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mizumi-kahago-writing · 2 years ago

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An affectious disease [DespairDisease!Hajime x Reader | Mini Fic | AU – Canon Divergence]

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Thanks to Monokuma’s newest motive, the class had been split into two since a couple of days. You stayed at the motel with most of the others; meanwhile Fuyuhiko and Hajime stayed at the hospital with Mikan and all the patients. Usually at this time in the morning, you’d call the others who had stayed back, but even after a while of ringing, no one answered. A strange feeling of worry grew within your guts and so you decided to check up on Hajime at least, aware that he had to sleep in his own cottage.

As you made your way to the hotel grounds, a frantically crying Mikan ran past you. Not even noticing your presence, as she seemed to be in a hurry. Clearly, she just came from the cottages. Paying no further mind to the anxious nurse, you made your way to the boys’ rooms. Knowing very well, that what you were doing right now was treacherous, as you risked everyone else getting sick, if you interacted with those who had close contact with the disease already.

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However, you couldn’t really betray your feelings. As of now, ever since this wicked game of life and death began, you harbored feelings for the young boy with the spiky brown hair; and they only grew seeing his heroic speeches and actions during the trials. Knowing fully-well this killing game, wasn’t the place for any romantic feelings, you always kept to yourself. Hopefully you would get a chance to confess once this nightmare of an island trip was over.

As you arrived in front of his cottage, you hesitated to open the door, hands hovering over the doorknob. It was more polite to knock, so you did once: No answer whatsoever. Maybe he had left already, and you just missed him on your way here. The door budging ever so slightly underneath your palms, you noticed it wasn’t even properly closed. In the end, you couldn’t help yourself but to peek inside. After betraying the trust of your class already, you now also had breach of privacy on your personal list of crimes.

With shaking hands and legs, you entered the cabin, just to find a sleepy yet restless Hajime moving under the covers. As you saw him struggling to find a comfortable position you greeted him: “H-Hajime… aren’t you supposed to be with Mikan, back at the hospital?” Approaching him, he took note of your presence, facing you to reveal that he was sweating heavily, with his cheeks glowing a bright red.

Something was off, so you reached out your hand to feel his temperature. “You’re hot!” Spouting out in shock, and it became clear as day: He must have caught the despair disease too. To your surprise, his lips curled up into a cheeky smile: “Thanks.” He replied, as he was completely unfazed by the fact, that he was sick. “Now’s not the time for jokes. We must get you to the hospital, to have Mikan check up on you.” Already trying to lift him from his blankets.

Damn that boy was heavy, feeling his stiff yet burning hot body pressing against you; hoping you wouldn’t contract the disease yourself. With a defeated sigh, you noticed you couldn’t lift him at all and so you gave up moving him and instead let him slide back down onto the mattress. However, he had other plans in mind, as he wrapped both of his arms tightly around your hips, rubbing his cheeks onto your soft tummy, like an affection starved kitty.

“Wait a second, I saw Mikan on my way here. Did she already perform a check up on you?” Asking him to distract from the situation at hand, as you were still a bit perplex of what to do with him. “Oh, yes, Mikan was here just this morning. We cuddled in bed. But then she freaked out and ran away…” Just casually dropping that, like that was the most normal thing ever. “Quite sad, I’d have loved to cuddle some more.” His words had a purring yet melancholic undertone to them.

Placing your hand on his head, you stroked through his short strands of hair, admittingly you couldn’t resist, you found his behavior very adorable in a way. Taking that gesture of yours quite well, he rose his head, looking at you with a soft smile. Not really sure if you saw his cheeks getting even redder, but yours definitely were, as his half-unbuttoned shirt slit off his shoulders thanks to his movements, exposing more of his torso.

“Listen, Hajime…” Placing both of your hands on his shoulders, as you tried to get him to lay back down. Not sure where to go with that speech you started, you desperately searched for words in your mind. “You’re sick and you need to rest. I get Mikan to check on you again and then you stay at the hospital as well, until you’re feeling better. Sounds good?” Adverting your gaze towards the door, as you already made plans to leave.

Once more the boy, held onto your waist making you unable to leave in the process. “No, please stay with me. I don’t want to be alone.” His behavior was kind of creeping you out, seeing him like this felt odd, that your hackles rose, not sure if in excitement or fear. “H-hey, take it slow. First please lay down-“ Not even letting you finish, he grabbed you tightly, swung you over into the bed and made you fall onto him and right into his arms, as he gladly enveloped you in a hug.

That sudden pull made you feel dizzy, as your head spun around for a few more seconds. “Hajime-?! What are you-?!” Pulling on your nerves a bit, he had none of your protests. Pressing his fingers on your lips, he told you to “Shhh”. Immediately followed up by him, pulling you in closer and snuggling his face into your chest. ‘This despair disease surely did a number on him’; you thought while rolling your eyes. For the time being, best you could do was to just let it happen.

A few moments, snuggles and head pats later, he seemed to have calmed down a little. His body still as hot as before, but luckily much more relaxed, as he had curled up in bed next to you. For now, he was keeping it down at least. Another sigh from you, as you turned over, laying your back, staring at the ceiling, recalling your feelings for him. In a way, this was all you’ve ever dreamed off, but on the other hand it felt so forced, so unnatural, so…wrong.

Swallowing down these thoughts heavy-hearted, as you placed the back of your hand on your own forehead. You didn’t have time to think much more about it anyways, as the boy next to you started to shift and move again, letting out ever so tiny gasps and moans from his mouth. “Hm, hey… (y/n).” Hearing him speak out your name so clearly, made your ears twitch up and your entire body along with it. “Yeah? What is it?” Nervously replying to his call.

“Did I ever tell you, that I like you more than just a friend?” His words were so gentle, yet they hit you like daggers. You knew where this would be going. Muffling a bit, he continued, as focused him with shaking side-eyes. “When I’m with you, I feel so warm inside. I get these butterflies in my stomach; it just makes me happy. It makes all the bad things happening to us, much more bearable, as if everything evil was so, so far away.” Confessing some more of his feelings to you.

Even if your chest felt tight, as you clenched it, you couldn’t help it, but hearing this, made you smile. Glad, you were glad that he felt like this. At least you weren’t alone anymore with your feelings. A deep breath of relief, as you closed your eyes for just a second. Once more he moved, you could feel him on top of you now, which in turn made your eyes jolt wide open again.

Moments, which felt like an eternity, passed, as he held steady eye contact with you. His hands wandering along your jaw, caressing your cheeks, and finally cupping your face in the end. So close, he was so close, you could feel his breath brushing against your lips. “(y/n), I love you. I always have. Since the very beginning.” With these words, he leaned in closer and sealing his confession with a long romantic kiss.

For some reason you couldn’t allow yourself to enjoy it, at first, because you knew he only said so because of his condition. But then, you noticed it was futile to deny these feelings any longer, giving up all your defenses, as you just closed your eyes, wholeheartedly enjoying what he was doing to you. This moment was everything you had dreamed off the past few weeks.

The rest of the day was plastered over with small gestures of love, cuddling, kisses and mutual care. You didn’t even fight it at that point, it was just nice to spend time with him like this. Your only worry remained, hopefully you wouldn’t catch the disease as well. But even that was a small concern for the day.

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This peace wouldn’t remain for long, as the sunshine of the next day broke through, yet another body was discovered, another trial held. Luckily with the body discovery, the sickness vanished within seconds, like a miracle everyone was back to their old selves. Hajime and you didn’t have the chance to speak for the entirety of the investigation nor during trial.

But it was probably for the better anyways. As of now only the memories of said day remained. Secretly hoping, he had just forgotten about it the moment he was cured.

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A few days had passed since the last trial, the latest execution. Mikan, the ultimate nurse and blackened of this case was gone, and with her the chance to perform any further autopsy in the future. That she had caught the despair disease during her time she cared for the patients as well, came as a shock to all of us.

Passing Hajime at Jabberwok-Park, you were deep in thought, it seemed like everyone but him and you had already moved past the recent deaths of your classmates. But who could blame them? It had happened so often by now, eventually everyone would grow stale to the sight of dead bodies.

Not paying attention you bumped into Hajime’s shoulder. “Ah sorry, I didn’t see you there.” You quickly apologized and he just replied with nervous smile. “No, it’s fine. I also didn’t pay attention.” So, you thought with that, you two would go your separate ways. But just as he made half a step away from you, you couldn’t resist the urge to grab his wrist, making him stop in his tracks.

“Hajime. No, it’s not fine. I have something to ask you about.” He seemed a bit confused, as he turned around to face you, after such a statement. “Yeah? What is it?” Scratching his cheek in a curious fashion. “A few days ago, when you were sick…” You started; “Did you really mean, what you said there?” Confronting him directly about it.

“Mean, what I said?” Even more nervous than before, the redness returned all over his face. “What exactly, do you mean?” His questions in reply were slow and hesitant.

“Don’t play dumb, your confession. That you love me. Did you mean that?!” Now shouting at him. Silence remained for only a second, as he then fiddled with his words. “Well, I was sick, so I wasn’t in the right mind and…” Visibly affected by what you just said to him.

After a deep breath to calm down, he concluded, patting your head once. “Well, you know. I said what I said, so who knows. I’m leaving it up to you if I meant what I said.” Leaving you with such an ambiguous answer, as you let go of him, making his way back to the first island.

Now you were all alone with just your lingering thoughts. “Because… because I do.” Just whispering to yourself, as you looked at him go. “I do love you, Hajime Hinata.”

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This is a mini fic for @nekonekoluv who told me about an AU where Hajime got the despair disease and turns very affectionate. This is a canon divergence in Chapter 3 of SDR2, the rest plays out as it does in canon. I could have done better writing wise, but I hope it’s still fine.

#dangan #ronpa #hajime #hinata #hajime hinata #danganronpa #dangan ronpa #Super Danganronpa 2 #hajime x reader #hajime hinata x reader #reader insert #reader #fanfic #danganronpa fanfic #AU #canon divergence

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cloudyyoungjaes · 2 years ago

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When can I clock out?

Content warning: talks of suicide ideation, very vivid talks of mental health A/N: I wrote this for a workshop. Somehow people like this and when I read the first page “I straight up hate being alive [...] ...not that I was there to begin with” people said they liked it even more bc yk I somehow have a good presentation voice or smth. idk. heed the warnings.

I straight up hate being alive. Loathe it. Tire of it. Most of the days blur together; sometimes they’re in greys and whites, other times…in this deep dark black void. Where there’s no way out and all I can do is curl up in silence while the lyrics from Meltdown ‘A morning without me // Would be perfect // All the gears meshing together // That's how the world would be’ blast through my head and Rin doing her high pitch scream… or sometimes it would be Super Junior’s Kyuhyun belting out those high notes in Mamacita while I try to put the feeling down of god do I not want to be awake right now in class. And not having a breakdown. Those happen too, unfortunately.

(I can only have one a month…rather, my heart mind and body won’t let me have more than one breakdown a month)

Often times I wonder when did my heart become numb. Numb to the world, numb to feelings, numb numb numb. I might have depression; I wish I knew. People say I’m lazy, that I’m not trying enough. Or maybe I just don’t care anymore. Missed deadlines, unfinished projects. They’re all left to dust, destined to sink because of my apathy. It’s my fault, it’s always my fault that I’m stuck like this. I stand still in an ever-moving world, wanting to go back to sleep every time I’m awake. I want fall deeper and deeper into sleep, so deep that no one can wake me. Alive with my heart ever beating, but asleep to the world. Maybe someone would eventually care that I was gone, or people would forget about me. I know people are going to fall eventually to the latter; I’m forgettable…no one really remembers me. I don’t think people would care enough to notice that I’m gone…not that I was there to begin with.

I wear red. Red is my favorite color: red hair, red jacket, Red Mage main in Final Fantasy XIV. A color supposed to represent fire and brightness and passion and blood and to balance white and black magics. While I do wear red on the outside, I feel grey, and my world is in this stupid ass monochrome with the edges blurring and fading into black. Despair, if it had a color, would be the color black. The darkest abyss staring back at me with calm embrace. I want to fall in. I really want to fall into the deep end. Where I can scream and cry, no one else is around.

…It’s not like anyone is around anymore. In a sea of faceless people, a sea of random profile pictures, I’m alone. I’m so alone. People come and go, except when people go they fucking leave and I stand in this garbage pile of weighted lead and candy wrappers surrounding my bed and my soul. I’m tired of having to clean up, only for it to be messy again. Sometimes, I think it’s better to let that pile grow. Cleaning would help, but what’s the point? It’ll get messy again and at this point I can’t even care to clean it up. I wish I had someone to help me. But alas, I unfortunately have sleepy person disease and extreme apathy for the world.

I stay attached to my bed. A sigh. My bed sheets haven’t been washed in weeks with its food stains and dust. Too tired to wash my bed sheets and blankets. Heavy…I just want to sleep. I’m like a phone with a shitty battery that needs to be plugged in. Homework? Who cares! I missed a deadline for a major project and I want to fucking avoid my professor who teaches that class. Friends? I barely have any to begin with, and the ones I made would eventually forget me. My parents? Rock relationship, even more so when I had a breakdown and they called in the middle of it and I lied* about it.

*Unfortunately they saw through my bullshit. I haven’t spoken to them since. I’m already ashamed of trying to hide crying over the phone.

The world is tiring. It’s getting expensive to just stay alive; food’s expensive as hell, healthcare is expensive as hell. I had to quit my job because I couldn’t handle juggling school and work at the same time so I have to rely on my parents. I already feel weak and pathetic, I won’t be able to graduate this semester like I told my parents; I want to curl up and die at this point. I’m so sick of having to make the first move; I’m so sick of it. I’m so sick of having to be the one to reach out, of having to shout into the void and getting no response. I’m tired of having to build up friendships only for it to crumble in an instant. I’m tired. I’m tired and people don’t understand that.

They say they do, but do they really? People can see the world in pastel or bright over saturated colors or blinding neon fucking lights but all I see. All I see is this sick despairing monotone with the edges of black slowly seeping in to my eyes and soul, coloring my once bright soul and snuffing what little passion I had. Just. Smashing it into a fine powder in front of my eyes. I wonder if selling my soul to the devil was better than having no soul at all; at least the devil would be there to get me some help. Unfortunately we live in a reality where there’s no happy endings, only mediocre contentment. No one wins and everyone loses.

Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever get to die on my own terms. I’m a coward. I’ll just—wither away until the only thing left of me is a soulless husk either with my heart beating…or stopping at a standstill.

I’m tired.

I wish people would let me go.

#swing.mp3 (Writings)#please heed the content warnings i wouldn't say it's gnarly but yk #i shared this with my class and they liked it somehow

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fairestwriting · 3 years ago

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Oh heck no- I'm not gonna let my sleepy prince suffer from hanahaki! Can I ask for a continuation of those headcanons except with a fem! crush who saves Silver with a true loves kiss please because she absolutely refuses to let him die? Thank you!

anons referring to this post here! heres your happy ending <3

Silver

At a certain point, it gets hard to just brush off the visible deterioration of Silver's health as something not worth worrying about, you didn't want to smother him so you just gave him space while trying to advise him to take care to the best of your abilities, but this was too much.

He'd been looking pale and exhausted lately, just weak. You knew Silver was often drowsy, but he never looked like this, so sickly. Meeting your limit, you go all the way to Diasomnia to ask him about just what the hell was going on, determined to be pushy if he avoided the questions, but when you open the door to Silver's room you catch him coughing up a storm, full on choking.

You rush to ask him what's going on, terrified, but when he spits out a flurry of white, red-stained petals you know what it was. That disease you'd read about in fiction, manifestating in the one guy at school who was the most important person to you -- Voice trembling, you ask him who did that to him.

Silver just says it's someone important to him -- In a bit of delirium from the sickness, he gets a hazy smile as he mutters about his acceptance of the illness being a form of devotion. You don't know what to say, you'd loved him for months now, and listening to that just breaks your heart.

He looks into his eyes for a wordless moment, like he had something to say, before he weakly confesses that it's you. He says he knows it's happening because you don't love him back, and reiterates that acceptance, and your eyes widen. How could he say something like this? Why is it happening when I love him too?

The despair grows so much you're not sure you could convey your thoughts with words, so delicately, you cup Silver's face, looking into his eyes before you kiss him -- And you hope that's enough, that he'll be okay. But I love you too, you tell him, so it doesn't have to end like this.

if you wanna support my work, you can buy me a ko-fi or commission me!

#twst #twisted wonderland #disney twst #disney twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst headcanons #twst imagines #silver twst #silver x reader #lis writing

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moquall · 7 years ago

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Episode Prompto’s new trailer

REJOICE !!! AND HYPE METER TO THE MAX

WE GOT THAT TRAIN SCENE FROM PROMPTO’S POV

ARANEA AS GUEST MEMBER (I AM CRYING BECAUSE PROMPTO AND ARANEA ARE MY FAVORITE LOL I AM SO HAPPY)

PROMPTO’S CONFRONTATION WITH VERSTAEL

ALSO PROMPTO HAVING AN ‘ILLUSION’ OF NOCTIS WANTED TO KILL HIM BECAUSE HE IS MT (Not really sure if this is really his illusion or Ardyn disguise as Noct. )

#ffxv #episode prompto #prompto argentum #final fantasy xv #ff series #oh shit my hype meter ><#ffxv spoilers #this trailers wake me up lol i am so sleepy before XD #actually want to hear the japanese version i am sure i am going to get a despair disease lol :v

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echonk3 · 3 years ago

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Pregame V3 headcanons

this is basically me infodumping my V3 pregames in a fic i sporadically work on whenever i feel like it

Rantaro Amami: -confirmed to be the Ultimate Adventurer in season 52 -first joined when he was 12 due to curiosity and riches without knowing the full risk (worst mistake of his life) -loaded due to winning so many games -he's been in four other games and 52 was promised to be his last one with his contract expiring but they continued it due to the ending -he knew Tsumugi from before -lonely -fell out of contact with other survivors, especially with some leaving him behind due to the trauma (he doesn't blame them) -def has PTSD from all the games -lives alone (his parents died during the second game) -has a shitton of guilt :( -couldn't give too much info in the survivor video so he was forced to say he wanted to join -misses his parents -hangs out in trees a lot (less likely to be spotted) -tries to hide it but he's scared of like so many things -doesn't want to lose any more friends -will occasionally go out in an outfit similar to the local school uniform to aid blending in plus he just likes it -pretty similar to his ingame counterpart -quieter tho -great investigation and planning skills -will commonly wear a hood and sunglasses in public to hide his face -tad bit awkward -good cook -has a garden -likes nice peaceful video games -protag of S52 -the team kept wanting him back because he kept surviving and due to the contract they were allowed to do so -okay so first game (Age: 12): Ultimate Lucky Student later revealed to be the mastermind. He goes through the usual mastermind punishment but manages to survive. none of the other survivors want anything to do with him. one of the people in that games is Ultimate Electrician (Ishii Ai she/her) who was executed. second game (just turned 13): Ultimate Despair/Ultimate Lucky Student brought back by popular demand. helps take down that game's mastermind but interfered with some of the game for despair. third game (age 14): amnesiac with the Ultimate ??? and later learns about his past two games and who he really is. fourth game (age 15): brought back as the Ultimate Short Story Writer. killed somebody in chapter 4 and got away with it, killing the others in the process. the only reason he was in this game is because they needed to help hype up this season so may as well cause some speculation with him, plus they needed another person. cue the 52nd game and shit Kaede Akamatsu: -Negative about life -Kinda terrible when it comes to playing the piano -has no faith in humanity -smart af -will not take any shit from anybody -brutally honest -joined due to her love of the series and having no faith in humanity ("we're just gonna die anyways") Ryoma Hoshi: -has a sister named Kyo who was extremely sick -pretty chill and laidback -isn't competitive -works a load to get the money for his sister -would go to the ends of the Earth for his family -wants a cat but can't afford it :( -sister has a genetic disease called Peaceful Parasite, causing some amnesia, sleepiness, blurred vision, and cough which can lead to coughing up blood in later stages and is fatal if left untreated. it can be treated in it's early stages but due to its rareness and specific ingredients, the medicine is expensive. the stages progress slowly, causing a slow but mainly peaceful death (made this illness up) -joined Danganronpa for the money to help his sister -he didn't care what Ultimate he got Kirumi Tojo: -a tad bit messy -neglectful household -tea -kinda a gossiper -bored with life -pretty much lives alone -sees her parents like two times a year since they travel the world and make really good money -good cook -the go-to person for gossip -taught herself to sew to fix things -joined Danganronpa due to boredness of the routine Angie Yonaga: -likes to draw -asked for an art talent -prefers the older seasons of the show -shy -quiet -has few friends -tad bit clumsy and has a few band-aids on -joined due to love of the series Tenko Chabashira: -easily manipulated, especially by guys -energetic -a tad bit athletic -def friends with people on sports teams -pretty motivational (like Kaede but much more

energetic) -coffee -from a family that believes you should have both a physical and creative hobby (so like somebody having art and soccer) -Tenko's is working out and martial arts (not a specific type tho) and abstract

art with bright colours to show her emotions -joined Danganronpa to meet cute boys Korekiyo Shinguji: -teacher's pet -fucking smart -best subject is math -also a tad bit lonely due to his sister isolating him so much and moving -joined Danganronpa as a way to become a better person and have enough money for his future -asked for an Ultimate pertaining to a school subject Miu Iruma: -not good grades -still has an interest in machinery -Kaz is her fav character -easily frightened -cool person when befriended -coffee is her lifeblood -easily excited when talking about things she enjoys -joined Danganronpa for her future and love of the series -asked for an Ultimate related to machinery Gonta Gokuhara: -will crush people like bugs -pretty intimidating -will use that to get what he wants -kinda a terrible person -pretty cold towards others -zero social skills -joined to get rich while doing what he does best, crush people like bugs Kokichi Ouma: -is way too honest -good at hiding -shitty parents -has multiple bandages on due to injuries -kinda has a lot of internal rage -not a big fan of Danganronpa -joined Danganronpa to escape Kaito Momota: -an asshole -is good at talking his way out of stuff tho -never had an interest in space -does the shit to feel good about himself -does not deal well with compliments -joined Danganronpa to be rich and famous Tsumugi Shirogane: -was in Danganronpa 51 and 52 -loved killing games and wanted to join 52 and they let her -she turned into what she was from before the killing games, loving them even more despite everything -her punishment was to return and she managed to convince them to let her be the mastermind this time -due to her being the mastermind she's one of the writers for S53 -runs a podcast about the series -head writer for S53 and the one with the biggest influence on choosing who joins Danganronpa K1-B0/Keebo: -created by Team Danganronpa as an audience surrogate -there were a few surveys put out to test him -stereotypical serious robot cause he didn't have his personality yet -feel like Chihiro and Makoto would be his favs -was in the works before S52 was finished Himiko Yumeno: -her parents overwork her -quite monotone -commonly avoids making friends -pretty serious -almost constantly tired to some degree due to the overworking -a bit similar to her ingame counterpart -joined Danganronpa to escape and have enough for her future Maki Harukuwa: -social butterfly of her school -easily trusting -shit when it comes to weapons and fighting -kinda clumsy -pretty friendly and outgoing -joined Danganronpa because she thought it was cool and kinda wanted to be rich Shuichi Saihara: -kinda obsessed with the show but not like,,, you know that obsessive -loved how creative the executions are -always loved the Ultimate Detectives -a tad bit loud but easily flustered -parents play piano but only his mother continued -wears black shoelaces on one foot and white on the other (taken from a tumblr post) -parents are gone a lot due to work, part of the time overseas and other part just at the building -true crime fan def -will criticize others if they make a bad cup of tea -tea -joined Danganronpa due to love of the show

#danganronpa #danganronpa v3 #headcanons #my post

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moonvains · 4 years ago

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How would you feel about writing a Nagito x fem!Reader where he has Hanahaki over her? I’d prefer angst with a happy ending but that’s up to you

Nagito x Fem! Reader - Hanahaki Disease

‘How would you feel about writing a Nagito x fem!reader where he has Hanahaki over her? I’d prefer angst with a happy ending but thats up to you’

Hello Anon !! I absolutely love this request, I feel like theres so much I can do with it y’know? I added my own twist that is very, very angsty, and made me cry once or twice. but hopefully, this happy ending will work in some ways - Mod Mikan

Italics = Flashbacks/Past

Standard = Present Tense

TW for accidental overdose scene and seizures

TW for emetophobia, goes without saying since I’m writing a hanahaki plot!

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It started with the hiccups, small breathy hitches in his chest, that felt like collapsed buildings and porcelain shards, it stung his throat. Nagito, most very naive, thought almost nothing of it at first. That changed, when he sat heaving and coughing over the fancy porcelain toilet at hopes peak.

As he sat there on his knees, sweat dripping from his head, a pain in his cheek and sticky palms wiped onto his dress pants, he cursed himself with his luck.

It could be worse, just a stomach bug, my luck has obviously changed..

That is what he thought, or maybe wanted to think. A thought deeply embedded into his frail mind every time there is a mild convenience burdening his way. Its just my luck.

Though, as he looked up, green eyes glossing over what would usually be a nasty sight of a quick snack.

Nagito saw flowers, ethereal, magenta roses, dainty petunias and elegant dandelions, floating in the water below him, almost as if they were dancing.

Once again, his breath hitched, though he wasn’t sure if it was from whatever this was. This wasn’t his luck, this wasn’t despair, this wasn’t hope. This was plain, lonely, one sided symptoms of something so delicate, something so sad.

Nagito met you on a summer day, a cool breeze blowing, his hair stuck to his lips like glue. Ultimate luck he guessed. The rest wasn’t important, it was forgotten, and it was irrelevant and it was stupid.

stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid

Nagito was stupid from the moment he ran into you, from the moment he brushed his lips against yours, and from the moment he looked into your eyes. he was stupid.

Stupid to think he, a disappointment, a burden, would ever be graced with something as angelic, gentle and kindhearted as you. He was right, he was really stupid.

It all made sense after you were taken away. The words still rang in his head, quite frequently

Nagito yawned, for a day where he had almost nothing to do, he was quite sleepy. He sat in class 1-A, it was Friday “study” period for class 77-B. Usually you would sit next to him or sleep on his shoulder, or maybe play video games with Chiaki. Though this time you were sick with a bad case of the flu, and he was bored shitless. He blew his hair off his face, only to watch it float back down, then he’d blow it up again.

This went on for about 15 minutes until he got a call, he wishes he didn’t get it, though knows if he didn’t pick up, it would’ve been worse.

“Nagito.. I think I messed up”, your words were slurred, hiccuping and teary.

He knew immediately something bad had happened, he would tell in the way his stomach dropped, and the uneasy anxiousness took over his body.

“Can you please come back to my house, its only me here, I need help”.

Nagito didn’t have to think twice, he ran to your house in a sprint. he didn’t know what was going on, nor what had taken place. Though with the urgency in your house, and the way you sounded off the edge of reality, he knew it was bad.

He didn’t think it would be this bad, he didn’t think it would be his fault, But it was, thats how luck works.

He walked into your house, door unlocked, the air smelt musty and there was silence apart from a dripping tap and muffled crying, it’s not hard to guess which one he went running too.

He ran into the living room to find you on the floor in a ball, your lips were blue, skin pale and eyes wider than they’d ever been before.

“Please just help me”, you sobbed. “I didn’t mean to do this”

Nagito clenched his fists while he sat, flashbacks of what happened circled through his mind. the bathroom floor was cold but his hands felt hot. He didn’t want to admit it, but this was a long time coming.

Hanahaki disease, one sided love huh? I guess it is one sided to love someone nonexistent. What hurt the most is that there was no recovering, the cure stems from the love being returned. There is no love from six feet underground, only worms, maggots and empty promises.

Eyes clenched shut, Nagito held your hair back as you expelled whatever was left in your stomach, he hated that you were in pain, there was yet to be an explanation of what was happening. Walking in only to find his lover sprawled out of the floor, crying slurred nothings before vomiting all over the carpet.

“I..I”

“Speak slowly my love, whats happened?’

“I took a handful of those herbal flu pills you left out on the counter this morning, I figured because they were plant based ”

Thats right, Nagito thought, he left his medication on the counter this morning after staying the night.

his medication on the counter

not herbal pills

a handful of Prozac 50mg capsules

he felt his heart stop

his mind searched for the side affect panel on the pamphlet when he first started taking them

strange dreams, dry mouth, decreased appetite

he remembered the second page

signs of overdose:

dilated pupils, seizures, nausea and vomiting, respiratory issues, fast heart rate and oh my god what the fuck have I done

Mind racing, hands trembling, Nagito held you close, there wasn’t time to explain, thats it, there wasn't time. His hands fumbled for his phone, holding sobs back listening to the operator instruct him to position your barely conscious body into a position seizure friendly.

Cries and mumbled words of “what have i done” escaped from his mouth as he laid you on your side, his school bag under your head and floor cleared from anything potentially dangerous. He sat there, on the floor, holding his chest sobbing, waiting for the ambulance

(Authors note ! DONT use this as a guide to help someone having a seizure or overdose, this is simply from some googling and own personal experiences, if you suspect someone you know is in danger, get a trsuted adult or medical professional)

Luck is a tricky thing, bad luck, good luck, there is a spectrum. Usually someone lives out their life on a scaled ratio of luck, some have unfortunate luck, some have spectacular luck. Though there are the unfortunate few that lie on the sidelines. Their luck a forceful rollercoaster of up and downs, tragedies and utter miracles.

The past couple of months in Nagitos life was a tragedy, who knew the dip of the rollercoaster could cost him so very much of what made him whole.

As he sat there, the cold tile floor providing comfort for his aching palms, he remembered the paramedics, pathetically inserting a needle in your arm and calling it a day.

“We couldn’t save her, our deepest apologies”

He was angry, he knew you were gone from the moment your eyes rolled back and you lost control of your muscles, he could only sit there and scream.

But if they tried? At least do you decency? Not just act like you were another statistic is their salary, a teenager making a stupid decision.

Your parents were called, the room cleaned, and you were gone, that was it. The relationship you and Nagito held for two years crumbled. gone, as simple as that.

The white haired boy turned up to school the next day, face hollowed out with utter despair, eyes puffy and hair matted. He simply couldn’t deal with being alone, god knows what would’ve happened.

He reluctantly walked into homeroom, Miss Yukizome stationed at her desk with her almost programmed smile “Goodmorning Komaeda! I’m so glad youre joining us for another wonderful day!”

Another wonderful day? Another wonderful day watching the love of your life dying on her living room floor, loosing all control of her body and all you can do is sit there and tell her you love her, praying to all gods above she can hear it? Or Another wonderful day of crying and screaming yourself to sleep? ripping and smashing all the memories you have together in a pile because thats better than sleeping in a comfortable bed knowing she is on a plate of steel in the morgue?

Nagito kept his thoughts to himself, god knows he would probably get sent to a psychiatry institution if he spoke what was really on his mind.

With that, he sat down, eyes at the blank blackboard, fingers tapping at his desk, holding back tears that were already cried.

“Komaeda, you look like you’ve seen a ghost!” Teruteru exclaimed as he entered the classroom

“I wish I had”

He put his head on his desk, talking he couldn’t make out among his classmates filled his ears, he wanted quiet, ‘I wonder if she got quiet?’

Was there an afterlife? Or just a void of empty words and unfinished business. he wouldn’t know unless he experiences it himself, sooner or later.

“Okay class, try and get in some work today okay! I know you can do it” Miss Yukizome sung.

“Komaeda, can you get out of y/n’s seat, she should be coming in soon, hm?”

He didn’t even realise he was sitting in her seat, he was used to sitting at her desk with her, helping her with her work, playing with her hair and just enjoying the company of each other.

“No”, Nagito replied, fast and cold. It was strange for him to act this way, sure, he had a very valid excuse. Though it was unknown territory for the rest of the class.

“Oh no, has she still got that nasty flu? I hope you don’t catch it my dear boy”.

“No”, again, the same, the class had quieted down, he was usually so cheery, so full of hope and adoration for every single one of them.

“Well send my love to her, It’ll be great to see her again when I can” She smiled, completely oblivious.

“You can, the 18th, its an open casket’, Nagito grinned at her, a grin of something so far away from happiness, it reminded Yukizome of a clown, so creepy, yet so theoretically happy.

Everyones faces dropped

Nagito got up from the bathroom floor, this had happened weeks ago, but felt like minutes ago. He waited, and eventually, it stopped.

He walked back to class, the heels of his shoes tapping the hardwood floor of the hall leading up to his classroom. he entered solemnly, like he has every day since then.

Everyones faces dropped

Yet again.

Nagito knew what they were staring at, he didn’t want to address it, but he knew.

On his cheek grew a rose, sprouting at the top of his lip to the bottom of his cheekbone. For such a tragic disease, it was quite beautiful.

For such a tragic event, it felt so beautiful

God okay this was sad and a bit quick, I really did try to do a happy ending, though sometimes, for stories like this, I think it is a little to cliché, Stay safe everyone ! I hope you like this <3

#danganronpa #dr1 #imagines #sdr2 #whump #anime #nagito #nagito komaeda #komaeda #nagito imagines #danganronpa 2 #super danganronpa goodbye despair #goodbye despair #hanahaki disease #hanahaki

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twoidiotwriters1 · 4 years ago

Text

Written In The Stars XLV (Harry Potter xF!Oc)

A/N: Poor kids, they’re not so little anymore.

Words: 2,707

Warnings: Mentions of period (as in menstruation)

Series’ Masterlist

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Chapter Four: Back In The Routine.

The days passed and they finished packing.

Mel tried several times to get an answer from her uncle about where he was going, but he would change the subject just as fast.

She was worried, to say the least. If he moved even further away that'd be problematic for Mel and her mother. Considering how often her uncle gets sick, it was almost bound to be tricky, and now that she was attending Hogwarts, the chances of helping were slim.

Her uncle didn't seem to be thinking about that though, he did act nervous, and Mel had noticed he'd started to read magical books more than usual, most of them about creatures and curses and all that. She wondered if he was thinking of going on some kind of dangerous trip. Either way, it was time to say goodbye, and Mel knew she wouldn't be seeing him for a while, maybe until next summer.

She was getting ready to bed when something felt odd. She'd been feeling uneasy the whole day, but thought it was just the nerves and excitement of seeing her friends again. Thinking that maybe she'd gotten sick, the girl got out of her room and into the bathroom.

It was worse, way worse than she'd thought it would be.

Mel had gotten her period.

"Oh no," She breathed, "no no no no no no..."

A knock startled her.

"Yes?" She said in a high-pitched voice.

"Is everything alright?" Uncle Lu asked, "You've been there for a while–"

"I need Mum," She said, "I'm- I'm having a bit of uh... I got my... I'm bleeding?"

There was a deafening silence after her sentence. After what felt like decades to her, Uncle Lu finally spoke up.

He cleared his throat, "I'll call her. You... you wait here..."

She was still a little girl... Okay not that little, but she was a girl! Girls didn't have periods!

Or did they?

"Love?" Her mother called softly through the door, "Can I open the door?"

After a short confirmation, the door clicked and her mother entered holding a small package of something she recognized immediately. Mel started to cry.

"S'not fair!" She sniffed, "I don't like how it feels!"

"Oh, darling..." Her mother kneeled beside her, stroking her back. "I know is not nice, but it'll pass..."

"I don't want it!" She continued, "There has to be some magical fix that you can give me!"

"There is," Her mother grimace, "but I can't give it to you, this is the first time, you have to let it happen–"

"Why?! It sucks!" She didn't know why she was so affected about it, as if the worst of diseases had fallen upon her.

"It could damage your body if you cut it out so soon..." her mother cleared her throat, clearly uncomfortable, "I don't know if you'll want babies, but it's better to have all the options than having none, right?"

"Babies?!" She said with horror, "I am a baby! I don't even know if I'll want to date!"

Emily's lip quivered, but it was hard to tell if it was because she was holding her laughter, or if she was just as affected as the girl.

"I don't want you to grow up either, Mel. But it looks like your body has a different idea."

Mel leaned back on the toilet, looking up at the ceiling in total despair.

"This is it. The boys will know."

Her mother laughed.

"They won't. But who cares, anyway?"

"I do!" She frowned. "And I'll have to deal with this nonsense! How long 'till I can take something to make it stop?"

"A year," Her mother said, preparing for impact.

"A YEAR?!"

"Shh! Mel, you'll scare your uncle!"

"A year," She repeated, "oh, bloody- I mean... this is going to be a horrible year."

Once she was tucked in bed, sad as ever, her uncle sneaked inside her room, holding a cup of something.

"Chocolate," He said simply, before leaving again, "drink it, it'll help."

She stayed silent for most of the trip, sleepy and soar, didn't want to talk about it. It was sad to leave her uncle like this, but she hoped he understood, Mel was growing against her will.

When they arrived at the leaky cauldron, Mel wanted nothing but to take a nap for the rest of the week, but she soon forgot about it when Harry walked down the stairs, probably about to go shopping.

She dropped her luggage in surprise, the noise catching his attention.

"Glasses!" She rushed over to the boy. "How've you been? Did you miss us lots?"

Harry chuckled as he returned the hug.

"I've been busy... How was your break from my annoying face and all?"

"It... went well, most of it anyway," She shrugged, deciding she wouldn't say a thing to Harry about her new burden. "Are you going to Diagon Alley? Mum! Can I go?"

Emily approached the kids, giving Harry a quick kiss and hug before replying.

"Just try to get here before dinner, I'll take the things to our room..."

Both kids went to the back door and pressed the third brick on the wall.

"There's a new broom," Harry started, practically dragging her to the store, "you ought to see it, I want to ask about the price but I won't dare, I have my nimbus after all, but it's just... you need to see it."

They stopped at the shopfront, Harry pointed eagerly to the broom facing them.

Mel gasped when she saw it. It was truly impressive, the way the wood and every little branch was shaped so perfectly. Its name was Firebolt, and Mel loved it.

"Woah..." She leaned closer, it looked like she was trying to go through the glass, "should we ask? Just to know- I know I wouldn't be able to afford it... not that I need it since I'm not on the team but... wow"

"I know," Harry agreed.

"Harry! Mel! HARRY!" A voice called from a few feet away.

Sitting outside Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor, were Ron and Hermione, both waving at them.

"Finally!" said Ron once they approached them. "We went to the Leaky Cauldron, but they said you'd left, and we went to Flourish and Blotts, and Madam Malkin's, and —"

"I got all my school stuff last week," Harry explained. "And how come you knew I'm staying at the Leaky Cauldron?"

"You didn't tell them?" Mel frowned.

Harry seemed taken by surprise by her question.

"I only told you..."

"Dad told me," Ron replied casually.

"Did you really blow up your aunt, Harry?" said Hermione seriously.

"I didn't mean to," said Harry while Ron and Mel laughed. "I just — lost control."

"It's not funny," said Hermione sharply. "Honestly, I'm amazed Harry wasn't expelled."

"Oh, I am too," Mel nodded.

"So am I," admitted Harry. "Forget expelled, I thought I was going to be arrested." He looked at Ron. "Your dad doesn't know why Fudge let me off, does he?"

"Probably 'cause it's you, isn't it?" Ron chuckled. "Famous Harry Potter and all that. I'd hate to see what the Ministry'd do to me if I blew up an aunt. Mind you, they'd have to dig me up first, because Mum would've killed me. Anyway, you can ask Dad yourself this evening. We're staying at the Leaky Cauldron tonight too! So you can come to King's Cross with us tomorrow! Hermione's there as well!"

"Mum and Dad dropped me off this morning with all my Hogwarts things."

"Excellent!" said Harry. "So, have you got all your new books and stuff?"

"Look at this," said Ron, pulling a long thin box. "Brand-new wand. Fourteen inches, willow, containing one unicorn tail-hair. And we've got all our books —" He pointed at a large bag under his chair. "What about those Monster Books, eh? The assistant nearly cried when we said we wanted two."

"What's all that, Hermione?" Harry asked. Hermione had three full bags of books.

"Well, I'm taking more new subjects than you, aren't I?" said Hermione. "Those are my books for Arithmancy, Care of Magical Creatures, Divination, the Study of Ancient Runes, Muggle Studies —"

"What are you doing Muggle Studies for?" said Ron, rolling his eyes. "You're Muggle-born! Your mum and dad are Muggles! You already know all about Muggles!"

"But it'll be fascinating to study them from the wizarding point of view," said Hermione.

"Are you planning to eat or sleep at all this year, Hermione?" asked Harry.

Ron laughed. Hermione ignored them.

"I've still got ten Galleons," she said. "It's my birthday in September, and Mum and Dad gave me some money to get myself an early birthday present."

"How about a nice book?" Ron asked innocently.

"No, I don't think so," said Hermione. "I really want an owl. I mean, Harry's got Hedwig and you've got Errol —"

"I haven't," said Ron. "Errol's a family owl. All I've got is Scabbers. And I want to get him checked over," he placed Scabbers on the table. "I don't think Egypt agreed with him."

"Poor thing," Mel mumbled, then added, "I need to buy my stuff too, just got here from visiting my uncle..."

"There's a magical creature shop just over there," said Harry, pointing to his left. "You could see if they've got anything for Scabbers, and Hermione can get her owl. Then we can get your stuff, Mel."

"Well, if you don't want a replacement, you can try this rat tonic," said the witch, reaching under the counter and bringing out a small red bottle.

"Okay," said Ron. "How much — OUCH!"

Ron buckled as something huge and orange came soaring from the top of the highest cage, landed on his head, and then propelled itself, spitting madly, at Scabbers.

"NO, CROOKSHANKS, NO!" cried the witch, but Scabbers shot from between her hands like a bar of soap, landed splay-legged on the floor, and then scampered for the door.

"Scabbers!" Ron shouted, racing out of the shop after him; Harry followed.

"How pretty!" Hermione approached the cat as the boys ran out of the store.

"Uh-oh," Mel whispered, "Mione, are you sure?"

"Crookshanks has been here for ages, you know," The witch lamented, "he's got an awful temper, that's why..."

"Has he?" Hermione asked, deeply touched, "but is he in for adoption?"

"Yes," The woman said with hopeful eyes. "Are you interested?"

"I am," Hermione beamed.

"Mione," Mel said with caution, "that cat went straight for Ron's throat."

"He just got excited," Hermione brushed off, "I'll take him."

"You bought that monster?" said Ron, his mouth hanging open.

"He's gorgeous, isn't he?" said Hermione, glowing.

"Hermione, that thing nearly scalped me!" said Ron.

"He didn't mean to, did you, Crookshanks?" said Hermione.

The cat purred happily in her arms.

"At least Grey will have some company now," Mel added.

"And what about Scabbers?" said Ron. "He needs rest and relaxation! How's he going to get it with that thing around?"

"That reminds me, you forgot your rat tonic. And stop worrying, Crookshanks will be sleeping in my dormitory and Scabbers in yours, what's the problem? Poor Crookshanks, that witch said he'd been in there for ages; no one wanted him." She said as she offered the tonic to Ron.

"I wonder why," said Ron sarcastically.

"Let's move on," Mel pushed him away from the girl, "I got some shopping to do..."

"Harry! Mel!" Mr. Weasley said as they entered the leaky cauldron. "How are you?"

"Fine, thanks," said Harry.

"How are you?" Mel asked politely.

Mr. Weasley put down his paper, Harry spoke up before the man could reply.

"They still haven't caught him, then?" he asked, pointing at the picture in the Daily Prophet. Sirius Black.

"Hey!" Mel's eyes widened. "That guy was on the telly!"

"Well of course he is," Ron rolled his eyes. "He's just as dangerous to muggles as he is to us."

"Who is he?"

"He's a murderer!" Ron replied eagerly. "Quite crazy, they said they killed about ten–"

"No," said Mr. Weasley, interrupting his son and giving him a severe look. "They've pulled us all off our regular jobs at the Ministry to try and find him, but no luck so far."

"Would we get a reward if we caught him?" asked Ron. "It'd be good to get some more money —"

"Don't be ridiculous, Ron," said Mr. Weasley. "Black's not going to be caught by a thirteen-year-old wizard. It's the Azkaban guards who'll get him back, you mark my words."

Mrs. Weasley got inside the place, followed by the rest of her children. Ginny, as usual, got very red when she saw Harry, barely capable of muttering just a greeting. Percy, however, was outdoing himself.

"Harry. How nice to see you." Percy shook his hand with utter formality.

"Hello, Percy," said Harry, glancing at Mel and trying not to laugh.

"I hope you're well?" said Percy still on the same tone.

"Very well, thanks —"

"Harry!" said Fred, elbowing Percy out of the way and bowing deeply. "Simply splendid to see you, old boy —"

"Marvelous," said George, pushing Fred aside and seizing Harry's hand in turn. "Absolutely spiffing."

Percy scowled.

"That's enough, now," said Mrs. Weasley.

"Mum!" said Fred as though he'd only just spotted her and seizing her hand too. "How really corking to see you —"

"I said, that's enough," said Mrs. Weasley, depositing her shopping in an empty chair.

Mel laughed, unable to stay quiet any longer. The twins noticed her presence and dropped the act, ruffling her hair in their normal attitude. She hugged both of the boys, truly happy to see them again.

"Hello, dears. I suppose you've heard our exciting news?" Mrs. Weasley pointed to the brand-new silver badge on Percy's chest. "Second Head Boy in the family!"

"And last," Fred muttered to Mel, though he did it loudly enough for his mother to hear.

"I don't doubt that," said Mrs. Weasley. "I notice they haven't made you two prefects."

"What do we want to be prefects for?" said George, snorting. "It'd take all the fun out of life."

"Besides, you'd have to punish yourselves all the time," Mel teased.

"You want to set a better example for your sister!" snapped Mrs. Weasley.

"Ginny's got other brothers to set her an example, Mother," said Percy. "I'm going up to change for dinner..."

As he left the room, George added. "We tried to shut him in a pyramid, but Mum spotted us."

"Pitty," Mel rolled her eyes, but grinned anyway. "I bet Egypt was fun..."

"We got so many new ideas!" Fred replied, putting an arm around her shoulders and guiding her towards the stairs, "Hear us out..."

"I don't want any part on it, just to set things clear," Mel shook her head, "I'm starting new this year! I told you Dumbledore offered to give me extra lessons? I can't set a bad example now!"

"Oh, don't be dull," George scoffed, "don't tell us you're planning to be Head Girl or something..."

"Maybe," She shrugged, "I told you, you can't judge people just because they don't have the same goals..."

"Well, that's just a terrible idea," Fred shook his head, "A Head Girl! Think of all the possibilities you're throwing out! Behaving like a good student won't leave enough fun memories for when you grow up."

"Yeah, what're you going to tell your kids?" George inquired. "All your stories will be about your study sessions and the grades you got– That's boring."

"I don't know if I want kids!" Mel snapped, her talk with her mother coming back in full force.

"Don't upset her," Ginny had followed them upstairs, she managed to push her way in between George and Mel, and was now grabbing her arm, pulling her away from Fred's grip. "It's my turn to talk to her, go away!"

"You saw that?" Fred said with wide eyes, "The disrespect!"

"You give them freedom and this is how they pay you," George shook his head, "okay then, we'll leave you..."

"Come on," Ginny said to her with excitement, "I'll show you all I got from Egypt!"

Next Chapter —>

Taglist.

@tiphareth2018 @vampiregirl1797 @siriuslysirius1107 @celestialhayi @mikariell95 @omiwashere @thesuitelifeofafangirl @kylosleftbuttcheek @steve-thotgers @tomshollandz @reverse-hxlland

#twoidiots writing #hp fanfic #Harry Potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter xoc #ron weasley #hermione granger #ginny weasley #fred weasley #george weasley #WITT fic

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some-creep · 5 years ago

Text

CREEP RANKS EVERY SONG IN NIER... AUTOMATA (mostly) BY TITLE

Because, like, no one played Gestalt. Also this game has more songs.

Significance Like. I guess. It’s a title you can use. What is significant? We don’t know. The characters don’t know. They are struggling to find out. We all are. What is meaning? What really matters? I don’t know but we’re all crying. 8/10

City Ruins – Rays of Light / Shade Plays in the ruins of the city. Exactly as advertised. Sounds sad like you might imagine. 9/10

Peaceful Sleep This is the Resistance camp right? Peaceful things don’t tend to happen there honestly. At least not as we keep going. Sounds like a sleepy JRPG town though. Ok title for the mood it gives. I like this song a lot so I’m cheating and giving it more points than I know it deserves as just, like, a title. 8/10

Memories of Dust Sand is dusty. What memories? We’re making them. Cool title. Sounds like a YA novel though. 9/10

Birth of a Wish Genuinely often get confused with the Silent Hill 2 bonus story Born from a Wish whenever I try to remember what this song is called. This Cannot Continue / 10

The Color of Depression This is like… a really cool title. Thanks. That Scanner boy is not gonna live the happy family life you all for some reason keep suggesting he is. Bad things are gonna happen to him. He dies anyway. 11/10

Amusement Park Yeah. I guess. We certainly are in the amusement park level. Creep why does this one rank so much lower than City Ruins which was also just “name of location”. Amusement park is not a cool title. City Ruins is a cool title. 7/10

A Beautiful Song Would you say Simone has girlpower? Would you say Simone successfully used her girlpower to kill and consume countless androids and also turn them into near lifeless weapons and body jewelry? 9/10

Voice of No Return Sad title. Sad song. Exactly as advertised once again. I feel sad listening to the Automata OST most of the time. Is this quest complete in the camp? I think so. Anyway it’s really sad. I love to cry. 11/10

Grandma – Destruction Um so this is like. Genuinely a horrible title. It reminds me of the title of a darkweb video which I will say no more on. This song is REALLY good its a shame this title is so… uh. Bad. It’s just bad. 1/10

Faltering Prayer – Dawn Breeze / Starry Sky This is another really cool title. This game is about like… life after god. I’m not here to get thematic. I say in a list entirely about if the song fits the theme. Anyway this is a cool title. The song again… sounds sad. One of them is a music box which I love. Cheating again. 10/10

Emil’s Shop EVERY DAY’S A SALE. EVERY SALE’S A WIN. 12/10!!

Treasured Times The fact this plays after Emil’s shop on the OST is the biggest tonal whiplash in the world. This song makes me feel an emotion I cannot describe. It’s something like sadness but not quite. This isn’t a review of the songs, just the title. But reading the title makes me feel that emotion too but stronger when I think about it. I don’t know. 9/10

Vague Hope – Cold Rain / Spring Rain Good title… Thematically very appropriate. Not COOL like some of the others but it feels right feels canon. I like it. It’s just the city ruins quest complete song but it also plays in one of the fucking… DLC fights. That makes me extra sad. 10/10

End of the Unknown Which unknown was ended. Genuinely think when this plays I had more unknowns than knowns. This song sounds like every song from the Gestalt DLC. 6/10.

Pascal At least Automata has far fewer “named after a character” songs. They just have named after a place songs. I love Pascal so if I give this a low score he might be upset. 8/10

Forest Kingdom It really… the forest huh. Random but one of the songs in Code Vein does a vocal thing that always reminds me of this song for some reason. That has nothing to do with this game or this songs title at all I just wanted to tell you. Long Live The Forest King / 10

Dark Colossus – Kaiju This song is also in Gestalt. It’s cooler here. More stakes. Song title suggests less stakes though? That’s kinda weird. Because of this it loses points. I’m sorry. 7/10

Copied City Dude I left this one off the list when I first typed it out lol. Someone not to @ anyone told me this was based on Nier’s village. Lie to me again. I don’t know what City is being Copied. One of them. It reminds me more of the Cathedral City from DoD3. Which is a bad horrible game that I completed 100%. 8/10

Wretched Weaponry Not to be confused with Wretched Automatons. Is this like, a remix? My ears don’t work so I don’t know. Don’t inform me because I love being stupid. Anyway, in the narrative it makes sense. It’s a good, cool title. Song is softer than the title would suggest. 9/10

Possessed by Disease COOL SONG TITLE. Thank you. This plays… somewhere. Uh. Hm. I’ve 100% completed this game like three times. 9/10

Broken Heart You think you’re gonna hear a sad song? SURPRISE. Sinister as hellllll. Subverted expectations baby. MCU take notes. I’ve never seen a movie in the MCU. Loving the dark tones in this. Broken heart but the emotion isn’t just sad. GOOD STUFF. 10/10

Mourning Again. You think it’s gonna be sad? But BOOM. It isn’t. I mean it still is, but in a dark way. These aren’t song reviews. These are title reviews. But if a title suggests one thing and delivers another that’s still a valid point right? I don’t know. Hey wait isn’t this just Shadowlord’s Castle? Yonah / 10

Dependent Weakling Well, it’s no Song of the Ancients – Fate, but it’ll do. In all seriousness, this is like, a great song title for Eve’s boss battle. Y’know, because he relied so heavily on Adam and all’a that. Maybe a little on the nose. Maybe a little rude. Eve sucks / 10

Rebirth & Hope Sounds hopeful. Plays during ending A where we see a Rebirth cos 9S super doesn’t die. This song is literally 30 seconds long why am I even bothering. Oh, right, because it’s on the OST at all. 30 second songs / 10

War & War Gentlemen, you can’t fight in here, this is the war room. It… sounds like a war room song. A preparing for a big battle song. Once again, exactly as advertised. Plays before a big battle. It really thematic naming! Peace was never an option. 8/10

Crumbling Lies Words cannot express how much I adore this song. First of all, title is on point. It’s the song that plays when you get to Route C. Literally the moment I fell in love with the game. The Bunker is destroyed, which, again… maybe it’s a bit on the nose. I don’t care. This is the perfect song title to the perfect song. I will die on this hill. 12/10

Widespread Illness Red Eye except it’s robots now. Very thematically appropriate. Everyone is dying. There’s nothing you can do to cure it except kill them. They’re incredibly infectious. Zombie Virus but with Robots. Can you tell I don’t remember what it’s called? I’m writing this at 1am and I’ve decided it’s funnier if I don’t look anything up. Sounds very somber… I like it. 9/10

Fortress of Lies Not to be dramatic but when I read this English title I was like MMMMMMMNNN because like. I get it. It plays in the Bunker. Which… is built on lies. Again. Incredibly on the nose but when I learned what the song was called I just fucking DIED the first time. I’m stupid. I don’t care. 11/10

Song of the Ancients – Atonement Another song I died when I learned the title of. Devola and Popola in that game have nothing to atone for. They are atoning for sing they did not commit. Punished for the crimes of another set of Androids, possibly thousands of miles away. It’s not fair. They have nothing to atone for. They’ve done nothing wrong. 12/10 crying creeps.

Blissful Death FUCK. This one plays in the Devola and Popola like. Text Adventure part. Which is just. I love it so much. No one dies in that though. Well… maybe someone does. It’s not impossible that Popola hurt someone. It’s suggested that, maaaaybe she did. No one stops. No one Stops.

Emil – Despair Emil’s life has quite literally only been despair. Please don’t bully him with your song titles like this… 9/10

Alien Manifestation Vintage meme of that guy from the history channel with the impact font that just says Aliens. This game has aliens, I will give you that. They’re all dead though. I guess the machines are aliens but. Eh. Wait doesn’t this play in the castle? There aren’t even aliens there what the fuck. 5/10

The Tower There’s a tower. This plays there. Thank you. Also the name of a tarot card I think? That could be cool if I knew a single goddamn thing about tarot cards. I don’t. 6/10

Bipolar Nightmare Cool flying section. Has anyone found Grun skip yet? Because the bounty for that was like. A lot of money. Vaguely a cool song title. I kinda like it. Although for some reason it reminds me of The Evil Within’s Japanese title, Psychobreak. So I think I like it less because of that. Not the worst title, but maybe the lowest of the COOL EDGY song titles. Fucking love the piano part in this one though. 7/10

The Sound of the End Really super cool and sexy song title. 2B is going to die but she can’t let anyone else get hurt because of it. She’s already done so much damage. This song is really dramatic sounding. The title is dramatic. Love this one a lot. The actual playable segment is kind of a struggle. But I think that’s the point… 10/10

Weight of the World / End of YoRHa I once got into an internet fight because I said this song is about every character except 9S because of the line “I’m only one girl”. I was corrected that the Japanese version is basically EXCLUSIVELY about 9S. None of this is relevant at all I just wanted to remember it. I still do not like 9S. Thematically a brilliant title. Everyone feels like they must do so much… but you cannot bear the weight of the world alone. Ending E legitimately makes me cry. Whenever I think about the messages from other players supporting me? It’s a lot. What the fuck. 12/10

#nier #nier automata #long post #creep ranks

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umbraastaff · 5 years ago

Photo

So I made a series of art pieces based on each song from my John fanmix, Please Lend Me Your Ear.

I also wrote out some additional thoughts on my song choices, in case you’re interested. That’s below the cut!

The Hound and the Fox is about finding the Light, uncovering the conspiracy, and deciding to tell everyone about it. (As a bonus, the sound of the music just feels like a fitting introduction for John, to me.)

Little do they know that any given day I’ll expose all their hypocrisies, express my inner rage

...

And it would blow everybody's mind If they could see just what lies behind The velvet curtain, the office doors They’ve got no choice They’ve got no choice

And then at the end, it swaps out the very last line in the most perfect way possible. Remember the canon parallels made between John’s motivational speaking and the magic in a bard’s song?

I'll give them no choice I've got my voice

Ladies and Gentlemen is, of course, the speech! It’s such an interesting song to me--it has this positive-sounding message, but the music itself almost sounds... menacing? Ominous? It works so well for this.

Ladies and gentlemen it's time For all the good that's in you to shine For all the lights to lose their shade For all the hate that's in you to fade

-says John, and boy, that sounds great, doesn’t it? So good and right, to let this Light (cough) spread and brighten, to unify people for this cause.

Don’t hide anymore, it’s time to be seen, he says. If you can’t live with the truth, go ahead, try and live with a lie!

Everything is Happening is the beginning of the Hunger. It’s the people realizing everything wrong with the world and despairing.

Everything is happening Everything is happening at the same time

There’s also a hint of the speech’s messages still echoing in there, the cause of despair, the frustration with eternity, the lament that existence (as an individual) is terrible;

Oh what about me, yeah what about me What about me and my rock and roll dreams What about them in the factories Who never sleep, who never dream

And, of course, knowing what the Hunger is...

Listen close enough and you'll hear the world cry

Terrible Things is the Hunger coming into its own, gaining confidence, continuing its goals.

We hear this from the Hunger’s perspective, amassing the diverse universes into its own uniform self;

I don't know why but I can see you far away As you grow and change and I stay the same

And we hear John losing his sense of self as part of the Hunger;

Can you feel me melt away? As the colors seem to fade and save the day But I, I'm just like you I've got, got no name at all

And the Hunger believing that their actions are good and right; that it’s absurd that these worlds start out dissenting (after all, they all end up agreeing in the end!) when they’re just here to spread the truth;

The whole world against you You give everything

This song’s also just full of John having the sort of surreal experience of not really being himself anymore;

Maybe I'm just crazy like I got a disease Feels like I died days ago deep in my sleep I'm doing terrible things

(And the Hunger choruses to the worlds they overtake):

Give it up, give it up now!

Do It All The Time is the Hunger at the peak of its confidence! Before the Starblaster was in the picture, nothing threatened its dominance, the spread of its message.

We're taking over the world A little victimless crime And when I'm taking your innocence I'll be corrupting your mind

This bit’s also good--they wouldn’t call them ‘lies,’ of course, but you know. And remember when John talked about how beautiful the Hunger probably looked from outside? Hmm.

It's so fun We're so good at selling lies We look so good And we never even try

And then there’s the Hunger’s assimilation of the worlds and their denizens (and this line makes me laugh, with this context, but y’know)

And then I'm taking your girl And I'm making her mine

still feel. is the parleys. It’s John realizing he’s a person again, after millennia of no sense of self. He couldn’t even talk for a moment in the first parley.

So we have imagery of John’s lack of individuality again, except this time it’s more negatively framed:

When I'm furthest from myself Feeling closer to the stars I've been invaded by the dark Trying to recognize myself when I feel I've been replaced

But he DOES get pulled out, and stay out for these conversations, and he willingly stays removed from the Hunger for periods of talking to this strange, novel person who disagrees with him.

But I can feel a kick down in my soul And it's pulling me back to Earth to let me know I am not a slave, can't be contained So pick me from the dark and pull me from the grave, ‘cause

I still feel alive When it is hopeless, I start to notice And I still feel alive

And John gets SO close to realizing, too! Realizing that he’s wrong, that there’s value in life and the world, that the Hunger is wrong...

Floating in outer space, have I misplaced a part of my soul? Lost in the in-between, or so it seems, I'm out of control

...But he doesn’t. He doesn’t quite get there, and he rejects Merle’s question of friendship before he can truly understand the value of it. (As a bonus, the last line here makes me think of the formation of the Hunger.)

So, when I lose my gravity in this sleepy womb Drifting as I dream, I'll wake up soon To realize the hand of life is reaching out To rid me of my pride, I call allegiance to myself

Vulture, Vulture is the ~30 year period after Merle’s last Stolen Century parley. It’s those years alone with the rest of the Hunger, and that last decade of furious searching for the Light on Faerun.

John is barely able to keep any semblance of individuality in the hateful mass as it continues in its anger;

This is all I know And I can feel it grow I'm restless, oh, I'm restless It's hard for me to breathe

And through it all, with whatever selfhood he has left, John introspects on his interactions with Merle, on himself:

When all I do is feel so heartless Am I heartless?

Then, near the end, John calls Merle into parley from the elevator. For a brief reprieve, he’s free of the Hunger, but it’s fresh on his mind.

He lives in the darkness He's calling my name He's keeping me up, keeping me up I'm wide awake He feeds on my ego He swallows my pain So figure it out, figure it out Stay away

Break the bonds, Merle!

Break me in two so we can both dance Figure it out, figure it out

Goodbye John Smith is the final parley, on the beach.

It’s the end of the fighting:

Battle deep into the night 'Til you leave the center, the shore behind

It’s John’s acceptance:

Hold your head up high You were born too old and are afraid to die 'Cause the light is fading out of your eyes I'll give it all, I'll give it all

Come on feet don't fail me now 'Cause I'll fall too hard if I hit the ground And these worn out souls are all broken now I'll give it all, I'll give it all

It’s John (wordlessly) apologizing, admitting to Merle that he was right to find value in things, and that John did too, in the end:

I'm afraid, I'm afraid, I'm afraid That I'm falling apart If I don't ever see you again, oh Where do I start I'll miss it all I'll miss it all

It’s John mourning the time and experiences that he lost by being arrogant and ignorant for so, so long:

And I'll never know how you made me laugh I'll tell them all, I'll tell them all

It’s Merle’s unspoken, impossible hope:

Hey Hey Hey Hey, come on stay

And it’s their final goodbye:

I'm afraid, I'm afraid, I'm afraid That I'm falling apart If I don't see you ever again I'll be lost in the dark

#the adventure zone #taz balance #stolen century #taz john #merle highchurch #mine #my art #balance #john

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soveryanon · 4 years ago

Text

Reviewing time for MAG174!

- I absolutely ADORED how the sound effects were telling a story by themselves, giving a graduating sense of dread, with variations and quieter moments. With the wind blowing and occasionally howling, getting stronger, almost covering Jon’s voice at some points, it really felt like the sounds were competing with the words to give The Vast’s statement? (And in my mind, it felt like the team of editors competing against Jonny! It was so nice!)

I also loved how the steps of the colossus were adding a bit of pressure and gravitas, both to the statement and to the conversation: the distant low-pitched impact right after Martin’s “Do it.”, asking Jon to smite Simon? It was an easy trick, but it worked SO WELL to highlight the “Oh SHIT” moment! It was more subtle at other points of the arguments, but still reinforcing the feeling, that ideas were violent by themselves while the words were hammered in.

- I reaaaaally liked the tone Jon used in the statement, too, because it was very soft and rhythmic? There wasn’t the edge of cruelty that we had heard in other statements + combined with the fact that the focus wasn’t much on victims-hurting-other-victims-because-forced-by-the-Fear-system this time around, the statement felt more existentialist and overall a bit of a breather, which, ha. Fitting for The Vast, I guess. (Still people suffering, still people in pain, but one of the less upsetting statements this season, for me?)

- A bit surprised that Simon didn’t go for a space-related domain, but this one also made sense given what he had told Martin in season 4:

(MAG151) SIMON: I’ve actually been toying with the idea of trying to do something with the scale of humanity itself; you know, emphasise all that “overpopulation” nonsense, but… honestly, it just… doesn’t ring true for me. We’re all just so tiny and pointless, you see; it’s hard to really get past it. […] Do you know when the last ritual I attempted was? MARTIN: I… I don’t know, that space station? SIMON: Oh goodness no, that’s the future my boy!

Was this domain Ex Altiora made a reality, or it’s “just” that The Vast tends to be a bit less creative – big thing, too big for the human mind to compute, threatening you?

(MAG046, Herbert Knox) “It told the tale of a small, unnamed town high on a clifftop that sees a monstrous creature about to approach. The poem is unclear on whether it is a beast, a demon or a god, as it uses the words interchangeably. It is seen far-off, its head and body lost amongst the clouds. The majority of the story details the villagers’ attempts to prepare to do battle against this creature, but each time they devise a counter-measure, the thing gets closer and is shown to be far larger than previously suspected, rendering their preparation insignificant. At last, when it is almost upon them, its impossible vastness undeniable, the villagers surrendered to despairs, and hurled themselves off the clifftops onto the rocks far below.”

Still laughing a lot that Simon called this one “Junior” (I mean, he was proud of naming his last ritual “The Awful Deep”…).

- It was interesting how both statements dealt with the same situation from different perspectives, and how each related to The Vast? Edward was part of the colossus, Mehreen was watching it approach and threaten to crush her.

Edward was part of the colossus that we could hear since the very beginning (the impact followed by gusts of whistling wind marking the colossus’s footsteps, which were putting a strain on the bodies, including Edward’s, intertwined all through it): he was part of a whole, lost in the whole, in pain and faced with two alternatives (staying there, suffering and submitted to movements he didn’t control, or falling). It was very odd because it felt almost comforting that the other hands brought him back in when he was expelled from the whole since, at that moment, he feared the fall the most (“He is falling, and he is so small, and so afraid he wonders if he will ever hit the ground. He does not want to die smeared over that flat and hateful wasteland far below, and he flails, limbs throwing themselves violently around, trying to catch a hold of something, anything to save himself.”) – it felt like others were… saving him? Helping him? Still leaving him the choice (“Despite his dread, it takes only a moment for him to make his decision: he reaches out with his other arm, and feels it gripped by a dozen hands as, slowly, inexorably, Edward allows himself to be pulled back into the great, suffering colossus.”)? Though in the grand scheme of things, he was still stuck in an unpleasant, excruciating painful situation, but… compared to previous statements, it was still partially on his terms, instead of something that was absolutely inflicted to him with no way out? Amongst the small things that made me go “!”, the “every body” (“Every muscle in every body tenses all at once”): going back to the original meaning of the phrase, with the fact that “everybody” is, at the core of the word, “every body”. I felt like it was working well with the concept of The Vast: the fact that individuals aggregated together form something larger.

For Mehreen’s part: part of the horror, in her case, was that The Vast played on her sense of her responsibility/duty, not only on what would personally happen to her and her only. She was the only one able to take care of her “family” while they had various reactions to it: the daughter (who is helpless), the husband (who is in denial over what’s happening – this one sure hits differently with the current pandemic), and the mother (who is… only “berating” over wrong decisions). But what interests me the most is how she was dealing with memories: we’ve seen in previous statements that people’s memories are a fuzzy thing, twisted and rewritten to further feed the fears. It was obvious with Mehreen’s family (the fear “gave” her people to have to care for, further isolating and crushing her towards the threat), but I find it very interesting that compared to previous domains, she felt… on the verge of awareness about it?

(MAG163) ARCHIVIST: “Next to him, Charlie saw Ryan, who he’d known since childhood – though the other details were hazy. Ryan gave him a thumbs-up and an encouraging smile – before his face exploded inwards to a sniper’s bullet, peppering the boat with shards of bone and gore.”

(MAG164) ARCHIVIST: “There was never a time before the disease, no matter what the old bastards tell you. It has always been in the village, always festered in the dark corners where nobody could stomach to check, where good neighbours wouldn’t dream to speculate.”

(MAG165) ARCHIVIST: “Its pace remaining as it ever was, it does not care for coming pains as you are torn. Doesn’t it know who you are? No… And soon… neither will you. […] You will be someone again, someday. […] “I’m still Hannah!” you try to scream, but are you? No. Perhaps there’s some Veronica as fragments there, or Julian, or Anya, but… no. You feel the last of names and “who” you might have been be torn away and borne towards new bodies. New pages, blank; determined to be people.”

(MAG166) ARCHIVIST: “When had the crushing pressure in his chest become literal? When had the empty promise of the horizon finally vanished completely, replaced by the pitch darkness of this “forever wall of earth”? Sam did not know. Time had no meaning here. […] His existence was static, and eternal. Immutable. “Sleep” was only a memory, because even the prospect of unconsciousness might have made his present state slightly more bearable. Food as well, he knew, must be a thing, for he could feel the hunger, but his imagination failed to picture it. The only smell he knew was the damp, and the dirt.”

(MAG169) ARCHIVIST: “How long as she lived here? How long have these cramped, dingy rooms in the back of this sprawling rundown tenement been the place her heart calls home? She cannot recall, but long enough for her to grow into love for it, to cherish every rusted appliance, every crumbling piece of plasterboard, every – flickering – lightbulb. […] Sabina cannot… picture their faces, but knows that should they wake to see the state of the place… their anger would be blistering. […] What floor was her flat on again? Surely, it can’t be this high. […] Limping and desperate, she turns to see her furniture in flames, the bookshelves full of memories, that she can’t quite place [STATIC RISES] but knows are precious to her, curl and float away as ash. The photos on the wall of her family whose faces seem indistinct but she knows that she loves, begin to blacken, as the glass pops out of the frame.”

(MAG174) ARCHIVIST: “When it had first covered her home, bathing the street beyond her window in unexpected shade, she had thought it an eclipse. There wasn’t supposed to be one then, she is… sure of that – although if pressed, she could not have told you what day it is today. Before the shadow fell, she is sure that the sun was shining brightly – although, if pressed, she could not have pictured it. And the humid heat of a lingering summer had left the world sleepy, and unprepared – although, if pressed, she remembers the heat, but not the season. […] Mehreen cannot quite make out their faces as she bundles them into the car, old and shuddering as it coughs into life. Does she remember having a child? A spouse? Does she remember her mother having such a cruel sneer? It doesn’t matter. They are here now, and she has to save them.”

(+ Martin’s predicament in MAG170, when his memories were escaping him and he was mostly able to remember the painful parts only, or Francis’s “friends and families” being only brought in to deepen their pain. If Martin was any indication: it’s really upon remembering who he truly was and the bits of his life that weren’t unpleasant that he managed to free himself from the house’s influence, enough for Jon to find him and, it seems, give his protection again.)

It’s all very dream-logic: the rules are new, you just accept them as is, and you only go “… Wait” as an afterthought. What is interesting regarding Mehreen is that the interrogations felt like she was on the verge of waking up – or was that Jon, as a narrator, who was able to perceive that these bits of information were falsehoods created by the nightmare? Was that distancing just a special flavour in this domain, or something linked to the fact that they’re getting closer to the Panopticon / to The Eye’s domain?

- … Vast-typical, but I’m still !! that there are apparently domains without ground:

(MAG174) ARCHIVIST: I’m not entirely sure what you were expecting, it’s The Vast. The clue is in the name! MARTIN: Yes, alright…! ARCHIVIST: Just be glad that this is one of the domains that actually has ground to walk on.

Let them fly, Jonny!!

(… Though there are probably also Vast domains with only water. Deep, deep water.)

- NOT A SURPRISE but Everything About Simon This Episode Was Beautiful.

(MAG174) MARTIN: Fine! Fine. How about Simon. How close are we to him? [STATIC RISES] ARCHIVIST: Hum… Close, [STATIC FADES] but he’s able to move a lot faster than we are in this place. MARTIN: Meaning…? ARCHIVIST: Meaning I know where he is, but… if he doesn’t want us to reach him, I don’t know if we’ll have much of a chance. MARTIN: … So… So what, we’re just going to trust him to… [CHUCKLING] show up to his own execut– [SIMON CRASHES ON THE GROUND] MARTIN: [SURPRISED SCREAM] ARCHIVIST: [TINY CHUCKLES] MARTIN: Jesus! ARCHIVIST: Uh… Apparently! [CLEARING AWAY RUBBLE] SIMON: [STRAINED] … Hello…! [BONES CRACKING] [GROAN] Hello. Dreadfully sorry. [SIGH] I only just noticed you were both here! That’s the problem with having such a big place, you know – [INHALE] you can miss things if you’re not careful.

* Simon was probably NYOOOOOM-ing in the sky until then. I’m only surprised that there wasn’t a direct “Enjoy Sky Blue” reference.

* The fact that Simon crash-landed. What an entrance.

* =D And the self-inflicted prophecy has been fulfilled: Jon met Simon Fairchild. (MAG124: “Fairchild seems to travel far and wide for his victims, with no motivation other than… variety. I do not think I ever wish to meet him.”) Though honestly, Jon took his meeting with the old man faaaar better than I would have thought – I was assuming that he would get on Jon’s nerves much more easily.

* Martin’s prophetic words AND Jon’s “Apparently!”: was it to answer Martin’s comment about Simon showing up, or Martin’s scream of “Jesus!”. (Peter called him a “grubby Jesus” behind his back, Jon is allowed to call other avatars the same!)

* Old man popping back bones and dusting off rubble. Simon, ilu.

* I’m still such a fan of Simon’s breathlessness and intonations! You can hear that he’s a Vast avatar from the way he talks and breathes!

* I am laughing so much:

Over that “etcetera”. SIMON…………………… (It was so dismissive while, at the same time, HE chose to give Jon honorifics and nobody had asked.)

Really love how he’s still so funny and amiable while being absolutely awful =D Someone is having a great time.

- That someone wasn’t Martin.

(MAG174) SIMON: And how are you, Martin? Still trying to save the world and all that? MARTIN: … Yes. SIMON: Pity. … Well. Armageddon… it’s not for everyone, I suppose. I’m quite enjoying it, of course. Although… Junior over there can be a little bit of a handful. [DISTANT LOW-PITCHED IMPACT, FOLLOWED BY GUSTS OF WIND] MARTIN: [AGGRAVATED INHALE] I might have guessed you’d be happy living in this nightmare. SIMON: I mean… not that it matters but… yes I am! Honestly, I think you could be too if you set your mind to it. But I’m not one to tell you how to live your eternity. MARTIN: … No. You’re not. Because I’m done listening to you! SIMON: I’m sorry? I’m not sure I follow. MARTIN: All those lies you told me… You helped to do this, you turned the world into your… your playground! SIMON: Hum… Not to be a pedant, but if you recall, I was actually doing a favour for Peter. And if Peter had won, none of this would have happened. Also, not to make excuses but they weren’t exactly lies, just… oversimplifications of complicated truths! And guesses. … A lot of guesses. [FOOTSTEPS] … A–almost all guesses really, now I come to think about it. MARTIN: Shut up! I don’t care.

… I would have loved to hear Simon and Elias interact, because “oversimplifications of complicated truths” as a new way to say “lie” is right up Elias’s alley (purposefully misleading, making guesses and presenting them with more certainty than you hold). It’s horrible that, technically, Peter was probably the most transparent avatar of the lot regarding his convictions? He was genuinely fearing The Extinction, he was genuinely hating Gertrude, he was genuinely trying to get Martin to join The Lonely for his own interests.

- Ooooh, how the tables have turned…

(MAG166) HELEN: Oh, hello! [FOOTSTEPS] In a better mood, are we? Feeling more secure now you’ve learned how to kill~? ARCHIVIST: [SHARP INHALE] Something like that. MARTIN: Will you tell me how he did it? ARCHIVIST: Martin… MARTIN: He just keeps going all vague about it! HELEN: Oh, goodness. You see what you’ve done to the poor boy, Jon? He’s coming to me for clear answers. [HELEN LAUGHS AND LAUGHS] ARCHIVIST: Shut up! HELEN: It’s very satisfying though, isn’t it? Teasing out vague information; you see why Elias got a kick out of it. ARCHIVIST: Shut up! MARTIN: Jon…! HELEN: You’re right, Martin. He is tetchy…! MARTIN: I didn’t say he was te– HELEN: So! So! An explanation.

(MAG174) SIMON: Goodness! We’re rather tetchy, aren’t we? ARCHIVIST: We’ve… [CHUCKLING] not been having an easy journey. MARTIN: Jon. ARCHIVIST: What – it’s true, we haven’t.

Jon&Simon vs. Martin, just like Helen&Martin vs. Jon (down to the “tetchy”).

- I’ll be laughing forever over Simon fleeing the heck out of the situation and saving his own life in the process:

(MAG174) MARTIN: That’s enough. Jon? ARCHIVIST: Uh… Yes? MARTIN: … Do it. [DISTANT LOW-PITCHED IMPACT, FOLLOWED BY GUSTS OF WIND] ARCHIVIST: Uh… SIMON: “Do” what? MARTIN: … Kill him. ARCHIVIST: Uh… SIMON: Han–hang on. Can he do that? MARTIN: He can, and he’s going to! [FOOTSTEPS] SIMON: Oh! ARCHIVIST: [STAMMERING] Oh, uh… SIMON: Right, just, hum… Seems a bit rude, to be honest! MARTIN: … Jon? ARCHIVIST: J–just give me a moment, I– SIMON: In fact, yes! You know what? I’ll, I’ll probably just be going, then! I–I–I’d prefer to keep existing, if it’s all the same to you, hum…! MARTIN: J–Jon?! ARCHIVIST: I– SIMON: Been lovely chatting to you! Good to see you guys! MARTIN: [STAMMERING] SIMON: Feel free to pop by again when you’re feeling less, uh. Murdery. MARTIN: Jon!! SIMON: Byeeeee! [SIMON DEPARTING / YEETING HIMSELF OUT] [WIND GENTLY HOWLING] [SILENCE] ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] [FOOSTEP] MARTIN: You let him go. ARCHIVIST: … Yeah…

SIMON. Some have mentioned that Simon was a cartoon character and, yeah. Absolutely. The sudden stammering and amiability while he was behaving like a coward? The fact he really didn’t want to die despite his Grand Talks about the meaningless of one’s existence in The Vastness Of The Universe?

(MAG151) SIMON: It’s all a matter of perspective, you see. My patron has gifted me with… quite frankly, an absurdly long life. An appropriate gift, and one that serves to provide a certain distance from things. Of course, a paltry few centuries is nothing, really, but it’s more than most get. And even in that brief time, I’ve seen all sorts of ebbs and flows to balance off things. […] MARTIN: Assuming The Extinction doesn’t derail everything…! SIMON: Which is why… I’m happy helping Peter. But! If it does: then I’ll either be dead, which will be fine, or… I’ll adjust. […] Life has continued through dozens of apocalypses already. Ice ages; pandemics; calamities; extinctions… The only reason this one feels special is because, well… it’s happening to you. And that’s the sort of solipsism that tends to come with loneliness – in my experience. So. My feeling is that I’ll help out where I can; but ultimately, if this “Armageddon” comes off, then… so be it. Either billions suffer and life goes on; or billions suffer and life doesn’t. In the grand scheme of things, it’s all… much of a muchness.

Slightly hypocritical, uh? When it comes to himself, he’s ~insignificant~ but still ready to cling to his own life as long as he can enjoy things.

- Jon explained his reasons for stopping the Smiting Avatars quest, and they’re very sound arguments… but it’s still interesting that it confirms that the only avatars he killed (Not!Sasha, Jude, Jared) were the ones who marked him, while Jon was more lenient towards the ones who hadn’t (Arthur Nolan, Oliver, Simon, Helen if we assume that Michael marked Jon first, and that Michael!Distortion and Helen!Distortion are different enough). Helen has not been super threatening this season, but she has tried to upset him on purpose, making fun of him, and yet, Jon didn’t really raise the possibility of eradicating her (he only mentioned that it would hurt them both, but mostly Helen, if he were to use her corridors). I’m reassured that he’s not trying to mindlessly kill avatars but it’s still curious…

(And I still wonder how Jon would react in front of Daisy and Melanie, who marked him for the Hunt and Slaughter…)

- I’m still very curious about Helen trying to push so much for murder?

(MAG174) HELEN: I just wanted to add my vote to the disappointed side. MARTIN: Wait, really? HELEN: I was rather looking forward to watching an old man metaphysically explode. ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] HELEN: Honestly, I feel a little bit cheated. The others were exceptional fun. ARCHIVIST: … Y–you were watching? HELEN: [CHUCKLING] Of course! As much fun as the new world is, I am not about to miss a real, honest-to-godless demigod murder spree! [LAUGHS AND LAUGHS, ECHOING] MARTIN: [SIGH] You’re really not helping. HELEN: I’m not trying to! ARCHIVIST: Look, it’s none of your business. Either of you. [DISTANT LOW-PITCHED IMPACT, FOLLOWED BY GUSTS OF WIND] MARTIN: Like hell it isn’t! ARCHIVIST: Martin. MARTIN: Don’t “Martin” me! Sure, he looks like a harmless old man, but if– ARCHIVIST: I know, Martin – I know all the things he’s done. HELEN: Fantastic…! So, rip him up! Pop him! Oh, oh, but, hum, just give me a bit of a head-start so I can find a good spot.

* Helen, absolutely proud that she’s “not helping”.

* … Helen, you REALLY sound like you have a death wish.

* Helen had already watched Not!Sasha’s smiting in MAG165 (since she commented about it in the following episode), and now acknowledged that she watched the others. It’s the third time she’s appeared in front of Jon&Martin. For someone who claimed to be enjoying the new world and be exceptionally busy… Helen has been spending a LOT of time looking at Jon&Martin’s journey. Why…? Is it because their conflicted feelings are feeding her? Is it because she’s monitoring them? Is she hiding someone (Annabelle, or Georgie&Melanie) inside of her corridors…? She had contributed to Jon getting his last mark (it’s still a bit unclear to me, but Peter&Martin were discussing about “the door” at the beginning of MAG158: she might have given Peter the tunnels’ map), but we still don’t know much about her intentions apart from “enjoying the chaos” (which… would be enough considering The Distortion). Why is she so encouraging of Jon’s murder spree, in a way that is so transparent…? Is it a remnant of the original Helen Richardson, trying to feel better about her own choices by having Jon succumb to the temptation of monsterhood like she has…?

* It’s… interesting that Jon couldn’t apparently tell that she had been “watching” when he smote the other avatars. I’d have thought he would be able to tell but, apparently, if he’s not focusing, he can’t know that she’s there.

- When it comes to the episode feeling like a “breather”: technically, it wasn’t hard after last week! But it was significantly less tense, and there was progress regarding Jon’s own boundaries and what he wants to do with his powers, and… cute bantering. Jon being a chirpy little SHIT from the start of the discussion segment:

(MAG174) MARTIN: [SIGH] … [BAG JOSTLING] Is it much further? ARCHIVIST: [SMALL CHUCKLE] Yes. MARTIN: Urgh…! ARCHIVIST: I’m not entirely sure what you were expecting, it’s The Vast. The clue is in the name! MARTIN: Yes, alright…! ARCHIVIST: Just be glad that this is one of the domains that actually has ground to walk on. MARTIN: Whatever. [DISTANT LOW-PITCHED IMPACT, FOLLOWED BY GUSTS OF WIND] S–so how far are we from the other side? And–and don’t say time and space don’t work here, that’s a cop-out and you know it. ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] Fine! Three days. MARTIN: Thank you. [SILENCE] … Wait. Wait, what counts as a day? ARCHIVIST: [CHUCKLING] What an excellent question! MARTIN: Oh my go–! You can be infuriating sometimes, you know that? ARCHIVIST: [ANGELIC] … Yes!

… No static =D While on two other occasions, Jon used his powers to “know” about things:

(MAG174) MARTIN: Fine! Fine. How about Simon. How close are we to him? [STATIC RISES] ARCHIVIST: Hum… Close, [STATIC FADES] but he’s able to move a lot faster than we are in this place. […] MARTIN: … You’re removing evil from the world! ARCHIVIST: I, I’m not, though, am I? [STATIC RISES] The tenement fire is still burning; the mortal garden is growing wild; the carousel i– HELEN: Ugh! [STATIC FADES]

So Jon didn’t even try on that first one. I mean, Martin brought it onto himself – how could Jon describe distances without Objective Time And Space except by “far” and “close” (like in MAG167, where Jon confirmed that they could rest a bit since the next domain was still far from them)? Martin is the little kid on the car backseat, uh.

… But also: Martin closed the last episode saying that the kids from The Dark’s domain would “just need to hang on a little longer”, and that the faster they would reach the Panopticon, the faster they could put a stop to this. No wonder he was impatient to reach the end of this one, since he knows now what the kids’ nightmare looked like.

(I’m still REELING over Jon’s “Yes! :)” over knowing that he’s infuriating sometimes. He knows and he’s proud of it and knows that Martin is dating this infuriating prick =D)

- … So, once again: avatars know about Jon’s status and that the apocalypse happened through him.

(MAG164) HELEN: What would I have to gloat about? Much as I am delighted by this brave new world in which we find ourselves, I can take no credit for it. This was all… you!

(MAG165) NOT!SASHA: Well, of course you want to wallow in my shame like your voyeur master!

(MAG166) HELEN: We’re all here, Martin. The Stranger; The Buried; The Desolation; all of us. But The Eye still rules. All this fear is being performed for its benefit. And so, there are now exactly two roles available in this new world of ours: the watcher, and the watched. Subject, and object. Those who are feared, and those who are afraid. And Jon, well… he is part of The Eye; a very important part.

(MAG168) ARCHIVIST: “This report is being sent to: The Great Eye, that watches all who linger in terror, and gorges itself on the sufferings of those under its unrelenting, stuporous gaze! And its Archive, which draws knowledge of this suffering unto itself. […] Perhaps once it might have horrified me, or given me some sense of pursuing the ultimate release of the world that you have damned.”

(MAG169) JUDE: Fancy seeing you both here. To what, exactly, do I owe the pleasure, the honour, of being graced by the great and powerful Archivist, harbinger of this new world, and his, uh… valet…? […] Just messing around~! Wouldn’t want to keep you from your oh-so-special business, Your Holiness.

(MAG171) JARED: Mm. … So, is there any way this doesn’t end in me dead? I’m guessing that’s on the docket if you’re here. Unless you’re just here to smell the flowers.

(MAG172) ARCHIVIST: “THE SPIDER: Oh, Francis… It’s such a shame, but I couldn’t do such a thing even if I wanted to! The man in the audience saw to that!”

(MAG173) CALLUM: … You’re the Eye guy, right? ARCHIVIST: That’s right. CALLUM: So you’re like… real important. ARCHIVIST: [HUFF] I suppose I am!

(MAG174) SIMON: Good to see you again, Martin! And you must be the famous Archivist, Herald of the Ceaseless Watcher, Harbinger of the New Age, etcetera. Lovely to meet you at last. ARCHIVIST: [SHORT EXHALE] SIMON: Simon Fairchild, at your service. [FOOTSTEPS] ARCHIVIST: I know who you are. SIMON: [CHUCKLES] Of course you do! I imagine you know pretty much everything by this point. How is it? How does it feel? [SHUFFLING] ARCHIVIST: … Strange. SIMON: Yes! I can imagine. These gifts can feel very disconcerting at times. I’m sure you’ll get used to it eventually. […] We don’t get many visitors these days, and, well. You might be the closest thing the universe has ever had to an important person! ARCHIVIST: Uh… I, hum… SIMON: I mean, obviously you’re still ultimately finite and all that, but [INHALE] altering the very fabric of reality, that’s… [WHISTLE] That’s pretty good going, all things considered. […] HELEN: [CHUCKLING] Of course! As much fun as the new world is, I am not about to miss a real, honest-to-godless demigod murder spree! [LAUGHS AND LAUGHS, ECHOING] […] I honestly thought that actually ending the world would be enough to stop you whining, but no! You’re the most powerful person, in a world where the worst consequences imaginable have already happened! Absolute power, with zero responsibility! What more can you possibly need to just – enjoy – yourself – a tiny – bit!

So, nothing new, but still eternally laughing that Jon was apparently marked as harbinger-of-the-apocalypse and that nobody cares about Jonah.

- I’m squinting at what Simon said regarding Jon’s powers:

(MAG174) SIMON: Well, in that case, thank you for swinging by to my… huge corner of the apocalypse. We don’t get many visitors these days, and, well. You might be the closest thing the universe has ever had to an important person! ARCHIVIST: Uh… I, hum… SIMON: I mean, obviously you’re still ultimately finite and all that, but [INHALE] altering the very fabric of reality, that’s… [WHISTLE] That’s pretty good going, all things considered.

Because it reminds me of the wording used for Hill Top Road?

(MAG139, Eugene Vanderstock) “But it seems the fight scarred the place in a way far deeper than simple fire. A scar in reality, that I believe has since been compounded by the interferences of other powers.”

(MAG146) HELEN: There is… something wrong, with Hill Top Road. You know it as well as I do. Some strange “scar in reality” at the centre of… whatever it is the Spider is spinning.

(And it’s still interesting regarding Jon’s status: if he is the one who “altered the very fabric of reality”, can he alter it back? Can he alter it in another way again? It still feels like if someone can do anything about the new configuration, it will be him…)

- I’m suuuuuuuuuuuuper glad at Martin’s rant and anger towards Simon, because it’s… coming close to talking about his own feelings regarding the apocalypse – the fact that he was misled all through season 4 to believe that The Extinction was the most urgent threat, and the fact that he was used by Jonah to give Jon his last mark with The Lonely, and the fact that… Martin chose to not kill Jonah Magnus’s body, unaware that it was still playing the game (and making Elias win). Martin hadn’t mentioned his own guilt so far, the fact that he was used by Jonah (and by Peter, and that Simon played with him a bit) and that he could have technically prevented everything if he had just stabbed Jonah in the Panopticon. I wonder if he will talk about that at some point?

It’s also interesting that this episode ended with the awkwardness of Jon inviting Martin to “lead on” before remembering that he’s the one knowing about the direction and correcting himself (“Follow me, then”) while Martin had expressed some anguish over the fact that he was “following, al–always following, never leading; never leading” in MAG170: it feels like there could be some feeling brewing over his own uselessness and powerlessness right now? Or like someone (Annabelle, Helen, Jonah) could definitely try to use it against him – Annabelle already did (“Does he even need you at all?”), which Jon kind of appeased the following episode (“Yes, Martin, you are my reason.”), but it could still come into play.

- Overall I’m not surprised that Martin absolutely wanted Simon dead in these circumstances – and it might be why he embraced the smiting spree so easily, because it could allow him (through Jon) to hurt back the avatars and monsters who had toyed with people? Peter is already dead, and Jonah is still far away. I reaaaally didn’t like the smiting spree, but I can understand how Martin had wanted to embrace it as a short-term solution; that’s the closest thing he could have to get some power back. (Simon admitted that The Extinction and what he had told Martin had mostly been “guesses”, but I also still wonder if it’s not going to be relevant, though not exactly as defined by Adelard… Simon had told Martin, in MAG151, that cataclysms and end-of-the-worlds had technically always been a thing depending of the point of view – it doesn’t mean that everything was bollocks.)

- Once again, what is Martin’s status in the new world? Because Simon’s comment definitely sounded like he was seeing Martin as one-of-the-avatars:

(MAG174) MARTIN: [AGGRAVATED INHALE] I might have guessed you’d be happy living in this nightmare. SIMON: I mean… not that it matters but… yes I am! Honestly, I think you could be too if you set your mind to it. But I’m not one to tell you how to live your eternity.

We haven’t seen Martin use Lonely powers apart from the end of MAG149, and his status was ambiguous in the Lonely house from MAG170, but mmmm…

- I’m laughing so much over Martin still being petty over Jon sparing Simon, because it sounded ONCE AGAIN like jealousy and it makes Martin out to be so over-the-top:

(MAG174) MARTIN: Why did you let him go– ARCHIVIST: Uh… MARTIN: –Jon? ARCHIVIST: I don’t… know, I just–! [SIGH] I didn’t want to kill him. MARTIN: Why not? Because he was nice to you? [FOOTSTEP] Because he was charming, because he was fun? ARCHIVIST: No, I–I–I, I just…

Martin is a bitch and I LOVE HIM. (Also, that sounds like Martin himself found Simon charming&fun.)

I’m able to appreciate his over-the-topness because he also gave genuine reasons, was aware that it was a bit humiliating:

(MAG174) MARTIN: … Good point! [SMALL CHUCKLES] I’ll keep my apology, then. [RUSTLING OF CLOTHES] [BAG JOSTLING] [SMALL CHUCKLES] … I do kind of wish you’d waited until after Fairchild to have your crisis, though. ARCHIVIST: You really want that old man dead…! MARTIN: I mean, su–, yeah, sure, when you say it like that it sounds bad! ARCHIVIST: But what did he do to you? MARTIN: … He threatened to throw me off a rollercoaster. ARCHIVIST: Ah! MARTIN: … Okay, I, I know it sounds like a joke, but– ARCHIVIST: No, obviously, he’s an avatar of The Vast, I understand, it’s a scary threat coming from him. MARTIN: Yeah! ARCHIVIST: It just… doesn’t sound like a scary threat. MARTIN: Thanks for that.

Martin sounds INCREDIBLY PETTY, once again, but it’s also very valid: back in MAG151, I appreciated how his “How do you feel about… rollercoasters?” / “Uh… neutral” answer had protected him from both of the usual outcomes (getting recruited as a Vast avatar or fed to it as a victim), but it’s true that it was still a threat, thrown casually by a powerful avatar who was flexing that he could just kill him if he wanted to. It doesn’t feel good to be spared just because your potential tormentor decided that you were “no fun”.

It was cute of Jon to very awkwardly try to break it down, and kind of make it worse in the process – because yes, it sounded like a ridiculous threat said like this… but also, Simon would have done it, and it was a genuine threat.

- I’m absolutely delighted that Jon explained his feelings regarding the smiting – a mix of firmness and getting his points across, and that Martin apologised for pushing him in that direction ;w;

(MAG174) ARCHIVIST: I–I just–! … This whole… “avenging angel” thing, I–I’m not… It doesn’t feel right. MARTIN: … It seemed to feel right when we were avenging all the wrongs done against you! ARCHIVIST: I know. I–I–I know, alright? But, well, th–… [SIGH] That’s kind of the problem, I have all this… power and, and I, I want to use it to try and help, but I… I don’t know, I mean, I do. Uh… I’ve done so much damage, an–and anything that might help to balance that is–! [SOFT SIGH] … But killing other avatars, it, it’s not… I, I don’t think it makes anything better. I think it just makes me worse. MARTIN: … You’re removing evil from the world! ARCHIVIST: I, I’m not, though, am I? [STATIC RISES] The tenement fire is still burning; the mortal garden is growing wild; the carousel i– […] [SIGH] I, I, I… [SIGH] I’m sorry, Martin. After meeting the child, I thought… I’ve been… I really hoped things would be simpler, you know? A nice, straightforward apocalypse. MARTIN: [INHALE] No… [SIGH] No, I’m sorry. Cheerleading you when you’re on a magical murder spree probably… wasn’t a great idea. ARCHIVIST: I started it. MARTIN: … Good point! [SMALL CHUCKLES] I’ll keep my apology, then.

Sentence of the episode for me: “But killing other avatars, it, it’s not… I, I don’t think it makes anything better. I think it just makes me worse.”

I’m glad that Martin was able to keep (some of) his pettiness in check enough to hear him out, though, and that he apologised (I really didn’t hear the “I’ll keep my apology, then” as something serious, but as cute banter between a couple who are back on the same wavelength: Martin had already admitted that he behaved poorly – it’s not something he can exactly take back); and on the other hand, that Jon also explained how it didn’t work. It’s like Martin isolating himself during the statement: they’ve made a mistake, they’re ready to acknowledge it, and they decide to not make it again. (Though, where was Martin during the statement portion this episode? At least in MAG171 and (partially) MAG172, he had stayed close to Jon.)

Right now, the problem with Jon’s powers really isn’t whether he can but whether he should – and the fact that he feels like it might be negatively impacting him is a valid argument (+ the ethical concern, not mentioned, of being judge/jury/executioner all by himself). The season began with The Eye wanting Jon to leave the cabin, wanting for the cabin to be his “chrysalis”, and… that cannot be good.

- I still lovelovelove how, since the reveal in MAG158 that “Elias Bouchard” was actually Jonah Magnus, Jon&Martin… are still mostly sticking to “Elias”.

(MAG158) ARCHIVIST: Uh– yes. And I’d wager that Elias’s body, uh… BASIRA: Gotta be Jonah Magnus, right? ARCHIVIST: I’d say so. BASIRA: [SIGH] And he’s been body-hopping like whatever was in Rayner. […] PETER: … No. No! This isn’t fair, do you have any idea what you’ve done? You knew, he must have– MARTIN: Elias– … Jonah had nothing to do with it.

(MAG160) MARTIN: Are we… … Are we safe here? ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] Safe as anywhere else. If Elias wanted to find us, I imagine he could, but… I doubt the police will be able to. […] Does she know if they’ve found the old prison yet? The… Panopticon, Elia– … Magnus’s body.

(MAG161) 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! ARCHIVIST: He’s not… MARTIN: I–I don’t see– ARCHIVIST: … “Elias”. MARTIN: Jonah, then. I don’t know, I find it hard to think of him as… I don’t really like to think of him!

(MAG162) ARCHIVIST: No, no, lo–look… I, I–I was listening, and I–I was filled with this… hatred. This anger; I–I wanted to leave, and hunt down Elias, a–and…! MARTIN: W–wow, okay… […] Do you think it’ll do anything? Confronting Elias? ARCHIVIST: [INHALE] I… [SIGH] Maybe? MARTIN: No, I’m serious. Do we… [PAUSE IN THE PACKING SOUNDS] Is there a chance that we can undo this?

(MAG164) MARTIN: What about Elias? [STATIC INCREASES] ARCHIVIST: He’s inside the Panopticon; the tower, far above the world. MARTIN: That one? ARCHIVIST: Yes. [PAUSE] MARTIN: How is he? ARCHIVIST: Hard to say. The, the way this works, this… “new sight”, the knowledge is, is… [SIGH] It’s somehow wrapped up in the Panopticon? An eye can’t… see inside itself. MARTIN: Mm. ARCHIVIST: But I can feel him in there. MARTIN: Hm. That sounds… gross. ARCHIVIST: It is! [CHUCKLES]

(MAG167) ARCHIVIST: Help us with what? MARTIN: ‘xcuse me? ARCHIVIST: Annabelle, help us with “what”? Our–our, our journey, killing Elias, vanishing the Entities – what?

(MAG174) MARTIN: Thanks for that. … Hang on, you’re still down to kill Elias, right? Uh, oh, Jonah, whatever. ARCHIVIST: I’m still going to confront him. [INHALE] I don’t know if killing him is something I’m even… capable of, but if I can and I have to, I will. MARTIN: Yeeah? ARCHIVIST: Don’t worry. I won’t hesitate.

Because: same. He still doesn’t really register as “Jonah Magnus” to me.

I’m also laughing a lot at Martin, who began the season with “I don’t really like to think of Elias :/” and, since then, has most often been the one to breach the subject of Elias (+ we can add MAG170: “I mean, the interview was weird, I… I don’t really remember the man who talked to me. Just his eyes. They stared at me; th–through me, and… and, I–I knew that he knew what I’d done. God, I…! I was so scared, but… but then he smiled and shook my hand…! What was his name? [CREAKING] He said I “had the job”…! [CHUCKLE] That he “looked forward to working with me”! … I was still so scared I could barely move my arm…! I was so terrified I’d let him down…!” – even when he was losing his memories, still remembering Elias’s eyes, and THIS is how MartinElias can still w–)

I really wonder if they’ll even try to call him “Jonah” when face-to-face with him, or… will still stick to “Elias” out of habit.

- … Well. That is, if Elias still has a face. We know that some part of him still remains in the Panopticon-Institute (MAG164: “He’s inside the Panopticon; the tower, far above the world.”), that Jon can still “feel” him there, but the fact that Jon can’t know more about it (because “an eye can’t see inside itself”) combined with the fact that Jon’s anger towards him was a key point in making them leave the cabin and the confrontation with Elias is still their current goal… keeps making me think that Elias might not be in the same state as he was in MAG158. Stuck in layers and layers of spiderwebs? Merged with the Panopstitute (since his powers relied on Magnus’s body staying in the middle of it)? Stuck inside of his old body? What is the part of Jonah Magnus can feel inside the Panopstitute: is it Jonah Magnus’s body or his consciousness? Is it still both?

- Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm Jon.

(MAG174) MARTIN: Hang on, you’re still down to kill Elias, right? Uh, oh, Jonah, whatever. ARCHIVIST: I’m still going to confront him. [INHALE] I don’t know if killing him is something I’m even… capable of, but if I can and I have to, I will. MARTIN: Yeeah? ARCHIVIST: Don’t worry. I won’t hesitate. MARTIN: … Right. [DISTANT LOW-PITCHED IMPACT, FOLLOWED BY GUSTS OF WIND] [INHALE] Right, alright then. Good. … Let’s go, then. We don’t want to keep him waiting!

“I won’t hesitate,” he hesitated, hesitatingly.

Well. Not exactly: Jon’s tone was casually firm, but also felt a bit distracted and, most importantly… why the need to add so many conditions, Jon.

* “if I can”: true that, unlike other avatars until then, Elias is tied to Beholding. Can Beholding’s powers be used against another Beholding avatar? Elias resisted the compulsion in MAG092 (… or so he said, before spilling everything ~on his own terms uwu~ – he, at least, was able to delay the effects), so Jon’s cautiousness is understandable.

* “if I have to”: that one is a bit more unexpected, because that’s… a big condition. In what circumstances would Jon “have to” kill Elias? It’s good, though, because it implies that it’s not about plain revenge anymore, but whether it could help the situation.

Anyway: the shift to “confront Elias” is a good one! … And gives me the feeling that Elias either won’t be in a state to be confronted, either will have further contributions to make.

(- Martin’s “We don’t want to keep him waiting!” also brings to mind that Elias is probably aware that they’re coming, right now. He’s in the middle of the seeing-it-all tower: unless he’s already incapacitated, they won’t be taking him by surprise, and he might be prepared to welcome them.)

- … Welp, I was feeling like we were hitting rock bottom last week, hope-wise, but this episode felt… like a breather (ha)? Not exactly hopeful per se, but definitely lighter (Martin firm about wanting to save the world, Jon finally wording what was bothering him with the smiting, Martin apologising, Jon and Martin reaching an understanding, not playing Helen’s game and thinking about the Elias case). So, #BackToWorryingOverDaisy – Jon didn’t want to kill Simon, doesn’t want to kill avatars just for the sake of it, but there is still Daisy running wild…

(And I would still feel a bit (lot) miffed if Jon were to kill her, given that she’s part of Basira’s story, that Basira promised her and that Basira arguably got the worst of it when it came to being manipulated without achieving/“winning” anything in season 4? I think it’s more likely that Jon could have the power to incapacitate her and give the time for Basira to fulfil her promise, if there is no other way, but I don’t know, I keep hoping that there could be another way with the fact that Jon can change the rules (turning the feared into the afraid, changing the “fabric of reality”) and that Daisy had a connection to The Eye (she signed a contract in season 4)…)

MAG175’s title is mysterioooous. If MAG174 hadn’t happened, I would have said “Vast” but… Mm. Only Spiral and Hunt left when it comes to domains, so I would wager Spiral, more specifically with digital fuckedupness, reminiscent of MAG065? (But I could also see how it could tie with Hunt if thinking about beginnings, and it could go very well with Extinction too… if this one ends up relevant again). In itself, the title feels perfect for lore about the new reality (tying in with a few meta considerations and comments which have been made by various avatars), so mmmmm: could also be a switch in perspective with Annabelle or Elias, I guess…

#1 #2 #3 #4 #5 #tma liveblog #mag174 #tma season 5 #the magnus archives #long post/

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ansgar-martinsson · 4 years ago

Text

The Best Intentions - Part 36

Ansgar slept fitfully during the night. The unfamiliar bed, the soft occasional coos and rustles coming from the baby monitor, the thumps and sleepy whines from the Bean’s room, and ultimately, the lack of Joline’s warm body beside his kept him wide and painfully awake.

Not to mention the arrival of his brother and sister in law at two o’clock in the morning. Their attempt at quiet whispers and floor-creaking tip toes as they made their way through their house was comical to Ansgar at just how ineffectual it was. They may as well have stomped and shouted for all the noise they made.

At least, it sounded like they had fun.

And so, come early morning, still dark, Ansgar pushed himself, groaning, out of bed. He reached immediately for his phone, disappointed to find Joline hadn’t responded to, or even read his texts.

“Shit,” he muttered, running his palm viciously down his face. “It’s too early anyway,” he said. “Probably still sleeping, the lucky darling.” He rubbed his eyes, blinked away the rest of the sleep - or lack thereof - and texted.

5:01: Good morning, darling. 5 am comes too quickly. Hope you rested well. See you at 10 x

***

He strode out of the bedroom, dressed and showered, combing his hands through his damp hair. He’d left his curls loose again, eschewing his typical slicked, combed and pomaded look. It wasn’t a conscious decision, not a calculated thought, just… an instinct. A knowledge. A deference to Joline’s comments, to the way she toyed with his hair when they made love, to the anticipation of more of it to come.

And of course, Rebecka noticed.

“You look… different, Sgar,” she said, handing him a cup of coffee. “What gives?”

“Well, good morning to you too, my dearest sister.” He took the cup, bent to her and pressed a warm kiss to her cheek. “Thanks,” he muttered, and took a long drink of the fragrant brew. “Mmmm. You’re up early, early bird.”

“Ingrid woke up. Had to feed her,” she shrugged, yawning. She walked back to the table and sat slowly down, straightening out the placket of her pyjama top. “What’s going on with you?” she pressed. “Something’s off.”

“How was the wedding?” Ansgar asked congenially. “Did Mags make a fool of himself on the dance floor?”

Her eyes flicked up to him, fixing him with a deep, delving stare. “Quit the diversionary tactics, Sgar. I’m a journalist. I’m tenacious. I won’t give up. Now, spill.” She sipped at her coffee.

Ansgar leaned against the back of a chair, crossing his legs beneath him. He drank his coffee, eyeing Bec over the rim. “I’m sure I’ve no idea what you’re on about.”

Rebecka glared at him, eyes narrowed. “Okay,” she intoned, nodding sagely. “Don’t forget, Sgar. I’m married to your twin.”

“So?” Ansgar shrugged.

“So, I can tell what you’re thinking. I can read you and Mags like books on a shelf.”

“No. You can’t.” He spat, shaking his head. “Don’t even try.”

“Oh. Really.” Bec’s eyes widened above a broad, knowing smile. She settled back into her seat, perched her feet on the opposite chair and cradled her steaming cup by her chest. “Tell me, Ansgar. What’s her name?”

He stopped, mid-sip, and stared. He held the cup to his lips for a long moment before he lowered it slowly, set it on the table, and straightened. He swallowed, dropped his customary mask, and let his lips curl into a blithe sigh of a smile. “Her name,” he said brightly, “is Joline.”

***

10:35 a.m. Monday

Ansgar peered at his watch for what he knew was at least the fiftieth time since he’d read the face at 10:00. He’d paced Joline’s office back and forth for the past twenty minutes, sure he’d worn a fresh path in her already threadbare Oriental rug.

He’d even taken to sitting at her desk, making a surreptitious attempt to gain access to her laptop in an attempt to locate her. He tried various combinations of the names Hugo and Adrian and Emilie and Elias and even his own name until the system locked him out of any further tries.

He’d called, and by the time he’d finished, his phone showed twelve calls to her mobile number and two calls to her land line, all of which went unanswered. Voice mails, two. Face time attempts, three.

He’d walked the theatre, asking for her at the reception desk, the ticket office, the light booth. He asked the foreman of his own company, the costume designer, the stage manager, the director of the production of Aida. None had seen her. None had heard from her. With every person he’d asked, it became more and more difficult to hide his anxiety, his fear, his apprehension….

… his anger.

And, then there were the texts.

10:05: You’re late.

10:07: How long are you going to keep me waiting?

10:18: I’m still at your office. Are you on your way? Are you okay?

10:26: Joline, respond to me. Pick up your phone. It is most unprofessional of you to miss a meeting with your partner without notice. Please advise where you are ASAP. Work cannot proceed without your authorization.

10:30: If you are not here by 10:40 I am going back to my office. Text me when it is convenient for you to reschedule this meeting.

10:35: Joline. Where the fuck are you?

“God damn it to hell!” he bellowed, wrenching open her office door. He strode angrily down the marble hallway, his loafers slapping against the slick surface, echoing off the walls like his heartbeat in his ears.

He clenched the steering wheel two-handed as he bobbed and weaved his Tesla viciously through the midday Stockholm traffic. He sat forward, keeping his eyes fixed straight ahead. But his thoughts were elsewhere, far away.

He couldn’t help it. He thought of Faye, damn her. His flesh, his bones, his very soul remembered. Remembered that desperate, empty coldness, that numbness of the nerves and fire behind the eyes and thickness in the chest that felt as if he were choking in the sulfuric clouds of Hell.

He wondered, as he slipped the car dangerously into the left lane, nearly missing a trash collector truck, whether she’d, whether Joline, too, had run from him. Whether she had severed ties and slipped away and deserted him like Faye had. Wondered if she, too, abandoned him.

Left him.

Took his heart and wrenched it asunder at the seam of his scars.

Heaving the wheel hand-over-hand, he caromed the Tesla, tires squealing, into his parking spot, and threw the car into park. He sat there, breathing like a grampus through his nose, his throat too tight, his jaw too clenched to even open his mouth. His heart pounded against his chest wall like a caged lion desperate for its freedom. “Fuck!” he shouted, slamming his fist against the dashboard. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! Not again! Not fucking again! I never should have said that! Never should have told you… told you….”

Never should have told you I loved you.

He peered down at his phone, the mute-arsed piece of shit. He lifted it, opened the messages, and peered at it. “Come on,” he growled, willing it to chime. “Fucker, come on, give me something, you useless bastard.”

Nothing.

He opened the car door, lifted the phone high and nearly threw it across the garage, his imagination painting him a picture of the phone and all of his overtures of love to Joline breaking into a million pieces – glass and little red broken hearts shattered against the concrete abutment.

But instead, he lowered the device, regarded it once more, set his thumbs to the keyboard and typed.

11:10: Ms. Lindberg. Come when convenient. I may or may not be available.

Pocketing the phone, he lit from the car, slamming the door shut with an echoing, hollow thunk. He kept his hand there, on the top of his Tesla, and he bowed his head, thinking - or trying to think. His mind was clouded, foggy, his logic blocked with filthy, sticky clots of pain. He breathed, calming himself, flushing those mental pathways clean of corrosive emotion.

And then, he imagined two compartments set apart by a partition in his mind. A massive wall.

He placed Faye in one compartment. Placed her there and sealed her up along with the gory, blood-soaked detritus of her - his anxiety, his worry, panic, desperation, despair, self-hatred, loneliness, loss, and hopelessness.

And Joline he set, free to roam, within the other.

And this wall, he fashioned it of steel girders and heavy masonry block and thick concrete and kevlar siding.

Impregnable. Indestructible. Mathematical.

Faye =/= Joline. The two sets do not intersect. Disjoinder. Non-union.

And thereby, the fog lifted. He found he could think again. He stood up straighter. He settled his shoulders. He relaxed his breathing, let his clamped jaw go slack, slowed his heartbeat. Logic, as it does, won out over emotion once again and the calculations and numbers and words flowed freely through his intellect.

“Something has to be wrong,” he told himself, calmly. “It’s not you. She’s not left you. Ergo,” he muttered. “She can’t communicate. She’s distracted. Something happened. She had an accident, she… Jesus!” His eyes flashed with the realization of it. “Her mother!”

And, like a shot arrow, he ran toward his private lift, mashing his hand on the button. While he waited, foot tapping, eyes staring at the moving numbers, he pulled out his phone and dialed.

And as expected, the call went to voice mail.

“Elias,” he barked. “Ansgar Martinsson here. Ring me when you get this. It is an urgent matter so you must respond immediately if you can.”

And as the lift arrived, he hung up and opened his messages again.

11:14: Joline. Is it your mother? Is she ill? Tell me where you are and I will be there.

***

Peritoneal Dialysis Infection.

The doctor called it. The doctor used those words to explain what happened, why Emelie needed to be hooked up to hemodialysis, intravenous antibiotics, a heavy drip of hydration and a ventilator to breathe for her. Her body suffered from a massive infection. She no longer had the antibodies to fight, her system already weak and depleted by her low red blood count. Her own immune system attacking itself, gone haywire by a disease that confused healthy and detrimental cells. The lupus had destroyed her kidneys, her blood full of toxins, her belly full of infection.

Joline understood it logically, but she couldn’t justify it happening all at once and certainly not to her mother. The doctors explained it time and time again to both of them, but Jolie still felt a sense of outrage for all of it. For the doctors explanations. For the lack of a cure. For their inability to fix it, to even make it better.

Joline felt her mother being ripped from her life, ripped from her arms, and ripped from her heart. Her heart ached with missing her mother already, the way she pulled Joline’s leg about her choice in shoes, the way she played with Joline’s hair while she worked at her computer, how she met Joline at the door when she was due in.

Joline clutched her mother’s hand (not cold but not warm either) as she listened to the machines beep and whirl and drip and spin. She willed all of it to work, to bring life back into her mother, to bring her mother back to her. She wasn’t done, and even as a grown woman, she needed her mother’s practical guidance and savage logic.

Tears slid down her cheeks in utter helplessness. She couldn’t lose hope and she wouldn’t, but she felt impotent, handicapped and entirely lame… just sitting there, doing nothing. But didn’t dare more, to wander away and leave her mother’s side. Emelie needed her, and Joline needed her mother.

The chair was anything but comfortable, but she stayed, nearly glued to it, waiting for a miracle to occur. She’d sit on railroad pikes if it meant saving her mother from this danger, this hint of death. Joline laid her forehead on her hand gripped around her mother’s and stared at the jeans she wore beneath. She couldn’t remember putting them on, the act of sliding into them forgotten in her haste, in her agonizing stress… but she must have done.

On her days off, at home, oversized t-shirts with the neck cut out suited her. She still wore the Harley Davidson one that she’d been wearing while reviewing her notes for Ansgar.

Ansgar… he felt a million miles removed from this, from her, from their fledging relationship. A million miles, a million hours, a million heartbeats and breaths away.

The jeans she’d shimmied into just before the first responders arrived and rung the bell to fetch her mother had been the first pair Ansgar had seen her in, after the smart pencil skirt that she’d worn to invade his office. She’d changed into the threadbare, broken knees, painted massacre of denim, but the first pair of jeans she’d worn in front of Ansgar, that first day they met. She couldn’t figure why this was important, other than… she missed him. She missed her life.

Absently she pulled at the white strings at the knee of her jeans, trying not to cry, trying not to dissolve on the spot. She didn’t often find comfort in another’s arms but she suddenly longed and craved for Ansgar’s, coveted his confident strength, yearned for his unflappable arrogance.

Joline could imagine him in her mind berating the doctors until they fixed her mother. Demanding a better doctor, a better specialist, a better hospital, even a better procedure because he simply could. That’s precisely who Ansgar Martinsson was. He expected the best and accepted no less than that. He didn’t accept failure.

A sob, a combination of fear for her mother’s fate and the realization about how she felt for Ansgar, escaped in a hiccoughing sound and she finally lifted her head. Swiping at the tears with the heel of her free hand, she whined and cried to the woman in the bed, “Oh, God, mama… I love him and you haven’t met him yet.”

Please don’t leave me. I can’t bear it, mama. Not yet. I don’t know what I’m doing.

Finally, mercilessly, Elias made it to the hospital. He held Joline securely in his arms as the doctor repeated everything for him, for his benefit, without the filter of Joline’s limited knowledge. Elias remained stoic, listening, intent on getting pertinent information and a possible course of treatment. The next three days were critical to get through and would indicate whether Emelie would survive this bout of infection. The doctor also mentioned a kidney transplant, not for the first time, as a possibility.

Elias rubbed Joline’s back, imbuing her with some form of comfort, as she took it the hardest. His sister was capable of so much, she exceeded in diplomacy and logic and management in her everyday life, but she experienced intense empathy for her family. That strong part of her all but disappeared when her emotional, compassionate side emerged.

When the doctor left them alone outside the intensive care unit, just outside their mother’s window, the siblings tried to make sense of all that happened in such a short amount of time. “Did she give any indication that she was unwell?” Elias asked softly, without blame.

“You know how she is, she’s so stubborn about… God! I wish I’d known. I should’ve known!”

Elias pulled her to his shoulder and kissed the top of his sister’s head. “You can’t blame yourself, Jo-Bo. You know that. This,” he indicated their mother upon the hospital cot with a wave of his hand, “was always a danger. The course treatment she chose… it was a risk.”

“I just… I need her well. I need her with me. I need her, Elias.”

He nodded silently, stroking her back again. He let the quiet between them calm her, dry her tears some. It was so rare to see or hear Joline cry that he didn’t know any other way to stop them other than letting them run their course. “I remember the first day mum brought you home. I hated you, Jo-Bo,” he said with a sad chuckle.

Joline laughed through her tears even.

“It was a Friday. I was meant for this show and tell or some shit at school. Instead our grandmother kept me home to meet my baby sister. I was pissed right the fuck off—“

“At five?” Joline asked with a reserved smile.

“Don’t mock me. I never got to show off my car collection.”

“The horror!”

“You were a little terror,” Elias pulsed his arm around her shoulders. “Cried all the damn time. I was the star until you came along.”

Although their father was a big part of both of their lives when he was alive, for the most part, Emelie was a single parent. Bryan, their father, visited once a month and took long vacations in the summer to spend time with them.

“Sorry, I stole your spotlight, big brother.”

Elias brought Joline into a hug. “I do remember when things changed though… just so you know.”

“You don’t still hate me for stealing your thunder?”

“Just a bit sore, but I’m getting better,” he joked, holding her tightly. “You gave me your scone. You were maybe, three or four? I was whining mum’s ear sore about something… she gave you the last lemon glazed or cranberry. From your highchair, you pushed your plate to me. You kept the peace even then, and I knew you wanted it.”

“Did you give it back?”

“Hell, no! I wanted it! But you weren’t so bad after that.”

After another lull in their conversation, both lost in their musing about Emelie, Joline asked, “What are we going to do, Elias? This… this is serious. I can’t lose her. Not now!”

“It is serious,” Elias acknowledged with a nod. “We just have to see how the next few days go, and we’ll make the decisions together. Yeah?”

Joline nodded, fighting back another wave of tears. “Thank you for coming. I didn’t know… I still don’t know what to do, how to fix this.”

“Be patient. There’s nothing you can do. I know you’re used to fixing things, finding the best solutions for all parties, Jo-Bo. But this isn’t one of those things for you to solve.”

She nodded, unconvinced.

“Why don’t I sit here with you and mum for a couple of hours, yeah? We’ll talk. Keep her company. Let her know that we’re here pulling for her. At nine,” he said looking at his mobile, “I’ll hit the cafeteria to get breakfast. If you need anything in the morning, I’ll get it and you can stay by mum, okay?”

#the best intentions

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nymphl · 4 years ago

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Lie to Me - Hux x Reader x Ch. 16: Guilty & Innocent

A/N: Hello there xD As promised, here it goes chapter 16 of Lie to Me. I’m working on chapter 25, but it’s getting quite difficult right now because whenever I get some time to write, my mom starts talking about just... about everything. And I feel extremely bad to tell her to stop even when she talks for hours nonstop and it gets on my nerves? haha So bear with me just a little more. This quarantine is being harder on her than on me.

Story Summary: Falling for the enemy… That’s probably the stupidest thing you’ve ever done. Letting him live… for he should be dead. And you should’ve been the one to kill him. You had him, right there… and you let it escape through yours fingers. He lived. And now only the time could tell if you made the right decision — more likely wrong — by saving the amnesiac General of the First Order and telling him he was your husband. [Hux x Reader - Hux x You]

Warnings for the entire story: Will contain at times; graphic violence, sex, drugs and manipulation, coarse language and OOCness.

AO3 Tags: from enemies to lovers; eventual romance; memory loss; fake marriage; fake marriage becomes real marriage; rebellion; married couple; canon divergence; slow burn romance; politics; rebel alliance; resistance; first order; OOCness; eventual smut; eventual sex; power play; power dynamics; syndicate; lies; you lie; Hux lies; Hux backstory; manipulation; political alliances; political betrayals; secret organizations; tros fix it; anti tros; nobody likes general pryde.

Wordcount: 3420

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

IT HAD BEEN A LONG TIME SINCE ARMITAGE HUX LAST SAW THAT ARMOR. The only indication he had his words had not gone to waste were the slight and occasional nods he could see through the compromised transmission.

The poor broadcast made it difficult for him to understand the already muffled words because of the gigantic helmet. Yet, he insisted. There was something he needed to know, and it could not be delayed any longer.

Depending on the answers he got, he would have to change his plans drastically. The future — his future, her future and the First Order’s as well and why not the whole galaxy? — depended on what Captain Phasma would say. She was, in no way, a reliable source — he doubted anyone in the First Order could be considered as such —, but the Captain of the Stormtroopers was no Politian.

As a militarist, she was good at following orders, not defying them, and yet…

…they had history together.

And if there was someone he came closer to ever trust, he could say it was the chromium-armored stormtrooper. In truth, she said very little, but more than enough for someone such as himself. Out of the triumvirate — one out of many in the First Order —, Armitage Hux could say he was the best strategist — not blessed with either the Force or physical strength, the slim and awkwardly tall boy had to work on his forte: his brain.

In any case, the possibility of another betrayal — something he quite did not expect the first time around — would not come off as a surprise at this point. He was counting on it. In fact, he planned the probable outcome for each situation. No one could say the General was a man who enjoyed the unexpected — that was why he never had time for people nor relationships; feelings were unpredictable —, and while he adapted quite easily, his distaste for such was immeasurable.

The unforeseen made him feel powerless and everything that did not add for his bright future as Supreme Leader — Emperor, no one could say he dreamed little — was disposable. A controller. Armitage Hux was a control freak and everything — people and feelings included — that could not be controllable was better left behind. Thankfully, Captain Phasma fell in the first category.

“There’s word out there that you betrayed the Order.”

He narrowed his eyes — something she would not be able to see given the transmission.

“Careful, Phasma.”

His strategy was quite simple, really. After his reveal, Captain Phasma would either keep his secret or she would tell the Supreme Leader — or even Ren himself. Or they would read right through her — he could only hope she learned by now how to conceal her thoughts.

Nevertheless, he was ready for any outcome. If the latter happened, his plans would only be hastened a bit.

“The Resistance attacked us in Rioza. They stole the shipment in its entirety. Some believe you feed them information.”

He thought that a smirk would have looked too suspicious. And yet he smirked. The slight tilt of his lips went unnoticed by the Captain.

Instead of giving her an answer — of soothing her fears and insecurities —, he chose silence. And she knew better than to expect a response for such a stupid statement.

“So… You’re coming back? You’ll prove them wrong.”

It sounded like a question — and it was a question; Captain Phasma lacked the intricacies of a more modulated speech —, but it was also a half-assertion. Once he was alive, it was expected of him to come back. The First Order was his life — after all, he had been molded for the position and role he fit in right now; the fact he was at the sore end of the bargain, with less than he deserved was a mere casualty —; he had pledged his life to it.

Not satisfied in taking his life — or almost taking, it would be a surprise when they saw he was in fact very much alive —, those who plotted against him managed to destroy his reputation in the Order.

He almost snorted.

The irony was too good to miss. The poster-boy, the golden General — a Grand-Marshall if they would so give what he deserved and worked so hard for —, was no more than a traitor.

Shaking such thoughts away, he concentrated in her question.

I make no idle promises.

The words were on his tongue, dying to be unleashed. He knew better. Even though he said it once, in a vastly different context, true, the meaning applied for the situation at hand. Suffice to say that Armitage Hux was a man whose distaste for the unpredictable rivaled his aversion to small talk and stating the obvious. If Phasma learned to battle with her physical strength, the slim, tall, awkwardly ginger Arkanisian boy was forced to quickly understand the power of the words.

Instead, he nodded.

Guilt…

You felt guilty before, but it could not compare to how you felt now. It was destroying you to know he had left and was yet to come back. When he said do not wait for me, you thought he meant for the night, not for whole four days.

A monster…

You felt like a monster for not giving him an answer.

But what else could you say? What else could you do? You were caught in your lies once, it was not like you could say you trusted him when you were not sure you did. You were cornered. Afraid and feeling guilty.

You had not realized it before, but you regretted saving him — you thought that was not something that would go away. He was the enemy. He and his precious First Order had invaded your planet — your home. It is true they betrayed him and tried to have him killed — and only the Maker could know why. You wondered if the General knew the truth himself — not the twisted lie you told him.

Besides, he said himself he probably knew about the new virus wreaking havoc in Dantooine, causing the death of so many aliens right now.

He could have lied. He could have said he had nothing to do with it, but he decided to be honest, and so did you.

You just did not expect him to leave for good.

It had been four days since he left. Obviously, you paid no heed to his warning. You had to go back. You had to work. Your coworkers — the few of them who did not stop working — were counting on you; lives depended on you. You had to go back to the Hospital. Your own life and safety meant very little face to the gravity of the situation.

The possibility of getting infected by the disease was no longer a threat — it was confirmed it was spread through the water and only alien species were vulnerable to it. Unlike the Krytos Virus, this one — the alien flu as your coworkers called it — could not be reversed by using bacta in the treatment. And if the most powerful healing substance could not kill it, you doubted anything else would. You had discovered — out of sheer luck or utter despair, you were no longer sure — that a small substance, not found in abundance in Dantooine and already out stock, seemed to alleviate the symptoms and delay the impending death.

Yet, even if the risk of getting sick was nil, at least one healer had been eaten by the crazed aliens quarantined. You would be lying if you said the possibility of being eaten alive did not scare you. However — and you could not help the comparison —, Aquilla would never let it hinder him. You could only hope the General understood it. Saving people was in your DNA, you could not help it.

At least, that was what you prepared yourself for when you returned to the Cave — your own house had been invaded by homeless, sick aliens; something you would not and could not complain about, they needed it more than you ever did —, only to find it empty. D-Five was making dinner for you only. The always so very efficient and proactive protocol droid told you he would not come back that day, but he was ready to be your company and talk about whatever topic you saw fit. The talk did not take place in the next day either, for you were welcomed with the same words. On the third day you gave up on the talk. You would not return to find the Cave empty.

Today, you felt very inclined to stay at the Hospital again.

A tired sigh left you as you entered the refresher. It was a very hot day in Dantooine and even though you longed to get home — if you could call the cold and dark Cave as such —, and get some rest, you knew you had to stay awake to take care of the children in your care.

You splashed cool water in your face, trying to wash away the sleepiness that began to take over you. The mirror placed on the wall showed you a very different face from not even a week ago. You had dark circles under your eyes and your skin lacked the luster of a healthy person. It did not help you could barely eat for the past few days — worry always compromised your appetite greatly.

Placing your hands over your face, you took a moment to breathe deeply and keep your thoughts at bay. A part of you wondered if he died — it was quickly dismissed; he was too smart to die that easily and you thought you would know, you knew when Aquilla died, it was not something rational, more like empirical, you just knew —, and part cogitated the possibility of him going back to the First Order.

I am loyal only to myself.

…and to you.

Is he though?

You shook your head. He would not go back to them. They betrayed him. They conspired to have him killed — or so he said, and could you trust him? Senator Organa was still to get back to you…

…And he said himself you should not wait for him.

It was impossible not to wonder if he was back to the First Order. He was a General and someone of his position — in control of such immensurable power — would hardly let go.

Your thoughts were interrupted with the buzz of your comm-relay. You took it with you as soon as you left home in the first day, too worried to stay parted from it — you had to know what happened to General Organa, you needed to. However, you were afraid of sending a message and it falling on the wrong hands — only the Maker could know how many lives such a message could affect.

Not giving it much thought, you opened the comm-relay only to be greeted by the tired and old face of the woman who invaded your mind more than you would like for the past few days.

“Were the Coordinates right? Did everything go—

You stopped yourself, biting the inside of your cheeks to the point you felt the coppery taste in your tongue. You closed your eyes — well, it was too late to say anything else now.

Kriffs.

If she did not know before that you did not trust your contact, she knew now. In her place — even if everything went smoothly, you would not trust this deserter of the First Order. It was clear that unlike Finn — or FN-2187 and what a dehumanizing way of calling someone —, your contact was not reliable.

I trust him with my life.

As if.

If she noticed your internal conflict, she chose not to comment on it, “Tell your contact we are grateful for all the information he has provided.”

You were not sure if she noticed it either, but you straightened your back. It felt as if a heavy weight was lifted off your shoulders. It felt as if you could finally breathe again. And you took a deep intake of breath. Your lungs burned with the amount of air you inhaled. And yet, you would not trade this sensation for anything else.

With the relief, came the regret.

You were once again guilt-ridden.

You should have trusted him.

You should have believed him.

You should have…

…let go of your apprehensiveness and listened to him. Listened to your heart that wanted so badly to accept his words and not to your mind, that wanted to paint him as the villain of your story.

He was… innocent all long and you were just… Kriffs. A monster for judging him so harshly.

“…not only right, but useful as well.”

Shaking your thoughts away, you decided to actually look at her and pay attention to what she said.

“What took you so long?” you asked, not really sure you overstepped your boundaries. The nature of your relationship was not clear as of yet. However, you had to know. If the cause of her delay was not related to an imaginary — you were such a fool — betrayal on Hux’s part, you needed to know the reason.

General Organa took a moment to answer, as if testing her words. As if testing… you. It was clear she was surprised at your disarray, but once again she chose not to comment on it. If she was preserving your privacy or if she did not trust you to such extent, you did not know.

“A new disease spread in the outer-rim territories kept the Resistance busy.”

Your eyes widened.

“The Alien Flu…” It left your lips in a meek whisper. You knew it was bad, but you had no idea it was spread in planets other than Dantooine. If eradicating a disease in a single planet was almost impossible, you could not say what you expected of part of the galaxy. “Kriffs!”

There was moment of silence.

Senator Organa was most like analyzing your reaction. And you could not say you judged her. In her place, you would do the same — if Aquilla had not spoken about this, you could say the General taught you with his posture, but you knew that silence spoke volumes about a person or a situation.

“Perhaps your contact knows something about the disease and its cure.”

It was your time to keep silent, however brief it was. Soon, the words came to life in your mouth, “No. He doesn’t.”

Her expression was somewhat blank. You had no idea if it meant she believed you or if she thought everything you said was utter bullshit. General Organa did not strike you as someone who trusted others — even if they helped her once — that easily. On your part, you were surprised for defending him so vehemently.

He could be innocent.

He is innocent.

Even if the concept of innocence did not apply to those in an organization that profited by waging War in the galaxy — by those who believed in a project of a fallen Empire, the very embodiment of tyranny and villainy.

Kriffs.

You did not know what to believe anymore. The fact that he simply vanished did not help the tiniest bit.

“I thought as much.” She brought a bottle of water to her lips. It concealed most of her face. “Only someone of the highest ranks would know about that.”

You bit your bottom lip.

She knew.

A shiver ran down your spine.

“Listen.” You swallowed. “I have to go.”

As soon as you ended the transmission and shut down your comm-relay, you left the Hospital. This time you did not care about your clothes or your own sanity — which you knew was lacking right now.

The fact that you did not sleep coupled with the discovery of his… — you had no idea what to call it, honesty, perhaps? — coupled with the truthfulness of his words made your heart beat faster and not only because you were running towards the Cave.

You had to get to him. You had to talk to him. You had to… see him. You were not sure you could trust your words right now. Seeing his face would suffice. However, more than the imperious need to see him, you needed to know.

By now, he already knew if he had a hand in what was taking place in Dantooine and other territories in the outer rim.

Only someone of the highest ranks would know about that.

If he still had most of his accesses to the First Order database, then he knew why they did it — and it was getting increasingly difficult not to understand their reasons; aliens ate humans and humans hated aliens. Only a racist organization, product of that dictatorship called Empire, could unleash such a hateful disease upon the distant and forgotten planets — and how to possibly end it.

Because there must be an antidote.

There has to be.

If you were to find him, D-Five would give you his coordinates. The protocol droid would know where he was. You just had to make him talk.

You ran as fast as your tired limbs would carry you. As fast as your own heartrate would allow you to. Part of you was grateful for his harsh training, without it, you doubted you would be able to stand on your legs right now. Getting almost no sleep for the last few days helped very little.

It was with some relief — great relief, actually — that as your feet brought you to a stop in front of the Cave, and you spotted not only the General, but his partner — was she really a partner or they were only analyzing each other and waiting for the best moment to end not only their partnership but the other’s life? — as well. Behind them, there was a Personal Petite Yacht you have not seen in years.

“You look like shit, hon.”

Pursing your lips into a thin line, you breathed deeply through your nose. You almost — you knew the General would scowl if you did that — placed your hands on your knees to support yourself. Even if it was a short distance between the Hospital and the Cave, you felt like you had run a marathon.

“Aurra.”

The General straightened his shoulders and shut off his electronic cigarette. You shifted your attention to him. You were not the only one who looked absolutely terrible. If you slept little, the General got close to no sleep whatsoever.

His cheekbones seemed even sharper now. Besides not resting properly, you could say he was not eating as well.

If the situation was any different, you could say you were worried about him. Right now, all you could feel was a crushing guilty and extreme relief — he was alive, and he had not gone back to the First Order. And it sufficed.

He had no time to say anything — and you doubted he would —, for she hit her walking stick on the rocky ground, attracting your attention.

“You arrived just in time, dear.”

In time for what?

“Go ahead.” She pointed at the ship behind her. “You two shall leave for Canto Bight.”

The General outstretched his hand for you to take. Even if you hesitated — to depart for Cantonica right now made no sense whatsoever, not with the medical crisis in the outer rim territories —, you placed your fingers upon his. He immediately pulled you into his embrace.

You bit your bottom lip — not risking a glance at Aurra; you had no idea if she still believed you were his weakness and honestly you did not want to let her know there were problems in paradise — and moved one of your hands over his shoulder.

“Do you trust me?” he asked. His voice was no more than a whisper in your ear.

Do I?

Part of you wanted to say you did. If you learned something today, it was that he was far from the lying monster you believed him to be — and you had lied to him as well! You were sure of one thing only — if you wanted to survive, it you wanted to find the cure for that damned disease, you had to trust him.

“Do I have any other choice?”

You expected silence. Instead, you felt the tip of his nose running over the sensible skin of your neck as he breathed in your scent.

“No.”

A/N - See you on Friday. Guys, I’m also posting Lie to Me now on Wattpad. I update every Wednesday xD

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