performances including baepsae, save me, I NEED U, and fire... the contrast was enough to make every ARMY at the show completely transfixed. did i cry? maybe. did i cry with a strange girl i’d met off of twitter only hours earlier? ...okay i’ll be honest - i really did. the song is powerful just as a track on an album, but experiencing it live, or even just watching the performance on youtube -- it’s powerful. the talents of these men are on full display, both rap and vocal line are able to highlight their abilities beautifully. 

tl;dr: love is not over is beautiful. it’s an earlier bangtan song, and it’s earned its place as a complete classic R&B bop. the sounds of each member’s voice, the lyrics, they’re melodic and soothing. the song is about heartbreak, but the interpretations in the context of the greater HYYH saga make it hopeful. love is something we often associate with youth. falling in love with others, ourselves, and our world - it can be painful... especially when we’re young and we realize that things aren’t always as we percieve them to be. but it’s all a part of learning. we will love again, and love isn’t over. it’s a cycle. 

[araisbored]

Obelisk

That’s the only quirky title I could come up to make this a little bit more interesting.

I’m reviewing my favorite book again. More like making another post about it. Because I seem like the type of person to not shut up about something she truly, truly, deeply love. Though, I won’t really making a review. Because I am in no state to make one of those. I don’t know I just I’m not that qualified to that yet. Though I read millions of books, I still won’t. I re-read my last “review” and it just make me cringe because I can’t understand what I’m saying and there’s a bunch of errors on my sentence. Not that this whole post won’t containing grammar errors, but still. Also, the cringing intensifies when I saw that Jennifer Niven (the author of this book) liked my bizarrely wrong blog entry. Ms. Niven, if by any chance, reading this again, I love your work and I’m sorry for a lot of grammatical errors. Ms. Niven, your work changed my life and help me get through a rough time. Sounds cliché but its the truth. 

To repeat what I typed, I won’t make a review. Yet, I’ll post a very private diary log which where I somehow discuss my opinions about this book. So here it is. 

Trigger warning: Suicide topics, cutting and mental issues might come up on the next following paragraph. And it’s really graphic. Because it is a personal log on my digital diary. Beware. 

May 17, 2019: Theodore’s death, Avengers: End game and GoT discussion.

I never had a proper review of this book. Because lets be real here. Its me and probably won’t matter. Last time or more like last last year, I made a book recommendation/favourites about this book. And I emphasize on that blog post that it’s not a book review. NOT A BOOK REVIEW. At all.

Because:

I am scared of the internet scrutinizing my opinions and views about this book.

It’s about mental health or part of it. So it is really a sensitive topic and I even haven’t figured myself out. So I’m not really sure if  I’m the right person you want to have an opinion regarding with this topic. One thing about me is that you don’t go asking me questions on how you figured your life or how you deal with depression because, oh boy oh boy you’re in a wrong place honey.

Last night I searched Theodore Finch on twitter. Yes, twitter. Because that is where you get the real opinions. Real tea. As well as the stupid ones. And I read one thread or whatever you call it, some sort of a conversation or replies from one girl to another. (I just assumed you’re girl and I’m sorry if you’re not. I am really sorry for misgendering you.) The other girl said that she’s kind of annoyed how everyone around Theodore doesn’t get the signs when it’s literally on their faces. When you come to think of it. Its true. All the signs of Theodore’s disease was there. Bluntly on their faces. It’s kind of fascinating how it’s not noticed by his family and friends or even Violet. But again right now thinking about it, maybe because it happened when this world just slowly noticing or paying attention about mental health. Hold a second, let me search when it was published. Yeah, I'm right its 2015. A year of coming of age for the late Baby Boomers are introduced to depression and when people, mostly teenagers are committing suicide. I would be very harsh on my words because it was just me talking to myself anyways. So yeah, that's also the year where I'm cutting myself and wanted to kill myself. So no wonder Finch’s family have no idea about his mishaps and adventures. So about that discussion, it was already solved. That year was just the year where naïve people are introduced to mental health and issues. Anyways, back to that conversation. The other girl defended the book/author. That the author, Jenifer Niven, was just portraying real life happenings. That these things happens in real life. People really die because of mental health issues. By the way, Finch mental diagnosis wasn’t really mentioned on the book directly. As far as I can remember. That’s why I'm re-reading it again now. But so far zero mentioned of diagnosis or bipolarity(Is that even a word? idc.). Just the mention of him wanting to kill himself, the erotic changes in his moods, lack of appetite and being insomniac. He doesn’t sleep one night or he sleeps then have very bad nightmares after that. It’s pretty obvious but again, let’s refer to the points given above. Oh, oh! Then there’s one time he repainted his bedroom from blood red to blue. If that’s not alarming enough then idk anymore. But yes, 2015. The coming of age and the year where we birthed more stupid late boomers. But, yes. Wild book. A very wild and very BRILLIANT book. It’s the stupid characters or the people in Finch’s life that suck. Which is why I kind of sided to the girl who said that that the author doesn’t really write the characters well. Let’s call her Girl A. And the other girl who defend Niven, Girl B. I’m pretty sure you’re both girls but just in case, I’m gonna apologize again if I'm  misgendering you. Or if you don’t wanna be called a girl. I can’t say or disclose that Girl B was wrong because he clearly have a point too. It happens in real life. People die from depression and I might be one soon.

Just wanna say that It’s a good discourse. Arguments like that are my favorites where both sides are not wrong nor right either, makes you really think. A read. Both the book and that twitter discourse. If you happened to read it, good. But if not sorry I can’t link it for you. 

So for my opinion (oh no, here we go) I agree on both of them , as if its not yet obvious. I guess if it was written in the present days the author could’ve change the characters and made Finch alive. Or checked-in in a mental institution or he’ll be given a medical assistance he really needs. Because the only medical attention he was given was thru his Guidance councilor, Embryo. Which is a good thing, but also I think Finch’s situation needs more professional attention. No offence to all guidance councilors out there. I know you guys try your best. But you know, Niven can make Finch visit a psychiatrist in a clinic/mental institution right? Like violet. I know Finch’s financial state is bad but.. idk there’s something can be done here. But again it was during that time where people are shouting “Depression isn’t real”, stupid people posting tweets and Facebook status on how “Suicide is for the week”; they watch 13 reasons why and decided to skip the whole point of the show and just assumed that “yeah depression is for the weaklings”. It only shows how ignorant people are. They’re the kind of people who standby when you get punch on the face or laugh when people spreads rumors and lies about you. Basically, bystanders. I’m sorry I’m a little snappy. If you haven’t noticed. I don’t know I’m just mad today.

I think the book still holds it. And justify the ending. Though part of me really hate it too. But it kind of made me realized about a lot of things, not just about me but also about how I should interact with other human beings. I hate the ending because it breaks my heart but I guess it was necessary?? Or not. Any how,  It was a good ending. Maybe its just me because I’m a masochist. But I can not think of any other impactful and realistic way on ending it. (Rereading this again and I just need to clear things up. That IM NOT A MURDERER OR A KILLER. I DONT NORMALIZE SUICIDE,  but from a standing point the ending is justified. Its sad but its, again, realistic.) But still, breaks my heart, Theodore is a precious boy. Who deserves nothing but love. And I hope his story was more known by the people so jackasses would know how to treat their family and friends better. 

[This part was cut because I talked about Avengers and GoT ending; Which is very relevant to this topic]

Love,

Ara xx

So yeah, that’s some of my diary entry. Re-reading it makes me realized how funny I am. Jesus I should read more of these. Who knows, I might post it here. If it’s not that personal. I’ll end this here now. I hope wherever you are you’re having a good day.

Ttyl, Ara!

[bulletproof-korean]

태리쌤~ 도와주세요 ㅠㅠ 경치랑 풍경의 차이점은 뭐예요? I watched a video (Catch The Wave - 경치 vs. 풍경) on YouTube which explains the difference but I am still very confused. The video didn't really help me to answer my question at all. (Yess I learnt the word 풍경 from Taehyung's song ofc)

안녕하세요~ 늦은 대답 죄송하고ㅠㅠ 최대한 선명히 설명해보도록 할게요~ I never really thought deeply about the difference between these two words but I’ll try my best!

First of all, these two words contain the same hanja 景 경, which means sun/sunshine and that is already confusing sometimes. I’ll translate what the hanja dictionary says about these words:

- 경치 “the beautiful side of nature” (자연의 아름다운 모습)

- 풍경 “what you would call what is in the middle of a situation, circumstance or mood” (어떤 상황이나 형편이나 분위기 가운데에 있는 어느 곳의 모습)

The Naver 국어사전 lists them as synonyms, the same as the 국어대사전 from the National Institute of Korean Language. It is probably a very instinctive difference, that Korean native speakers don’t have to think about. 

The video meant for Korean learners defines the difference like this:

- 경치 - what you see from somewhere, usually vast, it can be a landscape or cityscape

- 풍경 - what you would call your surroundings

To me this definition is too, kinda confusing. So I’ll try to sum it up:

- 경치 is what you can see with your own eyes, not in a painting. It is used in the phrase “경치가 좋다” a lot.

- 풍경 can be used in the phrase above as well, but would probably not be the first choice for native speakers. One notable difference is that 풍경 can be short for 풍경화 “landscape painting”. You would also use it to call what you see in a photograph - as in the case of Taehyung’s song.

I hope this helped clear your confusion at least a little💕 -Taeri

[pietromelim]

A Thomas Lightwood Bisexual Story (Part 2 and final) takes place after Chain of Gold so will have spoilers!!

-That is quite the story. Though i must admit,i would never expect such a thing from you,Tom.-Matthew said,with a grin on his face.

Thomas really wanted to hide his face in a hole somewhere,he knew that at least one of his friends would make fun of him because of the way they found him at the Devil Tavern.

And of course,it had to be Matthew,which wasn't that surprising,since he was the Libertine of The Merry Thieves. James and Christopher were too shocked to tease him about anything.

-Not sure if i will ever even sit on that bed again. Perhaps it would be better if Christopher burned those sheets.-Said James.

-Indeed! I have always wanted to set fire in that bed. It annoyed me,though i can't recall the reason why.-Said Christopher.

Thomas rolled his eyes.

-Do as you please. It's not like something like this will ever happen again. I was a little drunk yesterday as well,surely we can blame this on the alcohol.-Said Thomas.

-If you say so. Perhaps we could just ask the Italian girl if we see her. It is very likely that she will appear at the Institute eventually.-Said Matthew.

-Then i should really make myself scarce.-Thomas said.

-Why worry? I was under the impression that she told you herself that it would mean nothing,and that it wouldn't be like you ruined her.-James asked.

-It would still be very awkward. I am such an awful pill! I was out of my mind completely! My mother would be ashamed of what i did! And Eugenia...-Thomas was saying,but Matthew stopped him.

-There is absolutely no need to fret over this,Thomas. Let it be then. This girl is probably smart enough to ignore you completely.-Said Matthew.

-That seems unlikely. We are having a gathering at the Institute today,to celebrate the destruction of the Mandikhor.-James said.

Thomas shook his head.

-Bloody hell! You have to be kidding me!-Said Thomas.

-I understand you frustration,dearest cousin. I was also hoping i could spend the afternoon in the lab,until my father literally told me he would lock me in the lab for an entire month if i didn't show up at the Institute today.-Said Christopher.

-Apparently,Uncle Gabriel maybe worried that you are lacking social skills. Perhaps he wishes to introduce you to beautiful ladies?-Said Matthew,smiling.

-Haven't i met every beautiful lady in the Enclave by now?-Christopher asked.

-Cease the conversation! Do you not see that our Tom here is deeply scared of seeing the italian girl again?-Said James,laughing.

Thomas tried to laugh as well,that is what he should be doing. But he simply couldn't,he was way too embarassed.

He did not wanted to see Giovanna again.

"Later"

The Merry Thieves were finally at the Institute,which was indeed,full of people. Seemed like the celebration was being taken seriously.

Thomas was feeling uneasy,knowing that Giovanna could literally pop up out of nowhere to haunt him. He could have avoided all of that,if he had listened to reason.

It seemed pointless to think about that now. It was probably better if he focused on acting as normally as he could.

-Is everything okay,Tommy? You look rather pale.-Said a voice Thomas knew very well.

Gideon. His father. Thomas could not help but wonder how Gideon would react if he revealed his doings of the last night.

-I am fine. Just wasn't really in the mood for a party now.-Said Thomas,without looking to Gideon's eyes.

Gideon shrugged.

-Just try to have fun. Your friends seem to be enjoying themselves.-Said Gideon,pointing to the rest of the Merry Thieves.

Thomas approached them,and Matthew pulled him close.

-Have you seen our ragazza already? You must be quite scared,eh?-Asked Matthew,laughing.

-How does he get drunk this quickly?-Asked Thomas.

-It must be his hidden talents,though i'm not really sure how that helps him. Thomas,i already told you,stop worrying about the girl. Your parents will notice your uneasiness.-Said James.

-If it were that easy. Where is Christopher? I thought Uncle Gabriel forced him to come?-Said Thomas.

-Oh he is here! You can see him there,probably explaining about the antidote to my stupid brother and Grace Blackthorn.-Said Matthew.

Thomas looked at them,near the door. Christopher speaked quite quickly about everything. Charles was probably pretending to be interested,since he wanted to become Consul and had to listen to people and their blabbering. Grace was likely dying of boredom.

-She looks stunning in that ivory dress.-James said.

Matthew slapped James' hand.

-You are engaged,Mr.Herondale. Have that in mind before you go drool all over the floor Grace steps on.-Said Matthew.

James seemed to have cursed in a whisper,which wasn't surprising for Thomas. Only their little group of friends knew that James and Cordelia's marriage was a sham.

But Thomas wasn't feeling patient to deal with those things today. He just wished the party would be over quickly so that he could leave the Institute without the risk of seeing Giovanna again.

One could only hope,and that was exactly what Thomas was going to do.

"Hours Later"

-Are you looking for anyone in specific,Tom? Or have you forgotten how the Institute's ballroom looked like?-Anna asked,she sat beside him,looking stunning as always.

-I'm actually trying to avoid someone that may or may not show up.-Said Thomas.

-That seems to be very dull. This whole celebration is actually turning to be quite a bore. Good thing my parents won't mind if i leave to go to the Hell Ruelle today.-Said Anna,smiling.

-Is that so? It doesn't surprise me that you prefer that scandalous place over a simple ball.-Said Thomas.

-Oh i assure you,the Hell Ruelle is more than just scandalous. You should come with me sometime. You will have the time of your life.-Said Anna.

Thomas didn't quite knew if Anna was being serious or not. She probably found him way too dull to enjoy a place like the Hell Ruelle. But he wouldn't have to worry about seeing Giovanna again if he left the party.

Thomas didn't knew if Gideon or Sophie would mind,but he wasn't worried either. The Hell Ruelle did seem to be quite scandalous. But after what he did,why not give it a shot?

-Anna,before you leave,please try to find me. I want to go to the Hell Ruelle along with you.-Said Thomas.

Anna's eyes widened with surprise. It has been ages since Thomas last saw Anna surprised with anything.

-Are you absolutely sure? You do know that the Ruelle has a reputation,do you not?-Asked Anna.

Thomas nodded.

-I do,and that is why i wish to go with you.-He said.

Anna simply smiled.

-Follow me then!-She said.

"At the Hell Ruelle"

-This is the Ruelle,Thomas! Be sure of this,you will never find a place like the Ruelle!-Said Anna.

Thomas could barely analyze the place,it was just so full of people,and every single one of them were downworlders. The blue fire of the warlocks gave the place a unique atmosphere.

He recognized some of the famous downworlders,like Magnus Bane and his cat eyes,Malcolm Fade and Hypatia Vex,that was smiling and talking to Anna.

Thomas wasn't expecting Anna to keep him company,it was obvious that she was there to entertain herself more than anything. Perhaps he should just do the same.

Thomas went to the bar table,where a Ifrit with four arms and jade colored skin was serving drinks. His expression changed slightly to one of distaste. Probably because Thomas was a Shadowhunter.

-Nephilim. Do you wish to drink something?-He asked,his voice was so husky.

Thomas took a few seconds to answer. He felt so out of place there,he needed something to make him feel more...at home.

-I want something strong. I wish to get drunk as quickly as possible.-Thomas said.

Weirdly,the Ifrit smiled,his teeth were as yellow as his eyes.

-That can be taken care of.-He said.

The Ifrit filled a glass with champagne,and then threw some pink colored powder in it.

-Drink it,Nephilim,and you will not remember a single thing when you wake up tomorrow.-The Ifrit said.

Thomas only nodded,and drank all the champagne,until the glass was completely empty.

He immediately felt quite dizzy,as if everything around him was spinning.

He walked to where the downworlders were dancing. It was quite a different dance,their bodies where so close,that was something Thomas would never see in the balls of the Shadowhunters.

-Yes! Shadowhunters are so dull! We are a great bore!-Thomas said,he felt like he was screaming,but the sound of the music was probably louder than his voice.

He bumped into someone,and nearly fell to the ground. Whatever it was the Ifrit gave him,it was definitely working.

Thomas looked at the boy whose he had just bumped. It was definitely a warlock,his skin had a very bright blue tone,almost white. His hair was pale as the moon,his eyes were star-shapped,just like the ones of Hypatia Vex,and were as green as the forest.

The boy was really handsome,in that magic and supernatural way only warlocks could be. He smiled to Thomas.

-An angel in the Hell Ruelle? Are you not lost,angel boy?-He asked.

Thomas shook his head.

-I want to be here! I'm not as dull as everyone thinks! And i'm not just kind!-Thomas said.

He barely had control of his words,but something inside him felt like he would have a huge headache tomorrow.

-You surely are not dull! As a matter of fact,you seem to be the more interesting here!-He said.

Thomas got closer to him,almost without realizing. The warlock was quite handsome. And he did seemed interesting as well.

It was almost like Thomas felt an attraction to him. Which wasn't that surprising for Thomas. He knew at least that much about himself.

Though he did not know what to do know.

-You are interesting too! Do you have a name,mate!?-Thomas asked.

The warlock boy laughed.

-Would you remember it tomorrow if i tell you?-He asked,smiling.

-I cannot promise you that!-Thomas said.

And all of a sudden,his mouth was on Thomas',and they were kissing quite fiercely. His mouth tasted like a combination of wine and blue ruin.

It was a bittersweet sensation,almost addictive. Thomas felt like he could use some more of that.

His skin started to feel hot,as if the entire place began to burn. He unbuttoned his shirt,but the warlock boy stopped him.

-If you wish to go further,angel boy,them it will have to be in a more private place.-He said.

Thomas shrugged,almost taking his shirt off.

-I don't give a bloody hell!-Thomas shouted,the warlock laughed and grabbed him by his tie,taking him in to one of the inner chambers.

This one had a sapphire color,full of blue diamonds and other blue gems,like lapis lazuli,aquamarine and indicolite.

He threw Thomas on the bed,and began to take his clothes off. Thomas kicked off his shoes and took off his socks,his shirt was open.

He wasn't thinking straight,deep down he knew that. His mind was rather foggy. But what he was doing now,it didn't felt wrong.

The warlock was nearly nude,he crashed on Thomas as he layed on the bed. His light blue chest pressed against Thomas' skin,they were burning.

They kissed violently,Thomas' hands running down the back of the boy whose name he didn't even knew.

But it didn't matter,he wouldn't remember it anyways. Thomas removed his shirt and tossed it on the floor,he left the bed and managed to somehow lock the door.

And then he was back to the bed,and the night went on.

"The Next Day"

Thomas woke up in a place completely unknown too him. The only thing he realized at first was that it was all too blue.

The second thing he noticed was that he wasn't wearing any clothes. But there were no bed sheets covering him this time.

"Again? Must be a record or something." He thought.

And the third,and most surprising,was the blue warlock,nude as well,beside on the bed,still asleep.

Thomas quickly got up,looking at everything around him. He didn't exactly remembered what he had been up to. He couldn't remember the boy's name,and his head was exploding.

His clothes were in very unusual places around the blue room,much to his dismay.

-Did this really happened? Have i really done this? Oh Raziel! If my father could see me right now.-Thomas said,he was pretty sure the sleeping warlock was unable to hear him.

Thomas smiled,and then started to laugh a little bit. He was feeling many things,but regret was not one of them.

Perhaps it was just silly to think about Alastair. Thomas did not need him for anything. Anna was right about the Hell Ruelle after all.

He didn't knew if he would ever return,but he did knew himself a lot better right now.

And he was happy with that.

[soveryanon]

Reviewing time for MAG161 /o/

- I… really wasn’t expecting to begin the season with the quiet heartbreak of “what was lost, and what could have been” with tapes explicitly used as time capsules. I really appreciate how this episode was… cruelly poetic? in the way it was shaped through oppositions: Jon and Martin, inside and outside, an observation of past moments and plans for the future.

I was wondering a bit, too, if concretely, we would still remain connected to the Institute somehow (given that circumstances have changed and that Jon&Martin are currently far from it), and yes: most of the episode was recorded moments which happened there, in the Archives, and were deeply grounded in the place (Jon’s unprofessional professional setting, Gertrude trying to make a move against the very essence of the building) so… there is still a deep connection. Everything happened there, had its roots there.

- Big big sense of “Aouch” with the awful irony in their casual exchanges and banter:

(MAG161) ELIAS: And make a wish. ARCHIVIST: If I wish for you all to go away, do you think it’ll work? TIM: He’s so grumpy today, isn’t he Martin? MARTIN: Uh– Oh, well, uh– TIM: [CONSPIRATORY] Do you think it’s his looming sense of mortality? […] So, what did you wish for? [STATIC] ARCHIVIST: I can’t tell you. ELIAS: He wished for a little bit of peace and quiet. […] TIM: Now, alright, alright; fine! Look: I’m turning it off. Any last words for your future selves? ARCHIVIST: Yes. “Fire Tim!” TIM: [LAUGHS] [CLICK.]

… Given that a) Jon lost them and was very conscious of it:

(MAG159) PETER: … Where are your friends, Archivist? [FOOTSTEPS] ARCHIVIST: Tim and Sasha are dead. [FOOTSTEPS] PETER: [DISTORTED] Yes. [FOOTSTEPS] ARCHIVIST: Daisy and Basira are… probably dead. [FOOTSTEPS] PETER: [DISTORTED] Because – of – you. [FOOTSTEPS] ARCHIVIST: Georgie and Melanie have left me. [FOOTSTEPS] PETER: [DISTORTED] And? [FOOTSTEPS] ARCHIVIST: Martin’s gone. [FOOTSTEPS] PETER: [DISTORTED] You’re alone, Archivist. The last one standing. I did warn you, I did want you to leave but… perhaps it would be better if you stayed a while. After all, you can’t hurt anyone in here.

And b) Tim and Jon used to be getting along so well that “Fire Tim!” was understood as a joke, while… the prospect (and impossibility) of quitting due to supernatural binding would become very real and contribute in their official falling-out:

(MAG065) TIM: I– I– I can’t do this anymore! ARCHIVIST: Then quit! If you hate it so much, leave your post in the Archives. Permanently. TIM: You’re firing me? ARCHIVIST: … I’m offering you a chance to quit. No notice period, I’ll even make sure you get the rest of the month’s paycheque. [PAUSE] Just say the words. [STATIC RISES] TIM: I want to. ARCHIVIST: So do it. TIM: I… … can’t. ARCHIVIST: [SOFTLY] Why not…? TIM: I… I… I–I can’t! I don’t know… Why can’t I quit?! ARCHIVIST: I–I don’t know. But I don’t think I can fire you either. TIM: What? ARCHIVIST: It’s this place.

(Yeah, no wonder Martin pointed out that Jon didn’t look super fine listening to the tapes again and again and again, when they’re concentrated Guilt juice.)

- It was… the first time ever… that we heard the original team all together in the same room…

(Plus Elias, technically: so, all the original main characters from season 1.)

It was a gigantic surprise because I had mused about the possibility of hearing a tape from the past, but without Sasha – I would have never expected her VA to come back? And it was so powerful to hear the four of them together, bantering and joking and being… at their natural, since apart from Tim, they didn’t know they were being recorded? And it’s not really putting a new light on Jon’s relationship with his assistants: we’d had glimpses implying that he was in good terms with them, aside from Martin (he trusted Tim to not have pranked him with MAG011’s statement, Sasha had double-checked some of Martin’s research, Sasha could waltz in and discuss with Jon about the pronunciation of “calliope” during a statement, Tim could point out mistakes to Jon and convey a need for him to calm down when Jon was getting too tense and aggressive, and Jon would listen and relent), but to be shown this way was such a precious gift?

(- It’s not the first time Jon was hearing “again” the voice of real!Sasha, since he had listened to her tapes at the end of MAG078 when he found them back… but still, this was even more precious here, because they were at their natural. It was a memory of Sasha! The real Sasha!)

- When did this scene happen? Some bits of the dialogue seemed to imply it was at the beginning of Jon’s tenure, some others make me think it could be towards the end of season 1:

(MAG161) ARCHIVIST: Mm! I’m sure. I notice you didn’t jump out at Martin when he had a birthday. TIM: No, he’s way too jumpy as it is! MARTIN: Wha–?! TIM: We were worried he might damage himself! […] ARCHIVIST: Well, thank you anyway. This is all… very touching. TIM: We just wanted to do something to lighten the mood, you know? ARCHIVIST: Yes, I’m… [INHALE] aware it’s been a rough start. [EXHALE] SASHA: That’s not what this was about; we just thought you could use a chance to unwind. […] ELIAS: He wished for a little bit of peace and quiet. ARCHIVIST: Was it that obvious? ELIAS: Oh, I wouldn’t worry, Jon. It’s an Archive: quiet is very much the course du jour.

“Rough start” and Elias promising quiet sounds like early Archives days… except what Elias says is a blatant lie anyway (he was very aware that the Archives were regularly attacked in Gertrude’s days, as he pointed out in MAG160), and Martin being jumpy could precisely match with Prentiss looming over the Archives:

(MAG033) TIM: It’s getting bad. I mean, Martin keeps showing me his tongue and asking if it “looks infested”.

Biggest thing that makes me lean towards this being set near the end of season 1 is Tim’s teasing about fire in the Archives, which is almost verbatim how Jon had defensively snapped to him about it:

(MAG036) TIM: Er, what is it? ARCHIVIST: A lighter. An old Zippo. TIM: You smoke? ARCHIVIST: No. And I don’t allow ignition sources in my archive!

(MAG161) ARCHIVIST: I… Right– TIM: Yay! ARCHIVIST: –yes, thank you, I do hope you’re not planning to light those candles…! TIM: … Oh, goodness! [SHAKES A BOX OF MATCHES] A source of ignition? In the Archives? ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] SASHA: [CHUCKLES] TIM: Uh oh! ARCHIVIST: Tim.

It wouldn’t make much sense for Jon to snap about the concept of “ignition sources in my Archive” if it had already happened anyway during his birthday? So I’m leaning towards Tim’s quip being a direct reference to MAG036, ergo putting the scene between that episode and MAG038 (the worms attacking), so in mid/end of July 2016? (It would also fit with the idea that they had gone for ice cream for Martin recently.) But yeah, many interpretations could work very well depending on the details you favour, or how you choose to interpret them.

(After MAG036 would also mean… that this scene would be taking place shortly after Jon got The Web’s lighter.)

- I’m EMBARRASSED at Martin being an anxious mess, teased here and there and not really managing to assert himself…………

(MAG161) ARCHIVIST: Mm! I’m sure. I notice you didn’t jump out at Martin when he had a birthday. TIM: No, he’s way too jumpy as it is! MARTIN: Wha–?! TIM: We were worried he might damage himself! MARTIN: Hey! Well… I preferred going out for ice cream anyway. […] TIM: How… did you– … Martin, that was a secret! MARTIN: I didn’t say anything! […] TIM: He’s so grumpy today, isn’t he Martin? MARTIN: Uh– Oh, well, uh– TIM: [CONSPIRATORY] Do you think it’s his looming sense of mortality? MARTIN: Uh– [STUTTERING] I, I don’t th– […] SASHA: Martin? [GLASS POURED] MARTIN: Oh, uh! [NERVOUS CHUCKLE] I mean, I don’t… normally… drink wine, you know, ta–tannins are a proven headache trigger, and so… SASHA: Martin. [GLASS POURED] MARTIN: Oh, u–uh, yeah, sure, maybe, just a… a drop, eh… [RUSTLING OF CLOTHES] ARCHIVIST: You know that there’s a lot of tannin in… tea as well? MARTIN: What? […] TIM: [CHUCKLING] What, are you afraid we’re going to get sued over the “Happy Birthday” song? MARTIN: Oh! Oh, well I am now!

He barely talked during the scene, and it was mostly “Oh, Martin…” bits of sentences… Not super good re:Sasha&Tim insisting for him to drink when he was trying to dodge it, though ;; (What was Martin aiming for, and what did they know about it? Was Martin genuinely worried about headaches, was he trying to avoid alcohol and hiding himself behind the tannin excuse (if so, really not good guys!), or was Martin trying to hide that he wasn’t used to wine, most likely because of his poor upbringing…?)

It really highlighted the difference with present!Martin who… just flat-out refuses, or points out when Jon is going too far. He’s less anxious about speaking his mind, now, not trying to go with the flow even when he’s uneasy with it (and it’s SAD that TIM&SASHA COULDN’T SEE HIM AS HE IS NOW!!).

- … The fact that Tim brought wine in the Archives made the end of season 1 even funnier:

(MAG039) SASHA: I’m still not sure why you have this. Drinking in the archives? MARTIN: What? No, no, it’s for worms. ARCHIVIST: What? MARTIN: For pulling the worms out of people. Like now. SASHA: You, er… what? MARTIN: I used to carry around a knife, but I started thinking that, well, cutting into someone laterally wasn’t really the most efficient way to get them out, and besides which, they seem to be quite slow burrowing in a straight line so, given their size, th–the corkscrew just seemed to be the better option.

Sasha suggesting that Martin could have been Drinking In The Archives, leading to Jon getting offended… while they had a friggin’ birthday party there, complete with Sasha insisting that Martin should drink with them.

- DO YOU THINK THAT MARTIN’S PRECIOUS CORKSCREW… WAS ACTUALLY TIM’S… FROM THAT TIME…

(MAG161) TIM: Well, after the party at least. Wine, anyone? ARCHIVIST: Tim, it’s [CORK POPPING] eleven in the morning. TIM: Pfft! Yeah, at your birthday party! [GLASS POURED] ARCHIVIST: I really don’t think it’s appropriate– ELIAS: I’ll allow it. In fact… I’ll join you.

Heavy sob at the fact that back then, Tim had instigated the drinking inside, and Elias had allowed it… while it became a “Eff You Elias/Beholding/Institute/All the things happening to us” tradition to go out for drinks in the middle of the day, in season 3 and 4, without Tim because he was too depressed (and then researching on the Circus):

(MAG098) MELANIE: Right. Fair. Listen, you really look like you could use a drink. Hum, me and Basira were just about to pop out. So… do you want to join us? MARTIN: It’s like one in the afternoon. MELANIE: Are you afraid of getting fired? MARTIN: … Huh. I’ll get my coat.

(MAG106) BASIRA: Hey, are you ready for that drink? […] You know, speaking of “not cool”, didn’t Martin say he was coming today? […] Well, I should probably go check in with Martin. Y’know, see if he’s in for drinks. MELANIE: So you can double-check your gossip? BASIRA: I don’t gossip! I have the mind of an investigator.

(MAG108) MARTIN: No… no, it’s just [Melanie’s] work’s been… look, she’s always been quite, you know, conscientious, but then recently, everything’s… BASIRA: Okay, look. I don’t know what the situation is, she won’t tell me, but she’s not doing well. We were meant to go for a drink last week, but… I think it has something to do Elias.

(MAG136) DAISY: Now I’m making the choice… to get some drinks in. Coming? ARCHIVIST: I d–… I… [SIGH] … yeah? Okay. DAISY: Melanie’s out, but I’ll go get Basira. ARCHIVIST: Is she… W–will she want to join us? DAISY: If she doesn’t, I’ll rip her throat out. ARCHIVIST: Uh… DAISY: It’s a joke, Jon. ARCHIVIST: … oh. Hahah…! Yes… Uh, I–I’ll get my coat.

(MAG150) MELANIE: If you need me, I’ll be trying to get Daisy drunk. ARCHIVIST: [STATIC] Good luck. It only ever happened once in 2006, she drank a– … Sorry. Didn’t mean to.

Your legacy, Tim…

- I’m so glad about Sasha’s talents as a hacker being put at the front again!! It was implied in season 1 (since she was handling police records, and Jon had noted that her ~computer problems~ prevented them from accessing those in season 2, unless Tim was stepping out with a more, uh, flirty approach), but confirmation AND demonstration that she was using her talents against Jon too!

(MAG161) ELIAS: So. How old is the birthday boy? ARCHIVIST: Uh… thirty-eight. SASHA: [TUTTING] Liar. TIM: [CHUCKLES] ARCHIVIST: How would you know? TIM: What, does someone need to change their password again! ARCHIVIST: I… what? TIM: [LAUGHS] ARCHIVIST: Sasha, have you been going through my computer– SASHA: Definitely not! No idea what he’s talking about. TIM: ‘Course not! SASHA & TIM: [LAUGHS] […] ARCHIVIST: Hang on – have you been recording this? [RUSTLING OF CLOTHES] TIM: Oh, yeah! I… just thought it might be nice, you know, something to look back on when we’re all old and sick of each other…! SASHA: You probably should have told us, Tim. TIM: [CHUCKLING] What, are you afraid we’re going to get sued over the “Happy Birthday” song? MARTIN: Oh! Oh, well I am now! SASHA: It’s… just a bit of a privacy thing. ARCHIVIST: Oh! Hypocrite.

She used to crack Jon’s computer! And he knows it! (That “again”!!! :D) The bantering between “Liar” and “Hypocrite”!! Jon&Sasha were friends!! I love how she liked him and how we can see that… Jon wasn’t exactly their boss – he was mostly a friend that they loved to tease!

(And gods, Sasha pointing out to Tim that his use of the tape recorder wasn’t great privacy-wise… while he would throw the same argument at Jon in season 3:

(MAG114) ARCHIVIST: I listened to all the tapes. I, I had no idea how much of a… a mess I left this place in, I–I–I’m sorry. TIM: Bit of an invasion of privacy. ARCHIVIST: I assume that’s a joke? TIM: [BITTER LAUGH] Isn’t it just?

Sasha… ;_;)

I love how she was Tim’s partner in crimes, too!! He had mentioned that he used to get along with Sasha the most:

(MAG114) TIM: You know how long that thing pretended to be Sasha? ARCHIVIST: Oh god… TIM: And I had no idea? I knew Sasha for years, we… I don’t know Martin as well as I knew her; I barely know what Melanie and Basira look like, or that weird murder-cop.

And yessss, they had the unruly children vibes to them here!

- Re: Tim, I can’t handle how strongly it was shown that he used to treasure Jon? He handled every aspect of the party! He even recorded them all as a memory for their older years:

(MAG161) MARTIN & SASHA & TIM: SURPRISE! [PARTY WHISTLE BLOWING] ARCHIVIST: JESUS! TIM: Happy birthday, boss! […] ELIAS: Anyway. Uh, did somebody mention cake? TIM: Uh, yeah. You did. ELIAS: Yes, I did, didn’t I? [SILENCE] TIM: [SIGH] Alright, alright, well. I guess the cat’s out of the bag now anyway – look… just give me a second. [SHUFFLING] [CUTTLERY CLICKING] TIM: Happy birth– ELIAS & MARTIN & SASHA & TIM: –day to–… […] TIM: … Oh, goodness! [SHAKES A BOX OF MATCHES] A source of ignition? In the Archives? […] Oh? Woops! [A MATCH IS LIT] Sorry; my hand slipped. And again. [CRACKLE OF A BIRTHDAY CANDLE WICK] And again. And… a couple more times, here – I’m so clumsy today; that is a lot of fire! […] Wine, anyone? ARCHIVIST: Tim, it’s [CORK POPPING] eleven in the morning. TIM: Pfft! Yeah, at your birthday party! […] ARCHIVIST: Hang on – have you been recording this? [RUSTLING OF CLOTHES] TIM: Oh, yeah! I… just thought it might be nice, you know, something to look back on when we’re all old and sick of each other…!

He was planning for their friendship to last on the long run!

We had had hints and glimpses that Tim&Jon used to get along very well since they had a good awareness of each other’s limits, and we know that Tim had come to work at the Archives at Jon’s request:

(MAG033) ARCHIVIST: No. I don’t have time. I still have a mountain of haphazard statements to get through, not to mention that I need to keep this wretched tape recorder on hand – just in case I encounter one of the files too stubborn to work on anything else, and when I do, I have to actually– TIM (BACKGROUND): Oh, woah– ARCHIVIST: –read the damn thing, which is… TIM (BACKGROUND): –woah… woah! ARCHIVIST: … Fine. It’s… fine. I just… haven’t been sleeping much these last few months, what with all this… worm… business.

(MAG065) TIM: No. No, you listen for once. I was fine in research, happy. Then you asked me to be transferred here, and suddenly it’s all monsters and killers and secret passages, oh my! And the worst thing? The actual worst thing is that no one here has my back. With any of it! Elias doesn’t care; Martin just wants a tea party; and Sasha… god, and you! You’re treating me like I’m somehow to blame for it all, like I didn’t suffer the worst right alongside you! ARCHIVIST: Well, excuse me if my experiences of th– TIM: Your experiences? Fuck you! I got eaten by worms because of you! ARCHIVIST: Well, what do you want? You want sympathy? TIM: You know what, yeah! A little bit of basic sympathy would have been nice! ARCHIVIST: Jane Prentiss was not my fault, I did not bring her to the Archives! TIM: Oh, but you went off the deep end afterwards, didn’t you? Everything went to hell, and when you actually needed to be in charge, you just hid down here and played with your tape recorder. ARCHIVIST: Well, what would you have me do?! TIM: Anything! Anything that wasn’t turning into a paranoid lunatic would have been fine. Anything that showed you could actually do your job!

… Which makes Jon’s behaviour towards him in season 2 even more heart-breaking and Tim’s bitterness so understandable. Tim had tried to keep up a light atmosphere after Prentiss’s attack (asking Jon if he had trouble with the police, being supportive in his own way when he assumed that Jon was beginning a relationship with Basira). From Tim’s point of view, it wasn’t just that his “boss” was suspecting him of being responsible of Gertrude’s murder and of trying to murder him too: it was a friend thinking Tim was wishing him harm, and turning his back on him on every front. That… might be a harsh reminder for Jon to listen to, in present time.

(- Down to the little detail of Tim playfully calling him “boss”, when… it would turn sour and bitter by the end of season 3:

(MAG161) TIM: Happy birthday, Boss!

(MAG050) TIM: Okay, so, seriously, I don’t get why she keeps coming back round here outside of the investigation. ARCHIVIST: She’s, uh… I’m… I’m helping her with some of the investigation. Off the record. TIM: Oh. OooOOH. Say no more. ARCHIVIST: Tim, wh– what are you… TIM: Don’t worry! I’m cool! Good work, Boss~

(MAG114) ARCHIVIST: Hello Tim. TIM: Oh god… ARCHIVIST: Come in, please. TIM: [SIGH, THEN FAUX POLITE] Good to see you, Boss. How’ve you been? ARCHIVIST: I’m not going to lie to you, Tim. It’s been a difficult few months. TIM: [DEADPAN] Good. […] [SNIDELY] So, what’s the plan, Boss?

(MAG116) ARCHIVIST: Do I need to be worried about you? TIM: You reading my mind again, boss? ARCHIVIST: Watching your face!

(MAG119) ARCHIVIST: Tim!! [STATIC] What do you see? TIM: I see my asshole boss! W– wait… wait…

… At the end of everything, under compulsion, Tim’s honest perception of Jon was “my asshole boss”… and not a friend, anymore.)

- Additional AOUCH of Tim using a tape recorder to capture a fond, funny scene with people he treasured…

(MAG161) ARCHIVIST: Hang on – have you been recording this? [RUSTLING OF CLOTHES] TIM: Oh, yeah! I… just thought it might be nice, you know, something to look back on when we’re all old and sick of each other…!

… while Tim was the one who would grow to hate the tape recorders the most:

(MAG098) MARTIN: Have you seen [Jon] since…? TIM: [GRUNT] Kind of. We tried to talk, but he, he reached for that– Ah, he, he wanted to turn on his recorder. I freaked out a bit, and I said some stuff: if he wanted to talk, no tapes, I just, I just hate that thing.

- GODS about Jon accepting to unwind just to tense up again at Elias’s arrival, trying to be Professional and impressive by aging himself up:

(MAG161) SASHA: That’s not what this was about; we just thought you could use a chance to unwind. ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] I suppose it… couldn’t hurt. [KNOCK–KNOCK] ELIAS: Knock-knock? […] Nothing escapes my notice, and I like to keep an eye out for this sort of thing. TIM: Well, it’s… good to see you. ARCHIVIST: Yes. Ye–yes! [CHAIR SCRAPES] Uh… Come in. ELIAS: So. How old is the birthday boy? ARCHIVIST: Uh… thirty-eight. SASHA: [TUTTING] Liar. […] SASHA & TIM: [LAUGHS] ARCHIVIST: That’s really not appropriate. [SIGH] […] TIM: Wine, anyone? ARCHIVIST: Tim, it’s [CORK POPPING] eleven in the morning. TIM: Pfft! Yeah, at your birthday party! [GLASS POURED] ARCHIVIST: I really don’t think it’s appropriate– ELIAS: I’ll allow it. In fact… I’ll join you. [GLASS POURED] ARCHIVIST: Oh! O… kay, hum… A–al–alright then.

(So Jon, who “was 8 in 1995 or 1996”, aged himself up by around ten years, and was actually turning 28 or 29, uh. Jon Being A Retro Thing confirmed, down to liking rum-raisin, rip Martin “likes things with low-fi charm” Blackwood.)

(Additional thing about Jon infodumping about emulsifiers to Martin: emulsifiers are used to mix together two elements of different nature… like… them…)

- A bit intrigued by Jon not remembering going out for ice cream for Martin’s birthday:

(MAG161) ARCHIVIST: Mm! I’m sure. I notice you didn’t jump out at Martin when he had a birthday. TIM: No, he’s way too jumpy as it is! MARTIN: Wha–?! TIM: We were worried he might damage himself! MARTIN: Hey! Well… I preferred going out for ice cream anyway. ARCHIVIST: You went for ice cream…? SASHA: Yes, you were there…! MARTIN: You had rum-and-raisin and taught us all about emulsifiers. ARCHIVIST: … Oh. … Right, yes, I–I remember. TIM: Liar.

(Martin remembers it all, and that’s incredibly gay of him.)

Is it that Jon hadn’t picked up on the fact that they were actually celebrating Martin’s birthday back then? Or is it that Jon has a tendency to forget unpleasant memories – he… didn’t do much social and liked his quiet, that part wasn’t a front, and he had, for example, forgotten his childhood bully’s name, too… Or is it a genuinely strange memory loss and is there something more sinister behind it?

- They credited Ben as “Jonah Magnus”, and yet we had never heard him at this level of… comedic villain? Almost like a parody? He was punning SO HARD and sounded like an impulsive idiot, it was a delight:

(MAG161) ELIAS: Knock-knock? TIM: Double-Boss! SASHA: Elias? ELIAS: I’m not too late for cake, am I? ARCHIVIST: There’s a cake…? TIM: How… did you– … Martin, that was a secret! MARTIN: I didn’t say anything! ELIAS: He didn’t have to. Nothing escapes my notice, and I like to keep an eye out for this sort of thing. […] Anyway. Uh, did somebody mention cake? TIM: Uh, yeah. You did. ELIAS: Yes, I did, didn’t I? [SILENCE] TIM: [SIGH] Alright, alright, well. I guess the cat’s out of the bag now anyway – look… just give me a second. […] So, what did you wish for? [STATIC] ARCHIVIST: I can’t tell you. ELIAS: He wished for a little bit of peace and quiet. […] TIM: Happy birth– ELIAS & MARTIN & SASHA & TIM: –day to–… ARCHIVIST: Oh, okay… ELIAS & MARTIN & SASHA & TIM: –you… ARCHIVIST: Mm–mm. ELIAS & MARTIN & SASHA & TIM: Happy birthday to you… ARCHIVIST: Right! ELIAS & MARTIN & SASHA & TIM: Happy birth– ARCHIVIST: Yes…! ELIAS & MARTIN & SASHA & TIM: –day, dear– MARTIN & SASHA & TIM: –Jo~on… ELIAS: –A~rchivist… ELIAS & MARTIN & SASHA & TIM: Happy birthday to you! […] TIM: Wine, anyone? ARCHIVIST: Tim, it’s [CORK POPPING] eleven in the morning. TIM: Pfft! Yeah, at your birthday party! [GLASS POURED] ARCHIVIST: I really don’t think it’s appropriate– ELIAS: I’ll allow it. In fact… I’ll join you.

1°) Elias invited himself for cake and wine, but mostly cake. That INSISTANCE about the cake was pure gold, Melanie should have poisoned one of those instead of his coffee and the idiot would probably have fallen for it.

2°) The gratuitous use of his powers just to Be Smug about ~understanding~ what Jon was wishing for, ELIAS WHY.

3°) The Eye puns, you’re cancelled and forbidden sir (“I like to keep an eye out”).

4°) I just can’t fucking believe the not even sneaky “Archivist” during the birthday song, the question is mostly HOW they didn’t pick up on Elias being a supernatural agent before the end of season 2 if he was at his shittiest like that all the time.

(Tim’s “Double-Boss!” gets a free pass because yeah, two bosses in the same room, and he had mentioned the “getting two spooky bosses” thing in season 3… But dang right about Elias being “double” by himself because Jonah-Elias.)

- I’m not 100% sure of that moment but:

(MAG161) TIM: … Oh, goodness! [SHAKES A BOX OF MATCHES] A source of ignition? In the Archives? ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] SASHA: [CHUCKLES] TIM: Uh oh! ARCHIVIST: Tim. ELIAS?: [SIGH] TIM: Oh? Woops! [A MATCH IS LIT] Sorry; my hand slipped. ELIAS?: [HISS] TIM: And again. [CRACKLE OF A BIRTHDAY CANDLE WICK] And again. And… a couple more times, here – I’m so clumsy today; that is a lot of fire!

I think it was Elias hissing, and not Jon groaning.

Which, you know.

Tim, using fire in the Archives and teasing about it.

Someone was having bad flashbacks of Gertrude pouring petrol all over.

- Second tape, “what could have been”: both because it opened a shift in perspective (what if Sasha had been chosen as Head Archivist instead?), and the prospect of a smoother transition from Gertrude to the next Archivist, a version of events in which they would have been warned plenty:

(MAG160, Jonah Magnus) “Of course, I had to bide my time, get a measure of you before I began to push; learn how you worked. So I decided I would wait until something came for you, and see how you reacted. Attacks upon the Archives were not uncommon during Gertrude’s tenure, and while she was always prepared… I made sure you would not be.”

(MAG161) GERTRUDE: … Right. If you’re listening to this, then it is likely that… [INHALE] No; let’s not beat around the bush. If you’re listening to this, it means I’m dead. And you have been chosen to be my replacement, as Head Archivist.

And at the same time, would Jon have believed any of it? If Gertrude had mentioned The Web, probably; but… given that Gertrude was shown collaborating with Leitner afterwards (although the recording of their exchange was an accident), it could also have backfired spectacularly instead. Would Jon have believed an old woman in cahoots with Jurgen Leitner to be trustworthy, when a book from his library had wrecked Jon in his childhood?

- The concept of Sasha as a potential next Archivist was a gigantic surprise, and yet! And yet! It fits! It makes sense!

* One of her passions was literally watching people, heyo little Beholding:

(MAG026) SASHA: It was the day before yesterday when I first saw it. When I’m heading down the stairs in the morning, I sometime like to spend a few seconds looking out of the window at the people on the street below. I’ll move my head so that I see them through the warped glass, and they’ll distort like a funhouse mirror. It’s a bit daft, but I have a pretty dreary commute down to Victoria, so I take my fun where I can get it. Well, on that morning I paused before the window, and noticed one of the warped figures below was… off, slightly.

* SOB over the fact that… Sasha was the first to point out that they should quit, and that she didn’t really want to:

(MAG026) SASHA: I should really quit, you know. We, we all should. I don’t think this a normal job. I, I don’t think this is a safe job. ARCHIVIST: You’re probably right. Do you want to quit? SASHA: No. I’m just… I’m just too damned curious, I suppose. You? ARCHIVIST: No. Whatever’s going on, I… need to know. Get some rest.

Martin confessed that he had thought about it in MAG039, Tim tried in MAG065… but she had been the first, and Gertrude was precisely inviting her successor to try! ;_;

* BIG BIG SOB because… she was the first one to point out that Elias was quite the dodgy sort:

(MAG039) SASHA: … Did I ever tell you I first joined the Institute as a practical researcher? I had to analyse and investigate all the stuff in here. Take notes after sleeping in the rusted chair, write in the memory book, all that sort of thing. I transferred after three months. Would’ve quit, but couldn’t afford to back then. Never understood why they keep this stuff secret. I mean, we’ve, we’ve enough here to send any sceptic packing, but it’s just locked away. I… I asked Elias about it once, but he just muttered something about funding and mission statements. He’s good at changing the subject, isn’t he?

* Martin was mostly a victim of Prentiss; Sasha took risks by accepting Michael’s offer (to protect the others), actively and knowingly pursued danger, leading her to discover their most reliable weapon against Prentiss’s worms: the fire extinguishers. Technically, she got in contact with two entities (Spiral+Corruption) in one go? She could have gotten marked so fast? In fact, she concentrated most aspects you could expect from a typical protagonist: she was curious, bold, followed Michael, annihilated Timothy Hodge’s swarm of worms, was the first one of the team to get physically hurt (a worm had gone through her shoulder); she took care of removing Jon’s worms in MAG039, barged out to save Tim, went to Elias for help…

(MAG039) MARTIN: And… there we go. Recording again. Did you get it? [PAINED CRY FROM ARCHIVIST AS SASHA EXTRACTS WORM WITH A SQUELCH] SASHA: There. And I just want to point out that I didn’t make this much of a fuss. ARCHIVIST: [BREATHING HEAVILY, AGGRIEVED TONE] I think your removal was substantially cleaner. […] ARCHIVIST: [MUTTERING] There’s nothing we can do. SASHA: Ah, screw this. ARCHIVIST: What, Sasha, NO! [DOOR OPENS] SASHA: Tim, look out! […] MARTIN: Ah, yeah. Sure. So, um, Sasha tackled Tim and there was kind of a struggle, but she made it out of the Archives. That, that was about two minutes ago and she’s gone to get help. P–probably. I mean, she, she couldn’t… she wouldn’t just run so…

While you could remove Jon from the season 1 climax and barely anything would have changed, since he simply watched and recorded and followed others. Which, at the same time, made Jon good as an Archivist/record(er) of Fears, but…

* (Aouch that Sasha, who was meant to be Gertrude’s replacement, was the first one to meet Michael…)

- At the same time: how come Gertrude was expecting Sasha to become her replacement?

(MAG161) GERTRUDE: … Right. If you’re listening to this, then it is likely that… [INHALE] No; let’s not beat around the bush. If you’re listening to this, it means I’m dead. And you have been chosen to be my replacement, as Head Archivist. Hopefully, this means you, Sasha – but if someone else is hearing this and Elias has made a different choice, for some reason, then these words are still very much intended for you. […] If it is you I’m talking to, Sasha, hopefully your background in Artefact Storage will lend a certain degree of… credence to my words. But others may have to take it on trust. All I can do is assure you I am deadly serious.

* SNORT that Gertrude stole a page from Gerry’s book (badum) with the “dead(ly) serious”.

* … With the reminder that Sasha had worked in Artefact Storage: is that a Requirement for Jonah in a way, a place where he usually picks up people from? Elias Bouchard had begun working in Artefact Storage in 1991, and he ended up as his next host…

* I can see multiple possibilities: Gertrude saw a bit of her younger self in Sasha (MAG145: “I was very new to it all, of course. I mean, I was, what? Can’t have been older than… twenty-five. Would you believe that you were the first proper ritual attempt I’d encountered? Eh! I really thought you were unique, special, an infernal cult raising their demon Messiah to bring about hell on Earth…! Eh, you can imagine all the heroic fantasies that that played into. So: I began researching what I thought was a counter-ritual of sorts. Like I said, mm, I was young. Naïve.”), and assumed that Elias would go with continuity and pick someone like her; Gertrude was perceiving Sasha as the most competent of the staff, and assumed she would be the best candidate (totally missing that Elias was searching for someone who wouldn’t be ready); Elias purposefully gave misleading signals to let Gertrude assume that he was taking an interest in Sasha as Archivist potential; or… Elias was genuinely planning to pick Sasha, and had a change of heart.

* If it was that last point: it’s ~very strange~ that in the end, Elias wouldn’t pick Sasha, who was supposed to become the next Head Archivist, and picked, instead, Jon, who was Web-touched. ~Very strange~. Was the new Head Archivist truly Elias’s choice, or The Web’s, huh…

- Damnit, no name for James Wright’s predecessor even though it could have been the occasion:

(MAG161) GERTRUDE: … Oh, yes. On the subject of Elias: trust nothing he says. He was originally known as Jonah Magnus, the founder of this Institute, and I have known him also as James Wright, the previous Head of the Institute.

“James Wright” became head in 1973 according to MAG049, and Gertrude had been working at the Institute for around fifty years, so she must have known Jonah’s previous iteration as well. Unless Jonah genuinely lived as a filing clerk for a few years while in control of James Wright? (MAG029: “Elias was working as a filing clerk at the time [1972]”) I… have trouble picturing him agreeing to let go of his seat and allowing someone else to run the place, even for a few years.

- New Cool Name for The Eye!

(MAG161) GERTRUDE: You – unfortunately – have unwittingly made the decision to become one of those incarnations, for the Institute serves a being known variously as “The Eye”, “It-Knows-You”, “The Beholding”, “The Ceaseless Watcher”.

(No wonder they didn’t get along well with The Stranger, since its cool name was “I-Do-Not-Know-You” according to MAG087 and MAG101.)

- … Amongst the things Gertrude didn’t share, it’s interesting to compare what she told “Sasha” and what she told Elias a few minutes later (?), in their exchange from MAG158’s tape:

* Nothing about the Panopticon hidden in the tunnels and Jonah’s body being down there, even though she had understood all about it:

(MAG158) ELIAS: What exactly were you hoping to achieve here? Why not come at me directly instead of burning everything first? GERTRUDE: I was rather hoping the fire would occupy you while I did just that. ELIAS: I see…! How long have you known? GERTRUDE: About your body? Not long after you took your new host and we had that little… chat. Wasn’t exactly a huge leap to the Panopticon after that. The hard part was figuring out how to actually reach it. Took me the better part of a decade. ELIAS: So you burn the place down, use it as cover to reach my body, and then we die together.

It would have taken her successor so long to understand that the Panopticon was still standing, and hidden down there, even if the MAG161 tape had reached them…

* Gertrude didn’t share that there is one way to escape the Institute/Elias’s clutch: gouging your eyes out. At this point, she had known for years:

(MAG161) GERTRUDE: You will also be unable to relinquish the position, or quit the Institute, finding you are supernaturally compelled to remain. In fact… it occurs to me that attempting to do so is probably the quickest and easiest way to establish the truth of what I am telling you – so I suggest you do so at the earliest possible opportunity.

(MAG158) GERTRUDE: I wasn’t actually planning on dying. ELIAS: And how exactly were you planning on achieving that while you’re still bound to the… ha. Oh, I see. Very clever. [CHUCKLE] I thought Eric was the only one to figure that little morsel out. GERTRUDE: Knowledge has a way of surviving. You, of all people, should know that.

… and yet didn’t tell Sasha/her successor in her official testament tape. Gertrude…

* No breakdown of the entities à la Gerry, which could have been a useful tool at first: Gertrude didn’t mention leaving notes to explain them, or even… Gerry’s page in America, which could have done the trick.

* Gertrude… wasn’t straightforward about her suspicion that the rituals were doomed to fail:

(MAG161) GERTRUDE: These… beings, these… gods of fear, their followers believe that they have… rituals. Grand projects, which, if successful, would allow them to enter our world, reshaping it in… [EXHALE] unthinkable ways; moulding it into a dimension where terror is as natural as… gravity. You… are now one such ritual. I do not know the exact details of it, but be wary of whatever Elias asks you to do. […] You are entering a new world, a place I’ve lived for most of my life. A place… [SIGH] A place that will often demand a high price from you. Pay it without hesitation, because one way or another, the world is now on your shoulders. [SIGH] I wish I had more time to explain it to you; but time is short, and hopefully my actions tonight will ensure this tape never needs to see the light of day. But if you are hearing it, then… good luck. Do what you have to do.

“their followers believe” does imply that it’s not a clear-cut objective truth… but she was still warning Sasha of the danger she would pose as a potential ritual, and setting her up to stop rituals, instead of telling her to not fret too much about them. Bit of pride on Gertrude’s part, since she had dedicated most of her life to stop them and didn’t want to admit that the prices “she” had paid were senseless sacrifices in the end…? (It was sad re: her regrets, but also… “Very Gertrude”: Jan and Michael Shelley, for example, had paid most of the “high price” she mentioned.) It kind of feels like Gertrude was really trying to preserve her legacy a bit, even though she knew, at this point, that she had been wrong…

- Not sure if it will be relevant, but Gertrude was convinced that Jonah used eyes to spy on people:

(MAG054) ARCHIVIST: Oh. And… I looked through a handful of books on her shelf. They were very well taken care of – with the exception that… any time a person’s face was featured on the cover, their eyes had been cut out, and very carefully removed.

(MAG113) ARCHIVIST: Found anything yet? MARTIN: Er… er… Bunch of… eyeless paintings? MELANIE: [JOVIALLY] Snap! Eyeless dolls.

(MAG154) ERIC: You were almost there, you know, with your theory that James could watch us through any eye, even an illustration. So what did you do? How did you sever that link? GERTRUDE: … My… God!

(MAG161) GERTRUDE: He was originally known as Jonah Magnus, the founder of this Institute, and I have known him also as James Wright, the previous Head of the Institute. He has certain… abilities of clairvoyance, which allow him to perceive out of any eye – real, or symbolic – so be wary.

And that’s not exactly how Jonah himself described his powers?

(MAG160, Jonah Magnus) “But it left me a gift: for sat in that watchtower, I could see… everything I turned my mind to.”

So I don’t know if it was a bit of pride from Jonah (not pointing out that there is One Weakness in his power: if no eye around, his powers are shit), or Gertrude operating off an assumption that wasn’t exactly the truth.

- Really curious as to how Gertrude came to the conclusion that an Archivist was a potential “ritual” by itself:

(MAG161) GERTRUDE: There are now things that will actively be trying to kill you, due to your new role as Archivist; and… Elias has plans for you that are little better. […] You – unfortunately – have unwittingly made the decision to become one of those incarnations […]. But, there… is another part of being the Archivist. These… beings, these… gods of fear, their followers believe that they have… rituals. Grand projects, which, if successful, would allow them to enter our world, reshaping it in… [EXHALE] unthinkable ways; moulding it into a dimension where terror is as natural as… gravity. You… are now one such ritual. I do not know the exact details of it, but be wary of whatever Elias asks you to do.

Was it because of her experience with Agnes, since Agnes was precisely conceived as an “incarnation” and the central piece of The Desolation’s ritual? Was it a deduction coming from Elias’s behaviour towards her (if he wasn’t trying to get rid of Gertrude so far, then it meant that her function was necessary outside of her consent or the path she had chosen)? Or did she manage to do historical research in old Archives like Jonah had done…?

- Still unclear whether or not Gertrude had a back-up plan for The Dark (as Elias suspected in MAG160) or a guess as to how to undo a ritual if she had been wrong and it were to succeed:

(MAG161) GERTRUDE: If my guess is right, the Church’s ritual should be collapsing at any time now, so… immediately. LEITNER: And if you’re wrong? GERTRUDE: Then a bit of gas will be the least of our worries.

We’ll see if there is something on that front, I guess.

- AHAHA that we got a confirmation that THIS is what Gertrude had been doing!

(MAG001) ARCHIVIST: Combine that with the fact that most of the Institute prefers the ivory tower of pure academia to the complicated work of dealing with statements or recent experiences and you have the recipe for an impeccably organised library and an absolute mess of an archive. This isn’t necessarily a problem – modern filing and indexing systems are a real wonder, and all it would need is a half-decent archivist to keep it in order. Gertrude Robinson was apparently not that archivist. From where I am sitting, I can see thousands of files. Many spread loosely around the place, others crushed into unmarked boxes. A few have dates on them or helpful labels such as 86-91 G/H. Not only that, but most of these appear to be handwritten or produced on a typewriter with no accompanying digital or audio versions of any sort. […] It is going to take me a long, long time to organise this mess.

(MAG161) GERTRUDE: I’ve managed to keep the Archives in a state of chaos for decades, as I believe his plan would benefit from their organisation. But I leave that to your judgement. Certainly, the longer he is ignorant of how much you know… the better.

So the disorganisation was absolutely on purpose, as suspected, which makes Jon’s hissing about Gertrude in season 1 all the funnier… and at the same time: it doesn’t feel like the mess put a dent in Elias’s plans at all in the end – since he didn’t really need an organised Archives for his plans, but a marked and powerful Archivist/Archive? (And Beholding, in itself, has nothing to do with understanding: “You who watch and know and understand none”.)

What it might have done, though, is (let’s hope!) make Elias twitchy on a very human and personal level, since we knew that he had habits and regularity:

(MAG098) MELANIE: Uh, Martin, have you seen Elias? MARTIN: Oh, uh… No, but Tuesday lunch he normally meets with the Library staff, I think.

(MAG103) ARCHIVIST: […] and it’s Wednesday afternoon, when he does his scheduling. So I’m… hoping he’s distracted. … He, uh… He loves scheduling. DAISY: … Rrrright.

So I hope the state of the Archives still made him deeply uncomfortable.

- It was the first time that Gertrude and Leitner were heard interacting together on the same tape! (… Unknowing aside; though that time, it was their corpses, not… really them.)

- Unclear if Leitner knew about “Elias” being Jonah Magnus, in the end! He knew why Gertrude had been recording, but did he hear the content? If he knew about Jonah, he really really should have told Jon when he explained that Elias was a Beholding agent in MAG080… (But since when does Jurgen Leitner make sensible decisions.)

- The first time was full of dark irony, but oooooh, Leitner…

(MAG161) LEITNER: Then you recording all that was meaningless anyway. Besides, I’m not afraid of him. GERTRUDE: Bravado? [CHUCKLES] Really? LEITNER: Hm–mm… It’s not bravado… GERTRUDE: [SHARPLY] We’re wasting time. Do you still have the Ruskin book? LEITNER: I do. Though I don’t relish the thought of using it. Makes it rather hard to breathe, like your chest– GERTRUDE: You know– LEITNER: –is being… GERTRUDE: –the gas main, little way out in the tunnel? LEITNER: I do. GERTRUDE: I need you to move it. LEITNER: I, hum… That’s… I mean, that’s not just earth, there’s pipework and all sorts of–

As Melanie would say: “Famous last words” (it’s ~not bravado~ when he said he wasn’t afraid of Elias, and Leitner complaining about pipework of all things…).

I love that he was complaining about the use of The Seven Lamps of Architecture, when Gertrude was currently trying to neutralise Elias and prevent his plans – he was using it quite easily in season 2, so… wasn’t that bad? And yet, he found ways to complain about it. Leitner, please.

- Amongst the new information casually thrown at us:

(MAG161) LEITNER: Right. … Did you mean to leave the tape running? GERTRUDE: Oh, good grief! Forty years I’ve been using them, and I swear, I’ll ne– [CLICK.]

Gertrude had been using them for 40 years at this point. The oldest recording we heard from her was from 1996 (MAG077), about the Not!Them, and she had noted that cassettes seemed to be spared by its effects – so I had assumed that she may have begun to record because of this, for 20 years? But apparently, no, she had started much earlier than that.

* Back to Jon’s first questions about her tapes: why are there so few, then, if she had been recording for so long? Why did she record certain statements and not others? (Was it mostly the statements about rituals or related?)

* So, “forty years” means that she began recording around 1975 => she didn’t begin to record as soon as she became Archivist, since on the same day she said that in front of Leitner, she had been in the position for roughly fifty years (Elias in MAG158: “I suppose we both got a little complacent. Fifty years is a long time! ‘End of an era’.”). It matches with the history of actual tape recorders, though they had begun to be more popular towards the end of the 60s… but curiously, “forty years ago” in 2015 also means… that Gertrude began to use a tape recorder around the time Hill Top Road burned (1974) and The Web tricked her into binding herself to Agnes. Mm-mmmmmmmmmm…

- Anyway, GERTRUDE X AGNES RIGHTS.

(MAG161) GERTRUDE: Paper burns well. [GURGLING LIQUID] Petrol burns… better. LEITNER: Aha! I always forget about your pyromaniac streak. GERTRUDE: Mm. Remind me to tell you about Agnes, sometime…!

Gertrude sounded almost fond (or at least playful) when mentioning her? It really seems to confirm that Gertrude&Agnes getting tied by the The Web’s ritual affected both: Agnes loved observing people, fire became Gertrude’s main weapon; The Lightless Flame avoided hurting Gertrude afterwards, and Gertrude extended her protection to Jack Barnabas. I wonder if we’ll get more about Agnes&Gertrude and/or if they had been in contact…

(Also, “remind me to tell you about x sometime” is some death flag, Gertrude…)

- OKAY, TAPE RECORDERS TIME (and insert here the usual “one day, I’ll finish&post that draft from 2018 about them”).

* I’m a bit surprised that there was no double-click at the beginning nor at the end of the first tape: it’s usually either a succession of tapes (the usual when Jon listens to Gertrude’s: it clicks off, then his own recording clicks on for him to give commentaries, so double-click after the first tape for the click-off / click-on), either a recording inside of a current recording (rarer: for example, Jon listening to the real Sasha’s tapes near the end of season 2, or to Daisy’s statement before going inside the Coffin). No double-click for the assistants tape, although the delimitations were clearer with Gertrude&Leitner’s as framed inside of Jon&Martin’s scene in the cabin:

(MAG161) [CLICK–] [RUSTLING OF CLOTHES] MARTIN: Careful! […] TIM: Now, alright, alright; fine! Look: I’m turning it off. Any last words for your future selves? ARCHIVIST: Yes. “Fire Tim!” TIM: [LAUGHS] [CLICK.] [APOCALYPSE SOUNDSCAPING] ARCHIVIST: [SLOW BREATHING] […] MARTIN: You, uh… listening to the tapes again? [RUSTLING OF CLOTHES] How many times is that, now? [WOODEN CREAKING SOUND] ARCHIVIST: They were sent to me, Martin. […] Just… [A TAPE IS LOADED] Listen. [CLICK–] [RUSTLING OF CLOTHES] GERTRUDE: … Right. […] Oh, good grief! Forty years I’ve been using them, and I swear, I’ll ne– [CLICK.] [APOCALYPSE SOUNDSCAPING] ARCHIVIST: Can you imagine…? If we’d had this… […] No it’s not. [CLICK.]

Which means that it was prrrobably the same thing as with the beginning of MAG157 (which begins with Jon listening to Martin&Peter’s exchange from the previous episode): the tape recorder “observing” Jon listening clicked on for itself after the one playing the assistants’ tape, when it had already been running for a bit. Which means that there was actually more assistants content on that tape than what we heard! We’ve been robbed! Screw you, MAG161’s Visiting Tape Recorder, you could have clicked on sooner!!

* Big usual questions of “who is listening through the tape recorders and/or what is the thing pushing them to click on and off”! Interestingly, both of the tapes Jon was listening to made it clear that a person had chosen to start recording…

(MAG161) ARCHIVIST: Hang on – have you been recording this? TIM: Oh, yeah! I… just thought it might be nice, you know, something to look back on when we’re all old and sick of each other…! SASHA: You probably should have told us, Tim. TIM: [CHUCKLING] What, are you afraid we’re going to get sued over the “Happy Birthday” song? MARTIN: Oh! Oh, well I am now! SASHA: It’s… just a bit of a privacy thing. ARCHIVIST: Oh! Hypocrite. TIM: Now, alright, alright; fine! Look: I’m turning it off. Any last words for your future selves?

(MAG161) GERTRUDE: … Right. If you’re listening to this, then it is likely that… [INHALE] No; let’s not beat around the bush. If you’re listening to this, it means I’m dead. […] LEITNER: Right. … Did you mean to leave the tape running? GERTRUDE: Oh, good grief! Forty years I’ve been using them, and I swear, I’ll ne– [CLICK.]

… Only to highlight, both in the trailer and in the first episode of the season, that the tape recorders manifesting or “choosing” to record Jon were doing that on their own, without him being actively responsible for it:

(Season 5 trailer) ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] … What? What do you want? … The world is…! It’s over. You’ve won. What can you possibly still need to hear?

(MAG161) MARTIN: Hey – when, when did you start recording? [WOODEN CREAKING SOUND] ARCHIVIST: I… didn’t. MARTIN: [TENSE EXHALE] ARCHIVIST: I only brought one, and I’ve been using it to play the tapes. MARTIN: Oh. [INHALE] That’s not a great sign. ARCHIVIST: No… No it’s not. [CLICK.]

So: they’re still a Mystery, but we’re probably getting an answer about them soon-ish (at least by the end of the season) if there is such an insistence on it.

* My Big suspect is still The Web, though I’m less sure after season 4 (too many things seem to point in The Web’s direction, so is that a red herring…?).

… Towards the beginning of season 4, I had joked a bit that, what if it was Gertrude or Sasha?, and I’m considering it a bit more nowadays, especially with the insistence on Sasha to start the season with: Sasha as Jon’s assistant (complete with the reminder that her forte was with computers; “Binary” explained quite clearly that tape recorders are digital, too, and had a whole story about someone stuck in an artefact not made to contain and process a human psyche), and Sasha as a potential Archivist in a what-could-have-been scenario (so, Sasha as a Beholding candidate). Leitner had also pointed out that he didn’t know what happens to the Not!Them’s victims, and that one should assume them to be dead:

(MAG080) ARCHIVIST: And Sasha… The real one? LEITNER: Was that her name? I’m afraid she’s gone. Whatever it does to those it takes, they don’t come back. She’s dead. Do you need a moment?

… which wasn’t a definite and absolute “the Not!Them kills its victims and that’s it”. So… Sasha as a floating conscience recovering more and more autonomy when the Not!Them got temporarily sealed in the tunnels? Tape recorders began to manifest autonomy in season 3, though MAG080 was a weird case already (two were running until Elias’s entrance), and the first highlighted case of a tape recorder refusing to stay off… was to listen to Tim in MAG082 as he was interviewed by Daisy (so in potential danger), then to Tim&Martin at the end of the episode… and once again to Tim at the beginning of MAG090 (when he had come back from Malaysia and was paid a visit by Elias). Martin was mostly recording on his own accord, Jon sounded in control of his recordings at this point too… MAG161 made it casually clear that Tim&Sasha were getting along extremely well, which Tim had already acknowledged (MAG114: “I knew Sasha for years, we… I don’t know Martin as well as I knew her”), and we saw Sasha getting very protective of him when she hurried out to save him in MAG039… It would make sense that the Supernatural Tape Recorders would favour him of all people, at first, if she was behind them… (But then, it would break my heart into little pieces, given Tim’s distaste of the tape recorders, him spitting that he did “hate that thing” and hiding himself in the second half of season 3 partially in order to avoid them T___T)

Potential counterpoint, though, for both Gertrude and Sasha: the recording of Gertrude’s death(? MAG087 still doesn’t make sense if she was killed-killed back then!!) in MAG158 began while Gertrude was already pouring petrol all over the Archives, implying that she hadn’t been the one clicking it on – so it might have been started… another way, and could be our first chronological example of an “autonomous” tape recorder.

* “Who is listening in through the tape recorders?” is not fundamentally the same as “Who is using them to provide information to characters in-universe?”; so “who sent MAG161’s tapes back in MAG160?” is another question, a bit more concrete, especially since Jon and Martin mused about it:

(MAG160) ARCHIVIST: There’s… tapes in here, as well. D… did she say anything about tapes? MARTIN: She… didn’t mention it? But… I–I didn’t check it until after the call. ARCHIVIST: Mm.

(MAG161) MARTIN: You, uh… listening to the tapes again? [RUSTLING OF CLOTHES] How many times is that, now? [WOODEN CREAKING SOUND] ARCHIVIST: They were sent to me, Martin. [RUSTLING OF CLOTHES] There’s got to be some reason… MARTIN: [SIGH] Gloating, Jon. [CREAKING SOUND] Elias won, and there were some tapes he’d kept for himself, and he wanted to gloat. So, he sent them!

Gertrude’s tape is interesting, because Elias can’t have heard the content of it in any way before the end of season 2, since we hear Leitner on it and, more compromisingly, the mention that he’s been navigating the tunnels. Elias kept insisting that Leitner had been a surprise to him:

(MAG080) ELIAS: Well. This is a surprise. […] I’ve wondered for so long who it could be down there. Who was helping her. I honestly never would have guessed. LEITNER: How did you know I was here? ELIAS: I didn’t. You’re very well hidden. But Jon is not, and he failed to take the same precautions I’m sure you took for granted with Gertrude. I knew he was talking to someone. And it turns out to be Jurgen Leitner himself. [SOFT CHUCKLING] What an honour.

(MAG092) ELIAS: So. For the avoidance of any doubt. I killed Gertrude Robinson because she intended to destroy the Archives. And I killed Jurgen Leitner because he was… an unnecessary complication. Likely to tell Jon too much, too early.

(MAG102) ELIAS: I have been trying to give you the information you need. ARCHIVIST: Sure, when you’re not bashing its head in with a pipe. ELIAS: Leitner was… I will admit I possibly… overreacted to his sudden re-emergence.

(MAG160, Jonah Magnus) “Jurgen Leitner was a surprise, of course, and I was forced to… improvise. I had no idea how much Gertrude would have told him, and he could very easily have derailed everything if you learned too much too fast. I… justified it to myself, saying I was going to have to send you out into the world anyway if you were to encounter more of the Powers, but I can’t honestly pretend it wasn’t a… rather rash move.”

(MAG161) GERTRUDE: Jurgen! [RUSTLING OF CLOTHES] I told you to stay in the tunnels. [CHAIR SCRAPES] LEITNER: Your message also told me it was urgent. GERTRUDE: If Elias is watching right now…! LEITNER: Then you recording all that was meaningless anyway. […] GERTRUDE: You know the gas main, little way out in the tunnel? LEITNER: I do. GERTRUDE: I need you to move it.

Which means that Elias hadn’t listened to this tape in particular before the end of season 2. Where did Gertrude store/hide it and what happened to it afterwards? There is a possibility that it was just dumped in with Gertrude’s other tapes (I… don’t think that Elias had listened to them all anyway?) and it was passed from hand to hand since the end of season 1… to finally get back into Elias’s after Leitner’s murder:

(MAG040) MARTIN: When I finally found a door, I thought it might actually get out, but instead… It was a small room. Square. There was dust on everything. Cardboard boxes were piled around. They were full of old cassette tapes.

(MAG043) BASIRA: I’ve got a shot corpse, three boxes of cassettes, and Daisy, who’s the CID now, which… I suppose means it’s technically her problem, but… she’s now the only detective who’s already sectioned, so she’s always way too busy. As far as I know, neither of us have even had a chance to actually start listening to the tapes. […] ARCHIVIST: I have convinced Basira to give me access to the tapes. It won’t be many, or often, as they are currently police evidence and thus hard to subtly remove, and she can’t necessarily guarantee the ones I get will be the most pertinent to the case, but it is still a significant victory.

(MAG075) BASIRA: Here. [BOX HITTING A TABLE] ARCHIVIST: Are those the tapes? BASIRA: As many of them as I could get. […] Well they’re sure as hell not going to solve Gertrude’s murder, so you might as well have them. Before… I don’t know, maybe I still had enough police in me not to just steal from Evidence, but now…

(MAG116) ELIAS: During the… “difficulties”… ARCHIVIST: [AGGRAVATED SIGH] ELIAS: … with your initial absence, Jon, I took Gertrude’s tapes into my safekeeping. ARCHIVIST: Yes, I thought as much.

(MAG137) ARCHIVIST: [LONG SIGH] So. Funny story. Turns out when Daisy broke the lock to get into Elias’s old office, well, she did a good enough job that it’s not… obviously broken. So it hasn’t been replaced yet. So I had a look around. [SIGH] M–mostly as I remember, but… There’s a box of tapes and statements in the corner. Obviously those Elias either didn’t feel he could trust me with yet, or maybe just the ones he was checking himself.

(MAG154) ARCHIVIST: I’ve found a– [SIGH] I went back to Eli– er, Peter’s office. To that box of tapes; started rifling through. And I started to try and pay attention to the ones I… wasn’t drawn to. The tapes I instinctively wanted to discard.

So Gertrude&Leitner’s tape could technically have been amongst those – Elias probably wouldn’t have left Eric’s so easily accessible if he’d known about the content (“How to cut ties with Beholding and escape the Institute for dummies”), so he probably hadn’t listened to all of them by the time of his arrest in MAG120… so he could technically be the sender here, there is nothing in the canon invalidating that he couldn’t have had access to this tape given what we know of the journey of Gertrude’s boxes of tapes.

Regarding the assistants tape, Tim was explicitly the one recording the scene. So either Tim had forgotten about it… either someone/thing stole it by the time of season 2, since it contains a recording of the original Sasha, and existed when the Not!Them wasn’t yet identified as such. It was a private tape, it doesn’t contain sensitive information about the Institute unlike Gertrude’s – what happened to it, for it to be now sent to Jon? Same thing, Elias technically could have grabbed a hold of it… but it’s a silly scene, it doesn’t contain super sensitive information, and I feel like he would have gloated about it in his previous statement in a “I left you a little souvenir of the past!” way?

* So. The sender could be Elias, but I don’t think that it’s him, mostly because of what they have in common and what they seem to be saying: Sasha and mostly… fire. Fire in the Archives, the concept of setting the Archives on fire.

(MAG161) ARCHIVIST: –Yes, thank you, I do hope you’re not planning to light those candles…! TIM: … Oh, goodness! [SHAKES A BOX OF MATCHES] A source of ignition? In the Archives? ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] SASHA: [CHUCKLES] TIM: Uh oh! […] Oh? Woops! [A MATCH IS LIT] Sorry; my hand slipped. ELIAS?: [HISS] TIM: And again. [CRACKLE OF A BIRTHDAY CANDLE WICK] And again. And… a couple more times, here – I’m so clumsy today; that is a lot of fire! ARCHIVIST: I’m really not comfortable with– SASHA: So blow them out, then. ARCHIVIST: Oh. [FIRE CRACKLING] … Right, yeah–

(MAG161) LEITNER: Right… What are you going to do? GERTRUDE: Paper burns well. [GURGLING LIQUID] Petrol burns… better. LEITNER: Aha! I always forget about your pyromaniac streak. GERTRUDE: Mm. Remind me to tell you about Agnes, sometime…!

… And also something very new with Gertrude: it seems that… she wasn’t only planning to set the Archives on fire as a distraction while she was going after Jonah’s real body in the Panopticon, as she had told Elias when he caught her pouring petrol:

(MAG158) GERTRUDE: Shame, really; I used to be able to torch a building in half the time. [SIGH] Age catches us all. … Well. Almost all of us, Elias. ELIAS: You were the one so… insistent on staying human. […] What exactly were you hoping to achieve here? Why not come at me directly instead of burning everything first? GERTRUDE: I was rather hoping the fire would occupy you while I did just that. ELIAS: I see…! How long have you known? GERTRUDE: About your body? Not long after you took your new host and we had that little… chat. Wasn’t exactly a huge leap to the Panopticon after that. The hard part was figuring out how to actually reach it. Took me the better part of a decade. ELIAS: So you burn the place down, use it as cover to reach my body, and then we die together. [CHUCKLE] How… poetic. Doesn’t seem like your style at all.

(MAG161) GERTRUDE: [SHARPLY] We’re wasting time. Do you still have the Ruskin book? LEITNER: I do. Though I don’t relish the thought of using it. Makes it rather hard to breathe, like your chest– GERTRUDE: You know– LEITNER: –is being… GERTRUDE: –the gas main, little way out in the tunnel? LEITNER: I do. GERTRUDE: I need you to move it. LEITNER: I, hum… That’s… I mean, that’s not just earth, there’s pipework and all sorts of– GERTRUDE: Find a way. I need it to be directly under the Institute, or… at least, closer. LEITNER: I’m more likely to rupture it and fill the place with gas. GERTRUDE: Hm! That would also be acceptable.

SHE WAS PLANNING TO EXPLODE THE BUILDING AND THE TUNNELS?! That’s what the gas would have done when in contact with the fire! So did she bullshit to Elias about knowing where the Panopticon was, to hide her actual plot? She had already blown up a suspected Archive with a gas main:

(MAG053) GERTRUDE: It’s taken a long time to track down someone still living who found the Serapeum of Alexandria. It’s not a full confirmation of my theory about ancient iterations of the Archive, but I’m certainly feeling validated for pursuing it. […] Regardless, I have further follow-up of my own to do. My biggest concern right now is whatever creature Mr Heller encountered down there. It was… 56 years ago. But if it’s still alive, I should be careful. What was it? A guardian of some sort or perhaps… perhaps it too was… once an Archivist. […] ARCHIVIST: I’ve found a news article from March 1998, six months after this statement was taken. It reports an explosion in Alexandria, which destroyed several buildings in the vicinity of Pompey’s Pillar, and killed 17 people. Official investigation determined it to be a gas mains explosion, but… I wonder. Gertrude Robinson is not who I thought she was.

And… we know that Leitner moved the gas main, and that it’s still waiting under the Institute…

(MAG068) ARCHIVIST: Supplemental. I’m in the tunnels. I was exploring and I got lost. I haven’t gone down any of the stairs and I– I think I’m still under the Institute. There were a couple of spiders, so I changed routes and found, I think it’s a gas main. Must be for the whole building. But there’s someone coming and I– I don’t know who else would be down here, except… I mean, whatever’s down here.

… because Jon was redirected towards it by friggin’ spiders, in the episode preceding the one about Annabelle Cane’s emergence as an avatar.

Complete with Elias’s Knock-knock (MAG081: “Then, on page five, the words ‘KNOCK KNOCK’ appear next to the door in the same style as the words of the title. Mr. Spider’s arms are suddenly straight and still by his side. The text comes again: ‘WHO IS IT, MR. SPIDER?’”), Elias insisting so much about the cake (MAG081: “‘IT’S MR. BLUEBOTTLE’, the text reads, ‘AND HE’S BROUGHT YOU A CAKE’.”), Tim joking about “a source of ignition? In the Archives?” which was Jon’s exact recrimination when he unpacked and discovered the Web lighter (MAG036: “And I don’t allow ignition sources in my archive!”), it really feels to me like it’s The Web that sent the tapes? There are so many little connections and narrative irony, it sounds like something a “Story-Spinner” would send…?

If it’s indeed The Web: I… am not banking on the tapes being a guideline to explain how to get rid of Jonah. It could still be gloating: look, we made you aware of the gas main under the Archives; look, we had sent you the Web lighter; you had all the cards in your hands and yet you didn’t grab your chance when you had it, and it’s your own fault that Jonah was still around when he tricked you into reading his incantation. It could still be that kind of message.

(+ Big problem in the Archives about using the gas main… is the New Fire Suppression System (MAG039, Elias: “On Jon’s insistence I recently changed the Archive’s fire suppression system to use carbon dioxide. Should have done it years ago, really–”). IIRC, CO2 is precisely good to counter leaking gas fire?)

- We’re getting a few indications about the current state of the world:

(Season 5 trailer) MARTIN: Uh, o–okay, eh. [PAUSE] How are you feeling today? ARCHIVIST: [LONG INHALE] Define… “today”. [CREAKING SOUND] MARTIN: “How are you feeling in general”, then? ARCHIVIST: … Unchanged. [PAUSE] I don’t know if it’ll ever change again…! […] MARTIN: OH! Woah…! Oh… Wha… [HIGH-PITCHED] What, but I–, I–I made that, if– I… Wh… I thought it was– ARCHIVIST: I’m sorry, Martin. MARTIN: [PANTS] ARCHIVIST: [WITH AN EDGE] Things don’t work like that anymore…! MARTIN: Like what?! ARCHIVIST: Like normal. This is no longer a world where you can trust…! MARTIN: What, t–tea?! ARCHIVIST: … Comfort.

(MAG161) MARTIN: You should get some sleep. [CREAKING SOUND] ARCHIVIST: I… [SIGH] can’t. I–I–I can’t, I–I don’t think I do anymore… “Sleep”. [EXHALE] How long’s it been, now? MARTIN: I don’t know. It’s not like there are days to count anymore. All the clocks have stopped, and… [DISTANT HOWL] ARCHIVIST: Well, I haven’t yet. I get… tired, but it doesn’t feel the same. [WOODEN CREAKING SOUND] Probably for the best. Sleep doesn’t look… pleasant. MARTIN: Nnno, it’s… it’s not. ARCHIVIST: I couldn’t wake you. […] I’m just… I’m mourning a world I killed…! MARTIN: I know… ARCHIVIST: And we’re all trapped in its rotting corpse…! […] MARTIN: [DRY HUFF] What about food? ARCHIVIST: What about it? When’s the last time you thought to eat, o–or even felt hungry? MARTIN: [FAINT] What…? Wha… Uh… I don’t know. ARCHIVIST: No. Whatever is sustaining us now doesn’t need us to eat. MARTIN: That… that can’t be possible– ARCHIVIST: It’s a new world, Martin, the natural laws are whatever they want them to be. And I suspect they don’t much care to keep humanity fed and watered.

* So time and necessities have been affected – I was wondering if the “eternity of torment” promised by Elias meant that everyone would be kept in a state of not-being-able-to-die, it might be the case…? (Which adds another concern if (if.) they managed to undo that apocalypse: would time catch up to everyone, suddenly, thus annihilating everyone in one-go…?)

* The most characteristic element of Elias’s office, sound-wise, was the clock/metronome in the background. If we were to go back in that office at some point, would it have stopped like all the others? Or not?

* This episode showed Jon listening to the recordings of fixed points (his own birthday, a representation of time passing as a personal experience; Gertrude&Leitner the day they tried to neutralise Elias, resulting in Gertrude’s death and, ultimately, in Jon rising as the next Head Archivist) at a moment during which “time” is not experienced anymore as a stable and sure thing (they can’t track days anymore, the clocks have stopped)… and yet, time is indeed still going, still there as a continuum? There is a past, there is future, there is a “right now”, down to the case number (“Case ########–1”): no date, yes, but if you’re counting 1, 2, 3, etc., then there is still a logic, still a progression. The main difference, right now, seems to be that time is less tangible, less grounded? More subjective, but without the regularity of the world going around them? I wonder if time will get further twisted, or will remain… a constant “undetermined”.

- I’m squinting a bit at the fact that Jon insists that this apocalypse seems to resist any change (and mentioning the day before the invocation as “the day before the Change”), and pushing to preserve their current status quo:

(Season 5 trailer) MARTIN: “How are you feeling in general”, then? ARCHIVIST: … Unchanged. [PAUSE] I don’t know if it’ll ever change again…! [MIRTHLESS CHUCKLE]

(MAG161) MARTIN: I know. But we can’t stay in this cabin forever…! [DISTANT HOWL] ARCHIVIST: Why not? It, it’s quiet here, an–and I have you…! […] MARTIN: Well, that as may be, we can’t just stay here forever. ARCHIVIST: What could possibly be out there that you want to see?

… when the one thing that had been characterised by “change”, last season, was Adelard’s definition of The Extinction:

(MAG134, Adelard Dekker) “This is a fear of extinction. Of change. It used to be part of The End, perhaps, when The End of humanity was to be the end of all things; but now, the fear is not of a rapture or a revelation; it is of catastrophic change. A change in our world that will wipe out what it means to be “us”, and leave something else in its place. […] The Extinction. The Terrible Change. The-Future-Without-Us.”

So, hum… Given that Martin still thought in MAG158 that The Extinction as an aspect of Fear might legitimately be on the rise, I wonder if he’ll try to dig further in that area, and cause something worse in the process (although that doesn’t bode great at all for humanity: Simon had warned that, anyway, the world would just keep going, that “ends of the world” and cataclysms had happened and would happen again).

- I wonder if the dreams, and specifically Martin’s, will become a Big Slap In The Face by the end of the season (making us go back to the mention from this ep and going “OH NO, THE FORESHADOWING/HINT D:”)…

(MAG161) ARCHIVIST: Well, I haven’t yet. I get… tired, but it doesn’t feel the same. [WOODEN CREAKING SOUND] Probably for the best. Sleep doesn’t look… pleasant. MARTIN: Nnno, it’s… it’s not. ARCHIVIST: I couldn’t wake you. [WOODEN CREAKING SOUND] MARTIN: I’m sorry. […] Well, just as well I don’t remember my dreams. ARCHIVIST: I do. MARTIN: Uh– What? ARCHIVIST: They… I see most of the suffering around here. When it’s quiet, it just… it’s like… I can see it, like I’m watching all of it. MARTIN: You haven’t been opening the curtains? ARCHIVIST: No, I don’t need to. “It” can see us here, and… [WOODEN CREAKING SOUND] And I can see out as well. MARTIN: O–kay, we’ll just file that under… ominous, for now.

Is it the same for everyone (no comfort found in sleep, sleep being as unpleasant as awareness)? In Martin’s case, does it mean that he has lost Beholding’s protection as a member of the Institute (since he was going to The Lonely), or does it mean that, anyway, the rules have changed and Jon will see people’s dreams indiscriminately, including Basira’s? What about Melanie’s, since she cut ties with Beholding? … Do Jon and Martin have the same definition of an unpleasant dream…? (=> is it the “Martin dreams about Jane Prentiss” kind of unpleasant, or the “Martin dreams about being back into The Lonely and feeling fine there, and it’s the waking up part which is unpleasant” kind?).

- It seems like Elias was kiiiiind of (absolutely) right about the concept that Jon would be perfectly tailored for this world… as Archivist:

(Season 5 trailer) MARTIN: Are you still… [SIGH] “feeling it”? Seeing everything? ARCHIVIST: Yes, I, I’m trying not to, but… all of the fear, th–the anguish, i–it just… [INHALE] It keeps coming at me in waves, rolling over me, filling my head with such… awful sights. MARTIN: … I’m sorry. That sounds… [SMALL EXHALE] That sounds horrible. ARCHIVIST: … I wish it was, Martin. I really wish it was. … But it feels… right. [MIRTHLESS HUFF]

(MAG161) ARCHIVIST: They… I see most of the suffering around here. When it’s quiet, it just… it’s like… I can see it, like I’m watching all of it. MARTIN: You haven’t been opening the curtains? ARCHIVIST: No, I don’t need to. “It” can see us here, and… [WOODEN CREAKING SOUND] And I can see out as well. […] … Besides… G… [SHAKY EXHALE] Grief… is healthy. I–if nothing else, it pushes away the other feelings that that… thing wants me to experience. […] It’s so… It’s so loud, out there? The agony, the–the terror, I can see it all so much more clearly…!

;; For “the other feelings that that thing wants me to experience”: Jon got a bit more aware of the influences that were pushed on him during season 4 (leading him to discover Eric’s tape), I’m really impressed that he managed to establish what he didn’t want to embrace and what he considered as himself and his own feelings, his own ethics? Despite his jab at Martin for not falling into despair “like me [Jon]”, it doesn’t feel like Jon has utterly given up, since he’s still refusing to embrace the Beholding part of himself – if he had absolutely given up, whether or not he were enjoying the apocalypse wouldn’t really matter, right? Yet, he’s still fighting on that front, still hasn’t decided to stop feeling guilty like Helen did.

Regarding his relationship to The Eye, it sounds like an extension of what used to be his dreamscape, where he couldn’t escape The Eye anywhere, hated it, and yet was completed by it:

(MAG120) ELIAS: It opens, and he walks slowly down the steps into the earth; but even as it closes above him, the great shadow still Sees him. There is nowhere in this universe that it would not blot out the sky. […] But the Archivist is not afraid. His only fear is that even here, at the centre of the world, barrelling towards a flightless, infinite tomb, still, he will be watched. Still, he will watch. […] So he watches her, trying in his single-minded focus to ignore the attention of that impossible thing that covers the sky and fixes its gaze on him with such force it would choke him – were he breathing. […] And at last, the Archivist looks up. At last, he looks into The Eye that sees all, and knows all, and clutches at the secret terrors of your heart. The Ceaseless Watcher of all that is, and all that was; the voracious, infinite hunger that tears at his soul, invoking him to discover, to observe, to experience all and everything and forever. It stares into him, and it stares out of him, and he is falling into the devouring eternity of its pupil. He wants to cry out in horror, but he cannot. He. is. whole.

(Down to the “it stares into him, and it stares out of him” symbiotic relationship since Jon explained that his awareness of the suffering is linked to what “it” can see.)

It’s heart-breaking that Jon’s resistance towards embracing his monsterhood… came with a form of self-harm (rummaging in the past), yet grounding him away from his instinct to enjoy the chaos. Glad and sad that Jon&Martin had that tiny argument about what counts as “healthy” in the current circumstances – it’s not the time, not the circumstances anymore indeed… and yet, it has always and never been the time before, anyway. I’m curious about how Jon directly qualified his listening to the tapes as a form of processing his “grief”, since there has been that theory of TMA organised as the five stages of grief floating around, it worked very well for the first four seasons… and the last phase would then end with “acceptance”. He’s not there right now, but that could be the inner journey in season 5…

- We’ve yet to see if Elias was right and will be spared, but at least, Jon is indeed in a position of power in the new setting:

(MAG161) MARTIN: Uh, yes. Still: better than outside. [CREAKING SOUND] [EVIL MOO / BÂÂ IN THE DISTANCE] MARTIN: It sounds bad. ARCHIVIST: [MIRTHLESS LAUGHTER] It is…! [SILENCE] MARTIN: … Are we still safe? ARCHIVIST: Y–yes, it… it doesn’t want to harm me. MARTIN: And me? ARCHIVIST: I won’t let it. […] … I just wish it didn’t feel like whatever’s out there was waiting, too. MARTIN: Yeah… [SILENCE]

(I can’t decide if it’s a moo or a bââ, and I can’t decide which I would love more: evil cow because there is no comfort anymore, or evil bââ because of Jonathan “Bâââ” Sims from MAG125. The cry is really faint but heard multiple times through their exchanges!)

So: at least on Jon’s front, he’s not targeted by things out there, and sounds confident that he would be able/powerful enough to keep them away from Martin.

… I wonder how aware Jon currently is of the risk of losing Martin, and how much it weighs in his protests against the idea of leaving the safehouse. On the one hand, he might not be able to protect Martin efficiently if they were to travel outside (and… as Peter had pointed out to him in MAG159, Martin is “the last”); on the other hand, heading towards more populated areas means receiving more suffering from many more people, so the prospect of leaving indeed sounds like a lose-lose for Jon on both fronts. Still: as soon as they leave the cabin, what will begin in retrospect is probably… the story of how they will lose each other in some way or another. (Unless they die together.)

- Regarding Jon&Martin, I love the togetherness, the fact that Jon agrees to show his vulnerable sides and to explain himself! Martin is not enduring things anymore, snaps and protests, and the contrast between his s1!self (unable to assert himself and getting walked over by everyone, not in a mean way but still… very casually) is so blatant!

(MAG161) MARTIN: It just… It hurts me to see you wallowing, like this. ARCHIVIST: [SHARPLY] Well, some of us weren’t able to cut ourselves off from the world before it ended. [WOODEN CREAKING SOUND] MARTIN: That’s not fair. [SILENCE] ARCHIVIST: [SOFTER] No, it’s not, I’m, I’m sorry, I just… [RUSTLING OF CLOTHES] [INHALE, EXHALE] It hurts. MARTIN: I know. […] ARCHIVIST: No, it’s– [SIGH] I love you, I just… I need more time. [SILENCE] MARTIN: It’s alright. [RUSTLING OF CLOTHES] [CREAKING SOUND]

* … I wonder if Martin’s absence of reaction following Jon’s “I love you” means that he was already used to it, or if he didn’t react because… he doesn’t have many emotions left, himself, after his Lonely-fication.

* Jon’s accusation seemed very targeted, and ;; Martin had explained that Jon was the only person left for him, in MAG158, I… think it might still be genuinely the case? And that Martin is able to think about a solution or a path precisely because other people’s suffering doesn’t matter much for him and he doesn’t empathetically feel for them? Martin still has a moral compass (like in MAG158, when he pointed out that he did care if people were to die following Elias’s death), but… I’m not sure he’s doing it “for people”.

* There was a brusque turnaround from Martin pointing out that the safehouse was “better than outside” before Gertrude’s tape, to Martin pushing Jon to leave in search for a solution with him: did Martin suggest they could go on that journey because Jon looked sad, and that Martin is mostly… trying to fix this problem? (Jon looks sad because of the end of the world, therefore they must find a way to revert the world to its original state, and Jon won’t be sad anymore.)

* I’m a bit worried over the push-pull relationship between Jon&Martin right now, especially with Martin’s past involvement with The Lonely… Jon shuts him down quite a lot, and although Martin snaps and Jon relents and apologises, Martin is still put in the position of being his caretaker at the moment (going to check on Jon, reminding him that his guilt is misplaced, etc.): it… is a bit uncomfortable given Martin’s pedigree (trying to take care of his mother and being constantly rejected). Jon was quick to apologise and tried to ease it, but I’m a bit worried on that front.

* It doesn’t seem like Martin had realised that his biological rules have changed when it comes to sleeping or eating; is it a Martin-thing (due to his having a supernatural connection with The Lonely and/or with Jon), or is it the same for all of humanity now?

* Big scare that Martin could be (unknowingly?) feeding from Jon – what could be Lonelier than someone obsessively listening to tapes from a past that has been lost and can’t be reached anymore? When Martin said “It hurts me to see you wallowing”, was it genuine, or an attempt at self-convincing that he’s not thriving on it (and feeding from it)…?

- In the series of contrast between Jon and Martin: “waiting”.

(MAG161) ARCHIVIST: No, it’s– [SIGH] I love you, I just… I need more time. [SILENCE] MARTIN: It’s alright. [RUSTLING OF CLOTHES] [CREAKING SOUND] ARCHIVIST: [SOFT EXHALE] MARTIN: It’s alright, I’m good at waiting.

And it’s a skill that Martin indeed learned to perfect, forced by circumstances: from being besieged by Prentiss to convincing Tim to wait for the Jon-intervention, to waiting for the opportunity to trap Elias, to the months spent playing Peter like a Cheap Whistle:

(MAG022) MARTIN: This went on for thirteen days. Every time I thought it might be safe to try and leave I’d hear that knocking at my door come back. Luckily there was no problem with my water supply, so I had plenty to drink. I’m just glad none of them thought to come up through the pipes. I eat a lot of… ready meals, cans, that kind of thing, so… I had food, although after the first few days I had to start rationing. If I ever see another can of peaches… [SHUDDERS] But… I–I think the worst part was the boredom.

(MAG117) MARTIN: These last couple of years, I’ve always been… running, always hiding, caught in someone else’s trap, but… but now it’s my trap. And, well. I think it will work. I know, I know it’s not exactly intricate, but… it felt good, weaving my own little web.

(MAG158) MARTIN: And then… [SHAKILY] Jon came back, and… and suddenly, I had a reason: I had to keep your attention on me. Make you feel in control, so you didn’t take it out on him. […] So I… played along, waited to see what your endgame was. And here we are.

(ThisIsHowWebMartinCanStillWinTM, since Breekon had described The Web as “knows too much to truly be a Stranger, but hides its knowing well enough to endure”.)

… Meanwhile, Jon used to hate waiting and staying inactive:

(MAG031) ARCHIVIST: Hunted. … Yes… I think I’m starting to know the feeling. […] It’s… been two months now… since Martin returned… and we. Became. the ones. being… hunted. Are we being hunted? … Martin’s still living here, and I’m leaving less and less. The worms keep turning up, we kill them, but there are more each week. … What is she waiting for…?

(MAG115) ARCHIVIST: Maybe it’s not that. Maybe it’s just this… stillness, the anticipation. I– We know what’s happening, we know what we have to do about it, we even have something approaching a plan for once. And while it’s a welcome change not to be desperately praying for a deus ex machina, I don’t really know how to handle the waiting. […] So I suppose I’m safe. But everything just feels like… killing time, running down the clock. I don’t think I like it. God, do I– do I miss being chased? That’s depressing. No, it’s… I just miss feeling like I’m moving, like I–

(MAG130) ARCHIVIST: … It’s been two weeks since I heard from Basira. I’m not waiting any longer. I’m getting Daisy back.

(MAG137) ARCHIVIST: What the hell is The Watcher’s Crown? So far the only mention of it I’ve had is from Gerry, and he didn’t seem to know much about what it actually meant. [PAUSE] And he���s gone now. But if it is the grand ritual of Beholding, then I– … I mean… I need to know about it. Right…? I feel like I’m on a deadline, like I’m running out of time somehow – and I don’t even know where to go! What to look for, o–or… [EXHALE] Just casting around blindly for more clues to just… drop into my lap. Everyone else is… running towards something, or running away, and I… [SIGH] I don’t know what I’m doing. [PAUSE] [SIGH] I’m just tired. Think I might go lie down for a while. Get a cup of tea [HUFF]

(MAG139) ARCHIVIST: … [SIGH] I’m just worried about Martin. … Christ… Every other Avatar gets to have their feelings… burned right out of them, but me? I’ve… just got to sit in mine. … I know he said he had everything under control. I need… to trust him; whatever he’s doing with Peter, he’s… he knows what he’s doing. Probably. I just– … [DEEP INHALE] [VERY FAST] I need him to be okay. I just do. … If I… Knew… what his plan was; if I knew what Peter was doing; if I just– [WHISPERING] … Can I…?

And used to jump into action in order to find a solution at every turn. So seeing him asking for more time, and suggesting that they could stay in the safehouse “forever”… Ooft. Someone has been burned one too many time after MAG160.

- We don’t know the exact amount of tapes that Jon received, but he implied there were more than what we’ve heard:

(MAG161) ARCHIVIST: Have you heard the Gertrude one? MARTIN: What? ARCHIVIST: The Gertrude tape. [A TAPE IS LOADED] There’re a–a few of them, but this is my favourite.

* So, multiple ones, possibly multiple ones with Gertrude specifically? Given that we heard Gertrude&Leitner together for the first time, I wonder if we’ll hear a Gertrude&Gerry one at some point, or a Gertrude&Adelard, or a Gertrude&Agnes (depending if she was sincere when she told Arthur that she had never met her… though, epistolary conversation through letters and/or tapes could work!), or Gertrude&Emma-the-third-assistant, or Gertrude&Elias just after Jonah had body-hopped, or even before…

* Anyway, BOLD CHOICE to begin with Jon’s “favourite” because it means that if we listen to the other tapes in the next few episodes… we’ll know they’re not Jon’s favourite.

- Really, I really, really appreciate how the episode brought up sharp contrasts in multiple aspects, but mostly expressed by the opposition between Jon&Martin: staying indoors and listening to the past and to what-could-have-been, going out and searching for a solution that might not even exist to fix the future. It’s an interesting case where the episode title, “Dwelling”, refers to two different things… that are after all one and the same: the house Jon doesn’t want to leave, and the memories of the past that he keeps listening to as a way to push back what the new world is trying to force on him. The same bubble, both physical and metaphorical.

We’re kicking off with a status quo, so what will be able to break it? Jon getting enough “time” to accept to leave and begin searching on his own, without any push? One of the monsters trying to attack Martin? Basira and/or Melanie&Georgie finding them? The Not!Them, Julia&Trevor or monster!Daisy? New tapes or statements left for them to invite them somewhere? (Elias barging in with Regrets because he’s not as immune as he hoped would make me laugh a lot, but I think he would rather choke on his own eyes than admit that he was wrong in any way. ^^)

  Title for next episode seems very… down to earth… and absolutely not ominous… absolutely not… Aside from the obvious, what could be the second meaning…? Something about what happened to the village? … Title could work in a way for Salesa (or Peter?!) content, though not banking on it.