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janekfan · 4 years ago

Note

ive been Searching and Craving for any scenario/canon divergent au where jon and tim make up because jon shows tim thats hes just as much a victim as anyone else and tim is just like... ah. so we're both assholes. and jon insists that tim didnt do anything wrong (and obviously its all very whumpy and hurt/comforty). basically just... tim and jon making up because tim wants to after jon tugs at his heartstrings enough (because im a sucker for the whole "whatve i done" bit)

Here we go!! Sorry these are taking so long but I’m still working on prompts!!!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26972698/chapters/67878991#workskin

Too Much Chapter 2!

Watching Martin remove the evidence of panic by carefully, slowly, swiping a damp flannel over Jon’s skin, Tim continued holding the cold pack in place. The man between them made a sound, nondescript, shifting enough that his lips parted with a soft sigh as he settled.

“He’s made a right mess of these.” Martin lamented, gingerly lifting one hand to examine the heavy bandages, soiled with fresh blood and coming undone. Not altogether certain he wanted to know what was hidden away beneath, Tim stayed silent. “Would you mind fetching the first aid kit while I get rid of these?” He used the time away to take a deep breath, attempting to gather his rampant thoughts now that he was roped into fixing up their boss. There was always the possibility of giving him the kit and hightailing it out of that place and never setting foot near document storage again but before he realized what he’d done he’d accumulated other supplies he figured they might need and the relief in Martin’s eyes when he slipped back into the room was palpable. Jon’s hands were bare, blisters laid over blisters, broken and bleeding sluggishly from torn welts, one palm layered over with a nasty burn. Tim couldn’t help the noise torn from his throat in sympathy as the walls he’d built around himself began to crumble under the weight of Jon’s wounds--and he wasn’t even the one to bear them! Jon had acquired more scars, more shadows in the gaunt hollows carved into his body by his bones since Prentiss. It was like laying eyes on a stranger, or opening his own and finally seeing what his negligent ignorance had truly cost.

Were these marks, this pain, not proof that Jon had every right to be scared? Paranoid? To suspect them? When it was his own “friends” raising hands violently against him?

“What. Martin, what happened?” He accepted the water, easing Jon’s arm over the edge of the bed and doing Tim the kindness of not reminding him that he’d never cared to know before.

“I couldn’t tell you what caused most of this, but you know. Daisy.” He swallowed, eyes narrowing as he dabbed away the worst of the scarlet slicking his skin and Tim saw red at the reminder. How dare she touch him. “Hush now, you’re alright.” Jon’s arm twitched, an aborted attempt to tug his hand away from Martin’s surely painful ministrations. “Just cleaning these up.”

“Hnn…” Saltwater-soaked lashes fluttered and damn his body’s reactions but Tim was at his side on the cot before he could blink and wholly unsure of what to do now that he was there, settling on running fingers through tangled curls, teasing out the knots as Martin worked. Clouded and slightly crossed, Jon’s glazed brown eyes peered up at him, through him, blinking slow, and Tim could feel the heat of his fever under his palms.

“Hey, bud.” Surprising himself with his own softness, Tim continued combing through his hair. “Close your eyes, boss. Marto’s fixing you right up.”

“Hur’s.” Badly slurred and tinged with vulnerability he wasn’t used to anymore, Jon’s voice sent a chill racing up Tim’s spine.

“I know.” He said anyway. “It won’t soon.” Trust and exhaustion won out, dragging bruised lids closed. “Martin.” Tim didn’t look up, tracing silver strands, so many, with the fingertips. “I would like to know. Please.”

Martin hummed, finished up the first hand, the worst hand, and cradled it over Jon’s stomach in a poor attempt at elevation before starting on the next one.

“I haven’t gotten much out of Jon--not because he won’t tell me!” He amended, remembering the promise Jon had made to be honest with them and clearly worried it would make Tim angry again if he thought he was keeping secrets. “He’s just. I mean.”

“I understand.” After leaving Elias’ office, whatever tenacity and fortitude Jon managed to scrape together after his ordeal with Daisy and Basira had faded quickly. Even Tim wasn’t able to ignore how bad off he was, more along the lines of being unable to explain than lacking any desire.

“I know she, she hit him. He’s bruised all over. Clocked him with her gun I assume, to leave him concussed--I still can’t believe I didn’t notice sooner.”

“It’s alright. We’ve all been. Preoccupied.” Some of them only with themselves.

“He was filthy, covered in dirt and I think bl’blood? Not his. Or, not all of it I think.” Martin rubbed his own neck thoughtfully, tracing a path that mirrored the red grin carving up Jon’s throat. “I think.” He looked into Tim’s eyes, haunted. “I, I overheard them saying he’d been made to d’dig a grave.”

“His grave.” There was no real proof, not yet. But it felt right. And Tim felt sick. “His hands.”

“The burn is bad, I don’t know how he got it.” A crease formed between Martin’s knit brows. “I. Tim.” He sighed. “You’ve been so furious with him.” He dragged both hands down his face. “Jon’s doing his best. Please, you have to believe that.”

“I think I’m beginning to.” He’d yet to stop his detangling. Jon liked when people he trusted played with his hair, especially when he wasn’t feeling well. Unbidden and effervescent, memories rose to the surface of Tim’s mind, each a different moment, beads of time strung on delicate silk strands. Sasha. Sasha, whose true face, true voice, had been written over and worn, her hands on Jon’s shoulders, working out the tension he carried there despite his complaints. Tim himself draping a cardigan over him where he slumped forward on his desk in Research when he succumbed to sleep. A rare moment at someone’s apartment, Jon three drinks in, flushed bright red and ridiculous, throwing himself into Tim’s lap and nuzzling his stomach until he got what he wanted; hands in his hair, on his back, honest to god cuddles. The embarrassment in the morning would paint him vivid with blush and he would accept the painkillers and tea with a shy grin.

That Jon was still in there.

Right?

For the first time in his career Tim chose to come into work early, heading immediately to doc storage to find Jon curled up against Martin, ruddy face squished against his chest and arm slung over his waist as though he’d recently been clinging there.

And if this had been another time, another universe, he would have teased them both, but the shadows under their eyes were beginning to match.

“We had a hard night.” Martin yawned hugely and Tim caught a quick glimpse of glassy brown at the movement but Jon passed out again in the next second. “Nightmares. You remember Crew?” Tim nodded. “Explains the vertigo. He’s going to want to work.” Martin’s palm found its way to the back of Jon’s head, tucked him under his chin as he exhaled, slow and measured.

“And you want him to rest.”

“He won’t.”

He didn’t.

But the dizziness kept him in his office for the most part and Tim helped keep an eye on him, checking up regularly, awkwardly. It was almost like old times. Except Jon was careful not to speak. Not now that he might force answers out of someone. Not now that he might be hurt because of it. Jon was smart. He tried to remember the things he learned because he only seemed to learn the hard way and right now he was trying to figure out Tim while Tim was trying to figure out himself, wary of the change towards him, confused when instead of lashing out, he asked if he needed anything.

“N’no, thank you, Tim.”

“It’s no trouble.” But it was physically painful to watch the gears turn as Jon balanced the possibility of pissing him off with how uncomfortable he was in this situation. “I’ll check back later, yeah?”

“Uh. Y’yeah. Yes. I mean, yes.” Nervously, he shifted between folders. “Of c’course.”

The day dragged and Jon’s fever and groggy exhaustion lingered, kept barely in check by Martin plying him with the painkillers and fever reducers because he refused A&E. It was frustrating, even if he was looking somewhat improved. When they caught him asleep it was often in the throes of a taxing nightmare. He was a shadow in his attempts to avoid them all, to focus on work, and now that Tim was paying attention he didn’t like how Basira was so cold, how Daisy made Jon flinch on purpose, how Melanie went out of her way to collide with him in the narrow hallways. How he was slight enough, unsteady enough that it sent him into the wall.

How he did nothing about it except murmur apologies and move past them as quick as he could.

Jon was back to pushing himself too hard, not bothering to ask for help because he’d never gotten any before so it wasn’t worth bothering with it now. He was alone. Deserted by everyone except for Martin--and oh the way his expression lit up at the sight of him. How soft his voice became when he thanked him for the tea. Tim knew Martin couldn’t see it yet, or wouldn’t let himself realize, but Jon was taken with him. Smitten. And already believed beyond a doubt that he had no worth. As prickly as Jon could be there was so much love in him just vying for a way out.

How could Tim have forgotten that?

Tim paced the length of the archives three times before heading back to check on Jon, alarmed when the office was empty. Worry, both familiar and unfamiliar, twined its way around his heart. He'd watched as the afternoon hours slipped by and Jon became worse and Tim didn’t bother asking anyone he came across; they didn’t care, he wasn’t supposed to care. But there weren’t many places Jon would go and Tim found him in the breakroom stabilizing himself on the sink. He didn’t react, didn’t turn, didn’t seem to know anyone was behind him, and Tim could make out shivery, deliberate breaths. Jon let go, lifting a hand dazedly to his forehead and staggering backwards such that Tim had to steady him.

“Whoa there, Boss.” Softly, quietly, Tim knew his head was still pounding more often than not no matter how adamant his denial. It didn’t stop Jon from flinching like he’d been struck or attempting to whirl around and only making it all that much worse as eyes filled with fear rolled back into his head and Tim had to catch him outright, lowering him to the floor and pillowing his shoulders in his lap. Unconsciously, he laid a palm over his overwarm forehead, dragging fingers back through damp strands rhythmically and wondering how he’d react to waking up with Tim staring down at him. They were dancing around each other, or at least Tim was. Jon couldn’t do much more than sit at his desk in what amounted to pyjamas and pretend to work in an attempt to wedge some normalcy back into his life.

“What happened?” At least now Martin’s inquiry wasn’t accusatory as he knelt beside them and checked over Jon himself. “How long?”

“Minute. Maybe two? He, uh. I surprised him and when he turned…” he trailed off, gesturing with a sigh.

“Ma’tin…” nothing more than a small breath of awareness in recognition of his voice, eyes still closed.

“You should be at your desk.” Lightly scolding.

“Nn...was col’...tea…” Tim met Martin’s eyes with worry at the barely coherent jumble of syllables caught on his sluggish tongue and he held up a hand, signaling him to wait.

“What’re we going to do with you, hm?”

“...Dunno…” He’d failed to understand the gentle ribbing for what it was, instead answering honestly, tearfully, and it tugged on Tim’s heartstrings. Martin chuckled kindly to ease the sting, moving forward to lift his weight off from Tim and standing still to let Jon wind a hand loosely into his jumper, hanging on for dear life with a gasp.

“You sound tired.”

“Mmyeah...tire’...” And that discordant admission alone was enough to cause alarm, doubly so when his body lost all rigidity in Martin’s hold.

“Martin--”

“Shh, Tim. He’s alright.” Protectiveness urged Tim to follow them back to document storage. Concern made him sit down before Martin asked. “Stay with him? I don’t want him to forget and wander off again. I’m gonna get that tea and something for the fever.” Tim supported his chin with a hand, elbow digging sharply into the top of his knee, and watched Jon sleep. With his eyes, he traced invisible constellations over the worm scars dotting his skin and connected their lines to the ink dark splash of lashes twitching as he dreamed. “What’re you thinking about?”

“How much running I’ve been doing.”

“Mm.”

“How much easier it was to ignore all this if I just hated Jon instead. Blamed him for it.” He lifted his fingers in a bitter and general indication of their unreasonably bad situation. “He’s made mistakes. We all have. And his are the only ones I’m not willing to forgive.” Tears prickled at the corners of his eyes, stung. “Why is that?” His skin blushed with heat when his voice broke on a sob and before Martin could speak they were interrupted.

“Head’spounding…” He could barely keep his eyes open.

“Ah, I’m sorry, love, I know, here,” he was like a rag doll when Martin lifted him. “This’ll help.” Tim watched the ease with which Martin navigated Jon. All sweet and kind, steadying his hands when they proved too shaky to hold the cup, testing his temperature with the inside of his wrist when Jon was distracted with swallowing down the medicine.

“Shouldn’t do this.” Whispered, lost and undone, as Martin tucked him in, gripping back tightly when Jon grew dizzy with the change. “M’sorry.”

“You say that too often, Boss.”

“Hush, both of you.” To Jon, “we can all talk later, when you’re feeling better. It’s okay to need help. It’s okay to rest.” And while he didn’t look convinced, he was helpless against the drag of that heavy, insistent tide of exhaustion.

“Never liked to owe people, our Jon.” Martin sighed, frustrated.

“It’s not a transaction. I wish he’d trust that I only want to help.” Tim snickered ruefully as Martin tucked stray salt and pepper strands behind Jon’s ears.

“He’s always been suspicious of decency.”

“That’s not right.” There was a lot wrong with it, and far too much to solve at this moment.

“You look knackered, Martin. Go home.” He needed caring for after keeping them all together like he’d done. “I’ve got it from here.”

“I don’t want to ask that of you.”

“You’re not asking, Marto.”

“Tim--”

“I need to. I. I need to do this.”

Tim was worried that the only reason Martin left him here alone was because he was too tired to spend another night here keeping an eye on the both of them. He only had himself to blame when it came to the loss of trust.

It was no secret his dislike of Jon.

He hadn’t forgotten his treatment of him just the other day. Yanking him up off the ground and shouting at him, blaming him for his confusion and unsteadiness, for worrying Martin while he’d been the one ill and frightened and unmoored on the dusty floor. A mournful cry jolted him out of his musings, and the nightmare didn’t sound kind, wrenching Jon awake and leaving him panting, narrow chest heaving, eyes wide and unfocused in the dim.

“Hey.” Soft and quiet, it didn’t stop Jon from jumping in surprise, nearly swooning when he jerked his head in the direction of his voice. “Back with me?”

“Tim.” Real surprise, he blinked hard, trying to clear his bleary vision. “Yeah. S’sorry.” Jon offered him a sheepish quirk of his lips.

“I’m the one who needs to apologize, Jon.” He swallowed thickly and Tim could hear the click in his throat, somewhere behind the bandage hiding that yawning red grin from sight.

“Wh’what?”

“I’ve treated you unfairly.”

“No, no, Tim. You. You had every right! I was out of line and suspected the worst with no proof and didn’t trust yo--” Jon was trying to get up, ignoring how it had to hurt, and when Tim made to stop him, he flinched in real fear and backed himself into the corner. “S’sorry. I. It’s, it isn’t you, I swear.” Guilt wrapped around Tim’s heart like a thorny vine at his stammering apologies, at the way Jon laughed at himself and scrubbed his face with the back of a bandaged hand, staring up at the ceiling as new tears pooled in his eyes. “A lot’s h’happened.” When he closed them, the damp rolled down his cheeks into the grey at his temple. “I,I,I know you don’t w’want to hear it. But I, I don’t have anything else left t’to offer and I’m so s’sorry.” Jon tucked up his knees and buried his tear-stained face in the blankets he pulled around himself. Scared and small and awaiting derision. Tim edged closer.

"Jon.” He reached out to touch and thought better of it. “I think. I think I'm ready to hear it now." Consumed by constant fear and torment, run ragged for months and months, when Jon risked glancing up at him Tim could finally look past his anger and see him. Flushed with fever, thin and drawn, bruised and beaten and burned.

But still Jon.

Still Jon, terrified of the kind of help he'd been taught by experience not to ask for. Not to accept. Not to trust. Not to need.

“No, n’no, Tim. It’s.” He sniffed, tried to offer Tim a watery smile. “M’not feeling w’well, heh. You know how I, how I am.”

“I know you don’t take care of yourself.” He continued before Jon could interrupt. “I know I’ve left you to deal with this alone.” Indeed, at the very first sign of trouble, Tim abandoned him to his own devices. “I understand why it’s been difficult to trust me.”

“Not just you.” Tim had to strain to hear him, voice tiny, wavering with misery. “It’s so hard to trust, I have to, to think about it, choose it, don’t I. Talk myself out of how a’afraid I am all the t’time. I can’t even trust myself, my words. I. They. It’s easier to not speak at all, if it can be helped. And I try. But. Tim.” Fraught, brown irises nearly swallowed by black pupil bored into him, begged him to listen, to see. “I’m a monster.”

“Jon--” He tugged at messy curls, ignoring the pain it had to cause, the spots of blood, and if Jon would let him, he would need to fix the wrappings after this. He’d folded into himself even tighter, rocking himself just slightly in an attempt at comfort.

“If everyone is saying it, it must be true. But I’m trying. I promise, Tim, I promise. I was hoping it counted for something, anything. I can’t. I.” He broke off, attempting to pull himself together, face contorted and when he noticed Tim’s stricken expression, stumbled on with half-thought out reassurances. “I, I won’t stop! T’trying, that is. I, I, I want to, to be better. I don’t want to hurt anyone. It’s not about counting, it’s about doing the right thing. Or something close to--it never seems to work out, I’m not. I keep doing the wrong things so I know--but I p’promise--and besides, D’Daisy’s watching, if you’re worried, heh.” He laughed, a little broken thing, tears glittering in his eyes. “She’ll put me d’down. If that makes you feel any better.”

And god how could he think Tim wanted that? Jon, living with the knowledge that any mistakes he made could lead to--

Hanging over his head. Just awaiting collapse.

“That’s. Jon, I don’t want her to do that.”

“Oh. Did.” Tim realized the pause was an attempt at managing his powers of compulsion. “Did you want to? Instead I mean?” Tim recoiled in horror at the genuine curiosity, the dull acceptance that they all might be waiting for their chance. Numbness flooded his fingers. And even though Tim knew Jon was trying to use the right words, the ones that would make him feel better, he was furious.

“How could you think that?!” Jon held up his raggedly bandaged hands, the blisters from digging his own grave and who knows what else hidden from view.

“I, I’m sorry, I. You’re right, that was stupid of me. I’m sorry, Tim, I’m sorry, I--” Tim cut him off by sweeping him into an embrace, pressing his face into his shoulder. He was little more than bones rattling around in a scarred and ruined skin, shaking in his arms, his own held away, stiff. Dear lord, what had he done? “T’Tim? I, I’m sorry I’ve upset you.”

“Stop it, Jon.” And he collapsed, spent from his outpouring, breath loud in Tim’s ear. “Just stop.” Tentative, Jon wrapped him up in return. “I’m going to do better.”

“You don’t--”

“I do. And I am.” Damp soaked into his sleeve despite the silence with which Jon sobbed, little more than uneven, ardent gasping as they clung to each other.

“B’but.” He pressed closer, starved for it. “I.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’ve been so afraid.” Murmured against his shirt, Tim could feel the shapes of his words, the trembling of his lips.

“I’m sorry.”

“Are you. You mean. If, if you--I couldn’t stand it. If it wasn’t real.” Desperately, he whispered, thick with tears. “Don’t think I’d survive losing you again.” Too much loss. Too much all around and not one time had Tim thought about who he still had.

“I’m going to help you.” Tim realized then he’d been crying as well. “Like I should have from the start of this mess.” Gently, he pulled him away, took his damaged hands. “Let me get these fixed up. If Martin sees them, he’ll have both our heads on pikes.” For a moment, Tim was worried it was too soon, that Jon would need to hide this vulnerability from him, and he held his breath, until he nodded, just once.

It would take time, but they’d made a start.

#TMA #the magnus archives #tim stoker #jon sims #martin blackwood #pining #mending fences #sick #fever #injuries #fears #blood

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slowly-writing · 4 years ago

Text

Friends Don’t

Emily Prentiss x Reader

Word count: 2.3K

Requested by: n/a

This story is based off the song Friends Don’t by Maddie & Tae

“Hey y/n, wanna have a movie night this weekend? Five Feet Apart is finally on netflix, I know you’ve been dying to see it,” Emily offers as she sits on the edge of your desk and you can feel your face lighting up.

“Yeah! I was supposed to drive down to my sister’s house, but odds are we’ll get a case and I won’t make it down anyway. I’ll let her know I’ll take a few days off next month to go,” you say and it’s Emily’s turn to smile.

“That sounds great, as long as you’re sure she won’t mind,” Emily sounds hesitant but you just shake your head.

“I promise she won’t. I’d much rather spend the weekend with you anyway.”

“We’ve got a case,” JJ’s voice cuts off your conversation and you stand to follow her.

“Told you,” you call over your shoulder to Emily.

When you settle into the conference room you see Garcia already standing in the front to present. Hotch, JJ, and Rossi are sitting around the table. You glance around for the last two members of your team, but seeing no sign of them.

“Where are Morgan and Reid?” Emily asks before you can and JJ shrugs.

“I texted them, they should be here any minute,” Garcia says and on cue the two men come rushing into the room. Spencer’s hair is messed up and Morgan’s shirt is half untucked.

“Sorry, I was grabbing files from the archive room,” Spencer says and you look at Emily, raising an eyebrow.

“I was helping him reach the stuff that was too high,” Morgan says and Emily rolls her eyes and sends you a look. You both stifle your laughter, knowing that’s a blatant lie. They’re the same height but you decide to let it slide as Garcia starts the briefing.

xxxxx

The case was long and by the time your plane touched down back in DC you were all beyond ready to get home.

“You all set? I can walk you to your car,” Emily offers and you nod, the two of you saying goodbye to the rest of the team and making your way to the parking garage.

“Hell of a case, huh?” you say and Emily chuckles.

“More like the case from hell. If I have to look at those crime scene photos one more time, I’ll scream,” she says and you can’t help but agree as you walk up to your car. Instead of getting in you lean up against it and continue to talk to her. The topic changes more times than you can count but despite the exhaustion seeping into your bones, you can’t find the will to leave. You notice your team members walking by, first JJ and Reid get into her car and drive off. Then Rossi starts his fancy antique car and pulls out of the lot. Derek is next, rubbing his eyes and stifling a yawn as he throws a wave in your direction. You both wave back before turning to each other once again. You’re spinning your keys around your fingers when Hotch finally makes his way out of the building.

“You two are still here? Is everything okay?” Hotch asks and you look around, realizing there are only three cars left in the lot, yours, his, and Emily’s.

“Huh? Oh, no we’re fine. We just lost track of time,” Emily reassures him. He sends you a look you can’t decipher before he nods.

“Alright, well you should probably get home, it’s getting late,” He says and you both agree as he walks towards his car.

“He’s right. We should get going,” you tell Emily and she pulls you into a hug. It lasts maybe a bit longer than it should but neither of you say anything as you get into your respective cars and drive off.

Not long after you get home and settle into bed your phone rings. You groan, thinking you’re getting called back in so soon, but your mood lightens when you see it’s Emily.

“Hey, is everything okay?” you ask and you hear her chuckle on the other end of the line.

“Yeah. I don’t really know why I called. I guess I just wanted to say hi,” Emily says and you laugh a bit. “I guess that’s dumb.”

“No, Em. It’s not dumb. I think it’s adorable, and I’ll never say no to a chance to hear your voice,” you tell her truthfully and with that you’re picking up your conversation from earlier. You know you’re going to be fighting to stay awake at work tomorrow, but it’s worth it.

xxxxx

The next time the team gets back from a case nobody is ready to go home. It was a rough one and none of you want to be alone. When Morgan suggests drinks downtown you all agree, and decide to meet at the bar. You’re the first to arrive and you head straight for the bar, ordering a round of drinks for everyone before finding a booth you’ll all fit at. Hotch and Garcia arrive at almost the same time, both joining you.

“How’s everything going with you two?” Hotch asks and you simply shrug as Garcia goes into a tale of her most recent adventures.

“Kevin and I tried a pottery class last week, I can’t say it ended well,” She says and you all laugh.

“Emily and I did that once. I swear I was finding clay in my hair for a week,” you say and Garcia tilts her head to the side.

“You and Emily took a couples pottery class?” There’s no accusation in her voice but you still choke on your drink.

“No, it was a public class at that community college by my house. It wasn’t a couples thing,” you explain and she seems to accept your answer. She goes back to her horror story about her class but you can only think about her comment. Sure, you and Emily do a lot of couple stuff. You spend the night at each other’s house, you cancel plans to spend time with her, you’d do anything just to spend time with her. The more you think about it the more you realize friends don’t do that kind of stuff. You’re pulled away from thinking about her when she suddenly appears next to you.

“Hey, you okay?” Her voice is quiet. She doesn’t want to alert the rest of your team to your state unless you want them to know, which makes you fall a little harder.

“Uh, yeah I’m good. Just thinking about the case,” you brush it off and she takes your hand. You swear you feel sparks and your heart starts racing when she doesn’t let go immediately.

“You don’t need to think about that right now. We’re here to have fun, let’s get you another drink!” She says enthusiastically and you can’t help but smile.

“Sounds like a plan.”

xxxxx

A few hours and probably one too many shots later you sat with the whole team around the table. Morgan is in the middle of a drunken story about him and Ried betting on a basketball game and how he lost.

“I coached it in high school,” Ried says and something about a tiny 12 year old Spencer coaching a high school basketball team has you all dying laughing. You fall into Emily’s side and instead of helping you up she simply wraps an arm around you and pulls your back closer to her chest. You know you should pull away, but you can’t find the will to.

“Alright, I wanna dance. Anybody with me?” Garcia announces and JJ, Spencer, and Morgan all Jump up. With the combined pout of all four of them they’re even able to drag Hotch along.

“You two coming?” JJ asks and you can feel Emily shrug behind you.

“Nah, I’m comfy. Maybe later,” you say and she nods before following everyone else to the floor. Once she’s gone you adjust in Emily’s arms until you can see her face.

She stares at you for a few moments and you smile up at her. “What’s going on in that beautiful mind of yours?”

“Everything. Nothing. I don’t know,” she says with a shrug and you chuckle.

“Everything and nothing, huh? That’s quite a bit,” you tease for a second before brushing the hair out of her face. Your hand stays on her cheek as you wait for her to continue, but she doesn’t. “Come on, Em. Talk to me.”

“Just thinking about my future, I guess. I always do after hard cases. It makes me realize how lucky I am to even have one, and I think about what I want it to look like,” she explains and you grin. With anyone else the intimate position you’re in would be awkward, but sitting here with your legs draped across Emily’s, her hands holding you in place, one on your waist the other on your thighs, you feel content. Maybe it’s nothing to her, but one look in her eyes tells you that she feels something too, even if she doesn’t quite know what yet. You brush your thumb across her cheekbone as you listen. “I always wanted to make my way up in the FBI, maybe in Interpol, but now I don’t think I’d ever leave this team. I’d like to keep things just the way they are. The team, you…”

Your breath hitches as she trails off. “Em, I…” you almost say it. You almost tell her you love her, but before you can finish a giggling JJ and Garcia are back.

“Stop being party poopers, come dance,” Garcia whines as JJ pulls you up, and the moment is over.

xxxxx

The team goes their separate ways around 1 o'clock in the morning. Will picks up JJ and Spencer, Kevin comes down to drive Morgan and Garcia, and Hotch is sober enough to drive him and Rossi home. You’re fumbling with your phone, trying to call a taxi when it slips out of your hands. Emily catches it before it hits the ground and puts it in her own pocket.

“Come on, I’m good to drive. I’ll take you home,” Emily’s words cause you to think back on the night. While you had lost count of the drinks you and Garcia shared and taken a few shots trying to outdrink Morgan, Emily had nursed a beer or two the whole night. You nod, letting her lead you to her car.

“Thanks Em,” you say and she laughs as you fumble a bit with the car door.

“You alright there? I think you had a bit too much to drink,” she teases and you roll your eyes.

“Please. Only like, a quarter of this is from the alcohol. I’m just clumsy,” you say and she laughs again, opening the door and offering you a hand to help you in before settling into the driver's side. “Seriously though Em, I’m tipsy and stumbling but I’m not gone. I wouldn’t get behind a wheel but I’m not that impared right now. My brain is still all here.”

“I’m not judging you, y/n,” Emily promises, grabbing your hand over the center console as she pulls out of the parking lot. “Even if you were completely out of it I’d still be here to help you out. Though I’d definitely film the drunken rambles we all know and love.”

“Thanks Em. And I don’t ramble that much when I’m drunk,” you defend yourself as you notice her take a right where you normally would take a left and she’s driving 5 below the speed limit. After a few more turns you notice she’s driving you the long way home, but you don’t mind. You’ll take all the extra time with Emily Prentiss that you can get.

“Alright, we’re here,” Emily hops out to open the door for you. You turn, your legs dangling out of the car and your face inches from her’s.

“Hey Em, can we talk?” you ask quietly and she furrows her brow.

“Of course. Is everything okay?” her eyes dart across your body, as if looking for an injury you somehow managed to get with her right there the whole time. She’s going into panic mode and you grab her hand to pull her attention back to your words.

“I’m fine it’s just…” you trail off trying to find the words. “Emily, the way we are around each other-”

“I never meant to make you uncomfortable. I’m sorry if I did,” she cuts you off, trying to pull her hand out of yours but you just tighten your grip.

“No, Emily please just listen to me. I’m not uncomfortable with our relationship. Not even close, but this isn’t how friends act. We both know that. If Garcia looked at me the way you do or JJ held you like I do, you can’t tell me it wouldn’t weird you out,” you practically beg her to understand what you're saying but she shakes her head, looking at your hands, but not pulling away this time.

“That’s not what this is. Sure I’m closer with you than I am with them, but this isn’t anything more than friendship,” she sounds like she’s trying to convince herself more than you and you nod.

“You can lie to me and say you don't love me. But I know you do, and I love you too, Em. Nothing has to change if you don’t want it to, or if you want our relationship to be more platonic, I’ll respect that too. But I have to tell you that I am in love with you Emily Prentiss.” Rather than responding Emily crashes her lips into yours. The kiss doesn’t last long, neither of you can hold back your smiles, but as soon as you pull away she says the words you need to hear.

“I love you too, y/n.”

tag list: (let me know if you want to be added or taken off)

@rvgrsbrns @rororo06 @prizmix-and-friends @worlds-in-words @im-salt-but-not-salty @5aftermidnight @riotmaximoff

#emily prentiss #Emily Prentiss x reader #Emily prentiss x female!reader #emily #Criminal Minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds reader insert #Emily prentiss reader insert #Emily prentiss fic #Emily prentiss story #emily prentiss fanfic #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #friends don't

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gabriel-agreste-has-no-rights · 4 years ago

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Rating: T

Summary: From cleaning up their city, to strengthening their partnership, to untangling their love lives—New York has taught Ladybug and Chat Noir that they can get through anything together. Well, everything except automatic doors. (New York special reveal fic)

Word Count: 6722

XXX

Marinette had gotten back from New York three days ago, but it wasn’t until she saw Chat Noir that she really came home.

He’d arrived early to the meeting spot—a rooftop where someone had planted a pot of blue forget-me-nots—and he hummed under his breath while perching at the roof’s edge.

“Little kitty on a roof... all alone without his lady…”

She thought she’d overcome the stutter in her heart when she heard that tune. But that was before she’d almost lost her partner again.

“Not alone anymore,” she said, plopping down next to him and bumping his shoulder.

He didn’t bump back. That was weird.

“Kitty?” She leaned forward, trying to get a better look at his face. The mask made it difficult to tell, but she was pretty sure his green eyes were rimmed with red. “Are you alright?”

He shrugged too quickly. “It’s nothing. I’m really glad to see you again, LB.”

“Which is why you haven’t looked at me this whole time.”

Finally, he met her eyes, and she gasped. He’d definitely been crying. A lot. What had… what had happened? Was it just seeing the city for the first time since they’d been back? Mayor Bourgeois had done a surprisingly good job of organizing the cleanup, but there was still a long way to go. That was the reason they’d come out on patrol tonight, so surely he’d expected the damage.

Could he still be upset about everything that had happened between them? No. He knew she’d forgiven him.

Still, she squeezed his hand just in case.

“Chat. You know you can always tell me the truth.”

His eyes went wide, and then fresh tears welled in them.

“I—right. I promised I’d never hide the truth from you again.” He wiped his eyes with the heel of his free hand. “I’ve just been stupid. Even more stupid, if that’s possible.”

“You’re not stupid,” she said. Stupidly. She didn’t know what would help, but surely she could come up with something more comforting than that. “You’re the brave, amazing, irreplaceable Chat Noir.”

He snorted. “My girlfriend thinks I’m replaceable.”

The world screeched to a halt. The moon could’ve fallen from the sky, and she wouldn’t have noticed.

“You have a girlfriend?”

Chat Noir winced. Oops. She probably shouldn’t have shouted right by his ear.

“I had a girlfriend. For almost a month.”

“And you didn’t tell me?”

His brow scrunched under his mask. “I didn’t want you to think I was trying to make you jealous. And… I didn’t tell anyone, actually. It kind of had to be secret in case my father…” He shook his head. “Sorry. I don’t want to get too close to my identity. Which is another reason I didn’t tell you.”

Of course. There was no good reason for him to tell her.

She still felt like she should’ve known.

“I’m sorry. You had every right to keep your personal life private.” She rubbed her thumb over the back of his hand. “And I’m sorry about your girlfriend, too. She clearly doesn’t know who she’s missing out on.”

He looked up from where he’d been staring at their hands. “I—uh-um-hhhh-yeah.”

She made a noise somewhere between an eep and a cough, jerking her hand back so quickly she almost fell backwards.

“I—I mean, anyone would be lucky to date you—no! Um, you’re a catch?” Oh, that was even worse! What was wrong with her? “You—you know what I mean!”

His head tilted. “I, um. Do I?”

She dropped her head in her hands. She didn’t even know what she meant. She was still in love with Adrien. The last thing she wanted to do was give Chat false hope.

“Sorry,” she groaned. “Lately I can’t get two words out without making a mess of things.”

“Join the club.” He snorted.

“I might not be much help, but… do you want to talk about it?”

“You—you’d let me?”

“You did say you weren’t going to hide things from me anymore.” She smiled, bumping his shoulder.

This time, he bumped her back. “I guess I did.”

He paused, seeming to gather his thoughts. The sounds of traffic drifted up from below to fill the gap. Funny how even the traffic felt more like home in Paris.

“It was my fault, as usual,” he murmured. “I didn’t tell her I was leaving Paris, either.”

“You didn’t?” It made sense that he wouldn’t want to hurt his partner, but why would he hide from someone in his civilian life?

“Like I said. Stupid.” He shook his head.

“Not stupid enough to break up with you over.” She frowned. “Not if she really loved you.”

That probably wasn’t the most tactful thing to say, either. She hoped Chat’s girlfriend loved him. He’d always been so full of love, it was difficult to imagine him with someone who wouldn’t return it.

“It… wasn’t just that.” He took a deep breath. “Promise you won’t hate me?”

That question didn’t reassure her, but she still knew her answer.

“You’re my best friend, kitty. I could never hate you.”

The tension drained from his shoulders.

“Right. I should know that by now. It’s just hard to remember, when I’m so scared and stupid and—I think I might have accidentally cheated on her.”

Marinette blinked. Chat? Cheating? The boy who would rather turn Marinette down in front of her Marichat-shipping papa than hide his feelings for Ladybug?

“What did you do?”

His ears drooped. He looked so limp without the over-the-top confidence that normally filled him.

“I danced with another girl. And hugged her a lot. I thought it was as friends but then my other friend posted some pictures of us to Instagram, because she didn’t know that I was dating K—my girlfriend, and it looked way worse than it was and my girlfriend thinks I’m in love with this other girl and I… the worst and best thing is she might be right.”

Wow. That was. There was a lot to unpack there.

“You’re… in love with… two people?” Neither of which are me?

No. Bad Marinette. This wasn’t about her; this was about Chat Noir. Besides, she wanted him to move on!

“I don’t know. All I know is that I never wanted to hurt either of them, and I feel awful.”

...Was this about her? The sentiment definitely hit too close to home.

“It stinks, doesn’t it.” She sighed.

“More than Plagg’s cheese.”

That got a smile out of her. “I wish I knew how to help, but the truth is, I’ve never had any luck with love either.”

Chat’s brow furrowed. “But what about the boy you…?”

Her throat clogged. Memories flashed through her mind—her and Adrien dancing in the sky, tumbling through doorways, accidental touches and soft smiles and words she’d said too late.

“This isn’t about me,” she said, banishing those thoughts.“We’re working on your love life tonight.”

Unraveling hers would probably require an intervention from Bunnyx. Or a Lucky Charm. Why hadn’t she thought of that before?

Because Tikki would kill me, probably.

“I don’t think there’s much to work on,” he muttered. “I blew it with my girlfriend. And what if I do try to ask out the other girl, but I just make the same mistakes again?”

Marinette smiled and placed her hand over his arm. “You always learn from your mistakes, kitty. And you’re always thinking of other people first. If you just learn how to be honest with everyone—including yourself—I don’t think you’ll have a problem.”

Wow. Three whole coherent sentences. That was miraculous.

“Heh. And you said you didn’t have any love advice.”

“Well… I guess I can give it, but I can’t take it.” She grimaced. If only she’d been honest with Adrien…

But it wasn’t over. She knew how much he meant to her, and she knew what she stood to lose. Somehow, she’d find a way to tell him.

He bumped her shoulder. “Come on, bug. Spill the tea.”

She blinked before bursting out laughing. “Spill the tea?”

“What? That’s what you say when you want your friends to tell you some juicy secrets, right?”

“Ew. Please never call my secrets juicy. They’re more like… tangled up yarn, so knotted even I barely know what’s happening anymore.”

He winked. “I’m a cat. Playing with yarn is what I do best.”

She bit her lip. He’d opened up to her. By her own logic—that of no unnecessary secrets—she should return the favor. But could she really do that to him, knowing how long he’d pined after her?

It doesn’t matter. He’s in love with someone else now. Maybe even two someone elses.

The thought was still so bizarre, she could hardly comprehend it. Clearly he’d been serious about the yellow rose. He’d moved on, and she… well, she was still where she’d started. Chasing after Adrien, falling farther and farther behind.

“Maybe another night,” she said. A coward’s retreat.

He gave her a long look before nodding. “Alright.”

She let out a breath of relief. Another night. He was an outside perspective. She would tell him later, if only because he might give clearer advice.

She stood and dusted off her legs, even though there was no dirt there.

“Vacation’s over. We’ve got some cleaning up to do.”

XXX

“Hey. It’s okay.” She squeezed Chat’s hand when he paused in front of their statue. Or, well, what was left of it. Senti-Robostus had snapped the bronze Ladybug off, then tossed her into the front of a nearby convenience store. The statue of Chat Noir looked lonely without her perched on top.

“This isn’t one we can fix, is it.” His voice was sandpaper-rough.

“No. I don’t think so,” she admitted. “But it’s okay. I never really liked that statue anyway.”

It always reminded her of Copycat, who had turned out to be a total creep. The Ladyblog had had to ban Theo’s accounts from the discussion boards too many times for comfort.

“...We should get moving again, then,” Chat said, but neither of them did. They remained standing in place, still linked by their hands.

They’d been shifting rubble for hours, using their enhanced strength and even their powers. Each time Marinette fed Tikki and transformed, she felt more exhausted than the last. But Chat had to feel even worse. His Cataclysm was the most useful for clearing chunks of broken walls, while her Lucky Charm was less reliable when not facing a concrete enemy. The one score had been a bag of cement mix to fill in a busted sidewalk.

“We can’t fix everything in one night,” she said. “We can patrol again tomorrow. Or maybe the night after.” She had a feeling she’d be too sore to move in the morning, enhanced strength or not.

“Easy for you to say,” he muttered. “It’s not your fault that everything’s broken.”

She stared at him, stunned. “Chat. This is just as much my fault as it is yours.”

“But—”

“No buts.” She pressed a finger to his lips. “Paris is our city. Not yours. Not mine. Ours.”

He didn’t argue, but his gaze still remained fixed on the ground.

“I could have stayed. I could have downloaded an akuma alert app. There are so many things I could’ve done differently, it could eat me alive,” she admitted, her voice trembling. “I don’t want that to happen to you.”

“It’s so hard,” he whispered.

She dropped her hand from his lips. “I know. But we’ll get through it together.”

He was silent for a moment before nodding. “You’re right. You and me against the world… or in this case, you and me against a bunch of crushed buildings.”

She smiled. It might not be a glamorous part of the job, but they would do their part to make it up to their city.

She raised her fist, and he bumped her knuckles gently.

“I’ll let you know when I’m free for next patrol,” he said, a little more life returning to his voice. “Probably the day after tomorrow. My family’s been on edge lately, with… well, you know.”

He nodded towards the broken statue.

“Right. I’ll keep an eye on Plagg, then.”

Chat chuckled. “Plagg” was what she’d named the little cat toy that he had the remote for.

This time, she looked forward to hearing the toy’s tiny mew.

XXX

It turned out to be three days before they could meet for patrol again.

“Soooo.” Chat walked backwards in front of her, grinning in a way that was somehow both obnoxious and adorable. “It’s another night.”

Oh. She should’ve known he wouldn’t let that go so easily, especially now that he seemed to be in a better mood. Had he asked out the other girl he liked? Or did he patch things up with his girlfriend? Or maybe he did neither, and he just knew how to move on.

“Technically, it’s not night yet.” She pointed to the sun that sat low over the skyline. “Also, there’s a—”

He tripped over a crack in the sidewalk, then toppled backwards against a No Parking sign. The metal clanged like a gong where his head hit it.

“—pole behind you.” She giggled.

He pouted, rubbing the back of his head. “No Parking? Why would anyone even try to park here?”

They’d arrived at the worst scene of damage: in front of the Eiffel Tower. There wasn’t even a road left to park on. Most of the chasm had been filled in by now, but there were construction crews repairing the pipes and electrical wiring that had been uprooted.

Of course, the workers had gone home for the evening already. Marinette and Chat would have to be careful not to get in the way of their unfinished work. Luckily, there was still plenty of rubble to move, and they’d come prepared with their powerups tonight.

“I’ve got two sets of ears, my lady. That makes me twice as amazing of a listener.” He swiveled the leather ears on top of his hair. When had he learned how to control that?

“Why don’t you save the interrogation for after patrol?”

“It’s not an interrogation! You accepted my yellow rose, which means we are friends for time and all eternity. And friends can ask each other about important things in their lives. Like their crushes.”

“I regret ever bringing that up.” She pulled the purple macaron from her yo-yo and tossed it into her mouth. At least she couldn’t say anything incriminating while she was chewing.

The power shocked over her, leaving her magenta space suit in its wake. A grin tugged at her lips. She’d never get tired of that.

“It can’t be that bad.” Chat unzipped a pocket and dug out a purple slice of camembert. He made a face before chewing it. “Not as bad as this nasty cheese, anyway.”

He transformed too, plasma-like wings sprouting from his back.

“You know, I can make you the powerup macarons, too. That way you only have to use the cheese if you’re giving it to Plagg.”

“Wait, really?” His eyes widened. “Why didn’t you say that weeks ago?”

“Because it’s too fun to watch you make that face.” She smirked and flicked his glowing bell. “But I’m willing to pass up on that in exchange for you leaving my love life alone.”

He sighed. “If that’s really what you want.”

He looked surprisingly dejected. Was it just because she was keeping secrets?

“I’m surprised you want to know about… Him,” she said quietly. “I don’t want to make you feel worse.”

“You don’t have to worry about me, my lady. I haven’t figured out exactly what I feel for my friend yet, but your advice has helped me start. I just want to help you in return.”

He smiled behind his helmet. He meant it. Somehow, despite all the times she’d turned him down, he just wanted her to feel better.

“Alright,” she relented.

“I swear, I—wait, what?”

“I said alright.” She chuckled. “Though I’m a little curious how you planned to convince me.”

He blushed. “I was going to swear on my honor as your friend that I would take your not-juicy secrets to my grave.”

“Thanks for the thought. Now come help me with this chunk of cement, and I’ll ‘spill the tea.’”

XXX

It was surprisingly hard not to spill too much tea. As they flew pieces of rubble out to space, she told him everything she could without jeopardizing her identity. A few unspecific details, vague confession plans, even that there was another boy in love with her. Though that seemed less relevant now that she realized she couldn’t quench her feelings for Adrien.

“Wow. Can you imagine being dense enough not to realize Ladybug is in love with you?” He sighed wistfully. Maybe he hadn’t completely given up on her then.

“He’s not dense.” She grunted as she shoved the chunk of road with her shoulder, finally sending it floating off out of the atmosphere. “He’s sheltered. And I don’t always send the clearest signals.”

“I guess helping set him up with a different girl would be a mixed message.” He winced. Without giving names, she’d explained the whole double-date fiasco. He’d been polite enough to stifle his laughter.

“I told you my love life was tangled. I don’t know that there’s anything you can do to help, but thanks for listening anyway.”

She adjusted her wings, slowing the flare from her jet pack.

“Wait.” He grabbed her hand before she could begin her descent towards earth.

She stopped, barely daring to breathe. Had he changed his mind? Did he still want to be a thread in her knotted love life after all?

“You told me to be honest with myself,” he continued, his voice soft but sure. “It sounds like you’ve already done that—so be honest with him, too.”

Oh. She grimaced. Of course he’d use her own advice against her.

“It’s not that easy.”

“I know. But if you never tell him how you feel, you’re not giving him the chance to swoon at how amazing you are.”

He mimed falling backwards, literally head over heels. He turned a full 360 degrees in midair before grinning back at her.

“You’re such a dork.” She shook her head fondly. “You’re right, though. That’s what everyone else has told me too. I can’t keep backing down, not if I want anything to change between us.”

Despite imagining a thousand scenarios where they were married with three kids, Marinette found herself unable to picture herself actually asking Adrien out. It felt as far away as an alternate universe.

“I can help you out, if you want,” he said cheerily. “Just put your communicator in your ear, and I’ll feed you all the best pickup lines in real time.”

She laughed. “Thanks, but I think my awkward stuttering will still be better than that.”

“You’re right. You should give yourself some credit. You did call me a catch, after all.” He winked.

“Chat!” She punched his arm. “I was just trying to cheer you up!”

“Uh-huh. Suuure.”

He was just messing with her. He wouldn’t be trying to help her with Adrien if he still had a crush on her, would he? Even after all this time, it was still difficult to tell when he was actually flirting, and when he was just engaging in friendly banter.

...When she thought of it that way, it was less surprising that his ex-girlfriend had misjudged his actions too.

“What about you?” She asked as they floated back towards earth. “Do you have any updates on your love situation?”

“Sort of.” He sighed. “My girlfriend is clear about her feelings. She’s given me too many second chances already, and my uncertainty has hurt her. I can’t expect her to keep waiting while I try to figure out what I want.”

“That’s fair.” Marinette nodded. “I’m glad she can be so honest with you, even if it hurts. She must trust you a lot.”

If only she could have that kind of trust in Adrien. She… she could, couldn’t she? Their friendship wouldn’t be destroyed after one tiny declaration of love. Not after everything he’d said about her in New York.

Right?

“She’s never been afraid to speak her mind. It’s one thing I really admire about her.” Chat smiled wistfully. “I hope that she finds someone who’s better to her than I was.”

“Chat…”

“No, my lady. She deserves someone who’s as decisive as she is. Someone who can love her the way she loved me.”

That sounded almost familiar. Hadn’t Marinette had that same thought about Chat Noir?

“Yeah,” she murmured. “Yeah, I guess she does.”

XXX

“What’s on the agenda today?” Chat asked brightly when he arrived at their rooftop. “Restoring the Arc de Triumph? Planting more grass in the park?”

“No.” Marinette fidgeted with her hands. She’d rehearsed how to ask this a thousand times in the past few days, but she still felt stupid. “I actually, er… I wanted to take you up on that offer.”

His ears perked up. “You’re going to let me cut your hair?”

“No, not that offer.” She smacked her forehead. She’d forgotten he’d mentioned that when she’d complained about how her pigtails stuck out of her space helmet. “The one you said? About the communicators, and helping me, with um, Him…?”

Chat’s jaw dropped. It would have made a great photo, if she’d gotten out her bugphone in time.

“You’re actually going to use my pickup lines?”

“No! Those are still awful.” Except the one about her being the lady of his dreams, but he didn’t need to know how soft that had made her. “In fact, I don’t actually want us to use our communicators at all.”

He blinked. “So, you want to take me up on my offer, but you don’t want me to do a single thing I offered. Makes perfect sense.”

“Ugh. Sorry, I’m so bad at this.” She should just pretend she was explaining a plan to Alya. Or maybe that she was coming up with a solution to her Lucky Charm. That was never so awkward, right?

“I want you to use this,” she clarified, pulling the toy cat out of her yo-yo. “I always chicken out before I tell him how I feel. I was thinking, if I felt like you were there… I might be a little braver.”

He still looked stunned, but a smile slowly crept across his face.

“So I can be your wingman?”

“...Sort of, I guess? All you need to do is push the button when I inevitably start to panic.”

His head tilted. “But how will I know when you’re trying to talk to him? You need a Plagg, too.”

“You’re one step ahead, kitty. I was thinking we could go pick one up before patrol. Since you’ll be keeping it, you should get to choose what kind of buzzer you want.”

He beamed at that. “Brilliant as usual, my lady.”

Whew. She’d worried he would think it was stupid.

“Come on.” She unhooked her yo-yo from her waist. “The store I bought Plagg at was set to reopen today. If we’re quick, we can get there before they close for the night.”

He kept pace with her as they swung and leapt towards the west side of the city. The novelty shop had been in the path of destruction, but by now most of the buildings were functional again.

The repairs had restored Chat Noir’s good humor, too. Either that or he’d sorted out his own romances. Curious as she was, she found herself too nervous to ask.

I’m asking out Adrien. It doesn’t matter if Chat Noir gets a girlfriend. Him having a girlfriend hadn’t changed things between them before, after all. He’d always be her partner. Always.

She dropped down in front of the store—

—and felt her soul leave her body.

“Nooooo,” she groaned, gaping at the brand new, shiny, automatic doors.

Chat Noir landed beside her and strapped his staff to his back.

“What’s wrong, my lady? Are they all out of—” He blinked at the doors, too. “Oh.”

Oh? Was her fear of automatic doors that obvious? Okay, fear was a strong word, but there was no way she could get into the store with her dignity intact. She’d embarrassed herself in front of Chat plenty of times, but it was still light out, and too many civilians were on the street.

“I, just, uh—feel a draft coming out of this store! Maybe another place sells the same kind of toys?” She grinned uncomfortably.

It wasn’t likely. They were marketed towards people in long-distance relationships. She’d been lucky to notice the beeper toys when she was looking for design inspirations in this out-of-the-way shop.

“Maybe. Do you know where? Most stores will be closing pretty soon.”

She sighed. That had been such a flimsy excuse, she was surprised he’d even bought it.

“No, it’s fine. You just—might want to go in without me.” She tapped her fingers together. “They, um, have some toy spiders in there that are reeeeeally scary.”

“Oh, no!” He replied too dramatically. “I’m, uh, afraid of spiders too!”

“...Are you making fun of me?”

He grinned nervously. “Why would you think that?”

“Because I know you’re not afraid of spiders. You picked one up and moved it the other day because you didn’t want to kill it.” It had been really cute, even if she’d originally screamed for him to squish it.

“Crud, I forgot about that,” he said under his breath.

They were drawing stares by now, standing in the glow of the shop’s windows without stepping inside. One little kid waved at them, and Chat waved back.

“It doesn’t matter.” She shook her head. “We’re going in this shop, and we’re getting you a beeper toy, and we’re not going to be stopped by some stupid automatic doors.”

“Automatic—wait, you can’t get through automatic doors either?”

She didn’t answer. She was busy slamming into the glass.

“Ow,” she muttered with her nose squished against the door. Which still. Didn’t. Open.

Behind her, Chat Noir started to laugh.

“Shut up,” she said, but it probably didn’t have much effect when muffled by the glass.

“Sorry, sorry!” He rushed to help her as she peeled herself off. “It’s just, this happens all the time to me and my good friend. I thought I was going to be the one smushed like a bug on a windshield.”

“There’s only one bug here,” she said, brushing off the front of her suit. “And she’s going to get through those stupid doors if it’s the last thing she does.”

“My lady—”

Frustrated, she banged her fists against the glass—

—and shattered it into a million pieces.

Sirens blared. She yelped, jumping back towards Chat.

This was it. Her life was over. She was going to go to jail and lose her miraculous all because she’d used super-strength on a stupid door!

“Uh-oh.” Chat gulped.

“M-miraculous ladybug!” She yelled on reflex, though she didn’t have a Lucky Charm. Could a Lucky Charm even fix this? A villain hadn’t done the damage at all, unless she counted as a villain, because she’d just committed vandalism, and oh no the owner was coming towards them and—

“Ladybug! Chat Noir!” The man with the white mustache looked more concerned than angry. That was… that was good, right? “Did an akuma come through here? Do I need to evacuate? There’s no one else in the store right now. I don’t think anyone realized I’ve reopened.”

She blinked. Would it be alright to lie, just this once? To avoid being arrested, losing her miraculous, and letting Paris fall to Hawkmoth?

“No, no, there’s nothing to worry about,” Chat answered for her, holding up his hands.

Meanwhile, the shopkeeper pressed a button on the wall, turning off the alarm. If only her pounding heart could be quieted so easily.

“It was an accident,” Chat continued. “It’s my fault.”

...Wait, what?

“I was trying to hold open the door for my lady, as all good gentlecats do. But my powers of destruction and automatic doors don’t get along.” He smiled ruefully, then produced a wad of euros from his pocket. The shopkeeper looked as shocked as Marinette was. “I hope this will be enough to cover the damage. And I’m very sorry. You have a lovely shop.”

The shopkeeper’s glasses slid down his nose. He pushed them back up, still not moving to accept the money. “Chat Noir... this is far too much.”

“Consider it a tip.” He winked.

A tip of… she couldn’t count every bill in his palm, but she swore that was at least three hundred euros. Where did he get that kind of money? Did he have some kind of superhero donation drive she didn’t know about?

“Please, at least buy something,” the owner insisted. “If there’s no akuma, then I assume you were coming to make a purchase? Or was it a return? Was the item you purchased not to your liking, Ladybug?”

“N-no, it was perfect!” She said quickly. Her heart still hadn’t stopped pounding. He remembered her. What was his name again? She should be better at remembering citizens’ names. “I—we—um, wanted another one, actually.”

“A matched set.” Chat grinned. “Would that be alright?”

“Of course.” He looked relieved. “Right this way.”

Chat stepped through the broken door frame—which opened just in time to trip him. Marinette tried to catch him by his tail, but his weight dragged her down too. They both ended up sprawled among the broken glass.

“Oww…” He groaned against the tile floor.

She picked a shard out of her cheek. “Why does this keep happening to me?”

The shopkeeper blinked down at them. “On second thought, I’ll bring my options out to you.”

That was probably for the best. While he left, she and Chat untangled their limbs and helped each other up.

“Sorry.” He grimaced. “I didn’t mean for my bad luck to rub off on you.”

“Bad luck?” She tried to brush some glass out of her suit, but it just ended up sticking in her hand. “If anyone’s unlucky, it’s me. This kind of thing happens to me all the time.”

“My lady, you haven’t been this clumsy since the day we met. And I know for a fact that automatic doors hate me.”

“They hate me more. I couldn’t get through them once in New York.”

“Me either.”

She blinked up at him. Glass shards were still scattered in his hair, reflecting the shop’s bright lights. Yes, she could picture him being this unlucky—but could they really both be unlucky in the same exact way?

“I fell in a tangled mess with my crush, and then the doors kept smacking into us. I’m pretty sure my ribs are still bruised from it.” There was no way his luck was worse than that.

Pink flushed across his cheeks. “Uh… me too?”

She snorted. “It’s not a competition, Chat. You don’t have to make up stuff to prove you have worse luck than me.”

“I’m not making anything up.” He took a step forward and brushed a piece of glass from her bangs. “Did you say that happened to you and… and your crush?”

His voice came out as a squeak. But—if he was being serious—

How many French kids had been in New York last week? And more importantly, how many had been repeatedly squished between automatic doors?

No. There’s no way. She was the girl who couldn’t even get through automatic doors—she was not this lucky.

“No, you couldn’t be her.” His face fell. “She wouldn’t even sit next to me on the plane. There’s no way she has a crush on me.”

Her mouth hung open.

“Adrien?” Her shout was tinged with panic. She was lucky that the street had cleared out, probably because the citizens thought their heroes were investigating an akuma.

His wide eyes snapped back to hers.

“M-Marinette?”

“Oh my gosh. You’re—you’re really Adrien. Adrien Agreste.” The love of her life. Who couldn’t even believe she liked him!

She wanted to shatter like the automatic door. Maybe then she could avoid the horrible, soul-crushing embarrassment of admitting her feelings after committing accidental vandalism.

“And that’s… okay?” His voice was barely a whisper.

“Okay?” Her grin must have looked manic, which probably didn’t reassure him. She tried to force a normal expression.

...What was normal again?

He swallowed and rubbed the back of his neck—only to grimace and pull out another glass shard.

“Sorry. I—you didn’t want to know, and—” His expression turned to horror. “Do I have to give up my miraculous now?”

“What? No!” She clasped her hands over his before he could even think of removing his ring. “Adrien—you’re the only Chat Noir for me. I’m thrilled it’s you.”

“Really?” His ears perked up. “But I thought… I’m confused. You said you were stuck in the automatic doors with your crush… but that was…?”

She smiled as tears pricked her eyes.

“You.”

After all this time, it was him. Adrien was her partner.

And she could trust her partner.

She rested her hand on his cheek, careful not to press any pieces of glass deeper into his skin. “It’s always been you.”

The corners of his eyes crinkled, filling with water that spilled over onto his mask.

“Even when I thought I was moving on from you, I guess I was falling right back.” He chuckled and wiped his eyes. Then he rested his hand over hers. His ring was a spot of cold against her fingers.

“This would only happen to us.” She laughed too. “And here I wanted your help to confess to, well, you.”

“That would’ve been awkward.” He grinned. “If we didn’t realize each others’ identities now, we would’ve then.”

She snorted. “I wouldn’t give us that much credit. We’ve both been stupider than that before.”

“Fair enough. All this time, Ladybug was in love with me!”

“You do realize that means you called yourself dense, right?”

He smacked his forehead, then winced. “Ow. I’d like to contest that, but I think I just proved it.”

She held back a laugh. “As long as you don’t tease me for taking two years to confess to you, I’ll call it even.”

“Two years?” He blinked. “You’ve had a crush on me for that long?”

She shrugged sheepishly. “I did say it’s always been you.”

His expression melted into something so soft, she could hardly stand it. So it was a relief when he pulled her into an even softer—if glass-filled—hug.

“It was you, too. Marinette you,” he murmured by her ear. “It took me too long to realize it, but I always knew there was something special about you.”

Her heart soared at that, even higher than when they’d been dancing in the sky. It all made sense now. Alya had posted those photos on Instagram. Neither of them had known Adrien had a girlfriend—Kagami, probably. Hopefully she wouldn’t end her friendship with Marinette over this. They were supposed to have their weekly orange juice tomorrow; Marinette would make sure to be honest with her, too.

But right now, that could wait. All she wanted to do was feel the warmth of Adrien’s arms—Chat Noir’s arms.

“It was Chat Noir you, too,” she admitted. “I didn’t want to let you go. I think I took your love for granted, even when I was in love with ‘Adrien.’”

She felt his arms tighten when she said love.

“Considering you were torn between me and me, I think I can forgive that.” He chuckled. “Actually, I could do more than forgive you. I could kiss you right now.”

Tingles shot through her. Was she ready for that? She’d hardly been able to imagine this moment—and she’d definitely never imagined it like this. Covered in glass, Chat’s claws gently cupping her shoulderblade.

Somehow, it still blew all of her fantasies out of the water.

“I could let you,” she softly replied.

He pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against hers. “Really? I mean… I can still hardly believe this is happening. I can still hardly believe you’re Marinette.”

She frowned. “Why? Because I’m so clumsy?”

“No, because you’re so—” he waved a hand, searching for the word. “Perfect isn’t the right word. You’re endearing, and smart, and brave enough to stand up to my father. You can crush me at video games, and you can forgive me even when I don’t deserve it.”

“Adrien—”

“I left you.”

In that moment, something shifted in her mind. She knew he was Adrien, but finally, she could hear it in his voice.

“I left you twice. As Adrien and as Chat Noir. How can you still want me?”

She took his face in both hands. Never again, not for one second, would she let this boy feel like he wasn’t wanted.

“How could I not want you, Adrien?”

He broke, the tears flowing freely. They glimmered off the bits of glass still stuck to his face. She wished she could clear both of those away, that she could stop him from hurting.

“See? This is why I can hardly believe it. I’m not supposed to be this lucky.”

“Me either. But I’m tired of worrying about what we’re supposed to be.” She smiled. “I love you, kitty. And if you plan on collecting that kiss—”

He did. Somehow he was both clumsy and careful, probably because he was dodging the bits of glass still stuck to her face. Not that she minded. It was him, and it was her—Adrien and Marinette, Ladybug and Chat Noir.

Though it should’ve been the last thing on her mind, she couldn't help thinking that both of Alya’s ships had sailed tonight.

She was just about to deepen this kiss when Adrien pulled back.

“What?” she asked. Had she been that bad of a kisser?

But no, he was looking at the shopkeeper. Who had his arms full of animal toys, and a face red enough to blend in with her suit.

“Oh—ah—sorry to interrupt.” He cleared his throat. “Did you still want…?”

Her face flushed too. She didn’t think it was possible to be any more embarrassed after breaking the man’s doors, but she hadn’t thought it was possible to kiss Adrien without spontaneously combusting, either.

“I don’t suppose we need one now, do we?” She glanced at Adrien sheepishly.

“That doesn’t mean I don’t want one.” He inspected the boxes in the man’s arms.

“If afraid we’re out of Ladybug toys. They’re our hottest selling item right now. I even looked in the back to be sure none were hiding there.”

Adrien grinned, and she remembered why she never would’ve guessed his identity. That toothy smile was all Chat.

“That’s okay. I know the next best thing.”

XXX

“I hope you know that I’m never going to press the button,” Marinette said when they returned to their rooftop.

“What? And I thought you loved me.” Adrien put a hand over his chest in dramatic offense.

“You obviously don’t love me if you thought the best toy to represent me was a cow.”

“Cows are so cute though!” He held up the black-and-white cow beeper toy, which he’d already named Stompp. “And she has spots, just like you!”

Cows might not be cute, but Adrien certainly was. And he knew she couldn’t resist his pleading kitty eyes.

She sighed and pressed the button.

“Moo!” Chat mimicked the toy. “See? Moo and mew! They even sound alike. What noise would a ladybug have made, anyway?”

“It would probably just call you a dork.” She smirked.

“Or it might tell me it loves me.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

“Or,” she took his hand, “you could just be happy with your real girlfriend telling you she loves you.”

His smile was soft and warm, enfolding her like a blanket.

“I think I can live with that.”

#ml new york special #ml new york #miraculous ladybug #chat noir #ladybug #fic tag #tali writes #reveal #very happy with how this turned out #thanks to alyce and winter for all the help!!

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ttttaehyungie · 4 years ago

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sincerely, but no longer yours | chapter 3

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sincerely, but no longer yours | ex!kim namjoon x reader

genre | angst, exes au

summary | It started as a coping mechanism as getting the words out provided a form of catharsis. But now you can’t stop writing these love letters, even with the knowledge that they’ll never get sent. After all, who writes love letters to their ex?

word count | 3.9k

chapter rating | PG-13

warnings | none

a/n | here we gooooo!! part threeeee c: can’t believe I actually churned this out when my life has been in c h a o s also this is barely edited im so sorry

Percussive knocks rap crisply on your apartment door. You fling the door open and your heart leaps in your chest at the sight. There he stands.

Up and rising dance instructor. Groove personified. Ball of literal sunshine.

And in your experience, the best big brother on the planet.

The overnight bag hits the wooden floor with a hollow thud as he abandons it in favor of yanking you into a tight embrace. A grin widens on your face that you're certain mirrors his.

"Hoseok," you breathe into his chest, your face smushed against his oversized yellow shirt. The enveloping warmth of his arms around you has you melting. "I've missed you so much."

"I've missed you more. Let me take a good look at you." He puts you at arm's length. "You've grown so much in the time we've been apart."

"Hoseok." You roll your eyes, but the smile on your face doesn’t falter. "It's only been a month."

"Hey. A lot happens in a month."

The truth of his words, unknown to him but oddly relevant nonetheless, has you biting your lip before you can stop yourself.

"Here, I'll help you with your bag," you say, hauling the duffel bag off the ground, giving you something else to look at. You can only hope that Hoseok hasn't already picked up on the nervous blips. "It's been a long ride for you."

"And they say chivalry is dead," he jokes, but follows after you without further comment. Guess you're in the clear.

But you steer the conversation to a topic that you know will engross him for sure. Y’know. Just in case.

"So, what classes did you sign up for this weekend?" you ask over your shoulder, managing a tone so casual that you celebrate internally.

"You'll never believe it.” The words come tumbling out, voice shimmering with excitement. Even without turning to look at him, you can picture the way his eyes are surely set alight. You know this tone, and it has you hooked now, the anticipation of amazing news builds in your chest. "Y'know that choreographer, Jo? The one that's completely booked out every single weekend?”

You nod quickly, turning to look at him with wide eyes.

“Well.” The smugness in his tone is thick. “Guess who got a slot for her class!”

Genuine surprise elicits a gasp from you. "No way! How'd you even manage that?"

"Hard work and sheer determination.” A fist pump punctuates his words. “I camped on the booking site on multiple devices with multiple accounts so I could snag a spot the moment the slots open."

You snort at his antics.

"I can't believe I'm going to be learning from such a giant in the industry," he says, unable to resist breaking into a little dance as he pushes the door to the study cum guest room open. "It feels like I've won the freaking lottery."

The effervescent excitement is uncontainable. Even the task of unpacking can’t interrupt his rave about the choreographer who shot to cyber fame with her fluid movements. You let him let it loose, leaning against the doorway, watching him.

"Ok," he says, putting his hands on his hips. "That's enough about me. How did your lecture go today?"

The breath catches in your lungs, the shock of seeing Namjoon coming back in a second wave.

“It was alright,” you attempt to mask it in the same casual tone you mustered up just minutes ago. But there’s an unmistakable tightness to your words.

Hoseok’s eyes bore into you. Damn. There’s no escaping now.

“____?” he probes, his tone laced with the same concern lying in his gaze.

"Hey, um," you rub at your arms, "we have an unexpected dinner guest tonight. Is that ok with you?"

“____,” he repeats, firmer this time. “What happened?"

You exhale heavily, grounding yourself with the feel of the carpet underneath your scrunched up toes as you tell him, "I bumped into Joon today. At the lecture."

Chancing a glance at him to gauge his reaction, you watch as he schools his features into an expressionless mask. But his eyes widen by just a fraction, betraying his surprise as he processes the information.

After a second, he nods stiffly, and turns back to the duffel bag on the bed to take the last of his belongings out. His tone is measured and even as he asks, "How was it?"

The plush mattress provides you marginal comfort as you plop onto the bed next to him.

"Honestly? Like a punch in the gut." The laugh that escapes you is bitter. "When will I stop being winded just by the mere sight of him, Hobi?"

The smile he shoots you is empathetic but sad. He reaches over to muss up your hair, the action tender and fond. "It'll happen in time," he promises.

The restrictive tightness in your chest is uncomfortable and you attempt to expel it in a sigh as you lean backwards, propped up by the elbow. Staring at your toes as if they’re a source of endless fascination gives you an excuse not to look your brother in the eye.

“But would you care to explain what convinced you to invite him to dinner?”

“Hobi… I just…” Your back hits the mattress as you flop back entirely, groaning up at the ceiling. No choice but to spit the truth out now. “His eyes, they just do things to me.”

Craning your neck to look at him, regret hits you when you catch sight of his frown. You drop your head back down. The ceiling's a much better option to look at.

“You have a soft spot for him.” It’s less a question and more a statement. A statement that you assent to with a strangled noise.

“Look. I get it. It’s just, I worry for you. The state you were in when you came back that night…” This time, he lets out a sigh of his own. The bed shifts, accommodating his weight where he takes a seat next to you. "You were a wreck, ____.” He shakes his head, his brow furrowed. “I don't want to have to relive those days.”

He’s not speaking out of turn. Guilt gnaws at you and you turn your head to face the wall. Bringing Namjoon back into your life implicated Hoseok too. Your brokenness had not been yours to bear alone. On the nights when you felt like you were falling apart, it was your brother who’d held you as you sobbed damp spot after damp spot into his t-shirts.

“Do you think it's too soon?” Your voice sounds small even in your ears. “Even though it's been years?”

“I can’t answer that for you, ____.”

You remain quiet, still staring at the blank wall.

“Well." He slaps his hands on his thighs and hauls himself off the bed, breaking the silence. "I owe him a long overdue meet-up anyway. He's been bugging me to have a meal together with him for the longest time now- which is next to impossible, y’know, with the way the studio just keeps getting busier and busier.”

A hand enters your field of vision, outstretched and waiting. "Dinner?"

You grasp it and he pulls you up. His grip is a firm anchor, both physically and emotionally.

"Dinner," you echo. "I can do this."

You can’t do this.

Whatever idealism you had possessed an hour ago within the safe confines of your apartment was gone now, mellowed out and boiled down to unforgiving reality.

At least you have Hoseok.

Despite your earlier hesitation to tell your brother about the events that had transpired through the day, you're now relieved you did and infinitely thankful for his presence. If any iciness remains from whatever lingering unsaid tension that exists between you and Namjoon, it quickly melts away under the warmth that is Hoseok's affability.

It was awkward at first, no doubt. As you slid into the booth to sit across Namjoon, it definitely didn’t escape your attention how he was unable to keep eye contact with you, his shifty eyes stoking the nervousness that simmered in the pit of your stomach.

The conversation had been polite but stiff, filled with small talk about each other’s jobs. As if you didn’t already know all about how he’d made it as a published author from all the times you eavesdropped on Hobi’s phone calls. He was in the middle of narrating his book’s main plot when your mind’s eye jumped, involuntarily, to the books guiltily buried away in the corner of your closet underneath a bunch of t-shirts. It was an impulse buy, you lie to yourself.

Yes, you’ve read his books. Multiple times. Pored over every word and analyzed every character in search of snippets of yourself. Hoping to know whether he’s forgotten you and moved on from you or whether he’s still affected by the breakup in the same way you don’t dare to admit that you are.

But that’s just in your times of weakness. Everyone has those, you reason, and you’re allowed to too.

Make no mistake- you did get over Namjoon. The box of letters sits in your desk drawer as the fruits of that. There’s a reason why you can’t bring yourself to dump those letters out after all these years. They’re unfiltered and ugly and raw, but they’re an archive of the journey you went through. You’re over it.

Or you were over it. Being in this city and seeing him triggers something in you and seems to throw you back a couple of steps somehow.

Maneuvering your way through the exchange, carefully feigning ignorance about the plot of his novels, you were walking a tightrope. But thankfully, before you could get caught in your self-spun web of lies, the conversation takes a sharp left.

In a sudden outburst of, “Why are we speaking as if we’re at some corporate networking event?!” accompanied by a smack on the table, Hoseok shattered the cordial but fake and, frankly, uncomfortable atmosphere that had settled over the booth. The three of you broke into genuine laughter for the first time in the evening. And finally, the dinner conversation took a more casual and informal turn.

In spite of your wariness, the pull that Hoseok’s words exerted was irresistible and you found yourself gradually loosening up. It began with unbidden smiles that progressed to quiet giggles- not unlike the one that followed Hoseok’s earlier outburst- that quickly gave way to carefree and unfiltered laughter.

And now?

"Remember when you broke the swingset at our house?" Hoseok jabs his fork at Namjoon who sits across from him at the table.

"That was not on me,” he quips. “That swingset was rickety before I sat on it."

Your throat constricts around your food slightly painfully with the way you gulp down your food to interject, "No way, Joon. We only had that swingset for two weeks before you broke it."

Hoseok nods in corroboration, his features colored in a grave seriousness. “She’s right. I remember my joy on that swingset being extremely short-lived.”

"Can't believe you care more about that swingset than me." Namjoon pouts. "My butt was bruised for at least a week from that accident."

But Hoseok dismisses this with a wave of his hand. "Bruises heal. Swingsets don't."

You smile around the rim of your glass, taking a swig. Cheeks sore with how much you’ve been smiling, you think, you really can’t do this.

You've missed this. You’ve missed the days filled with this innocent and untroubled feeling of happiness. When it was just this pair of best friends and you were the little sister that just tagged along at first, but got pulled in as a real member of the trio. You were the little sister that Hobi adored, and the little sister that Joon had always wished he'd had, and you looked up to both of them so much.

The playful teasing between mouthfuls of food and the easy laughter shared as all three of you let loose over a couple drinks has you warming up in a way that's not just from the alcohol.

You’ve missed this. But you can’t.

You glance upwards and the softness in Namjoon’s eyes all crinkled up by his beaming smile has you realizing just how much you’ve missed him. But you can’t, you can’t, you ca-

Next to you, Hoseok’s movements interrupt your internal self-admonishment. He sets his utensils down with a clang on his empty plate. "Hey, I’ll go pick up the bill."

"Let me." Namjoon fumbles for his wallet as he gets on his feet. But Hoseok puts a hand on his shoulder to sit him back down.

"Nah man, you paid the last time and I've been meaning to give ____ a treat too. This one's on me."

Hoseok disappears off to settle the bill, leaving just you and Namjoon. In stark contrast to his earlier inability to maintain eye contact, he’s now staring intently at you. The intensity of his gaze has your cheeks growing warm.

It’s your turn to struggle with eye contact. Unsure what to do with your hands or where to look, you're just about to succumb to the urge to start fidgeting when Namjoon sighs, inciting a stolen glance at him. His gaze is on his hands now where they sit on the table, a gentle smile gracing his features.

"I've missed this,” he says softly.

You can’t, you can’t, you can’t.

"Me too," you admit. You’re weak.

His gaze darts back upwards to look you in the eyes, and your heart rate picks up.

“I've missed you.”

It’s shy. It’s barely audible. But you catch it. It startles your heart into a racing pulse, pounding in your ribcage.

"Namjoon.” You don’t miss the way his face falls slightly at how you revert to his full name. “You can't-"

He leans forward as he shakes his head. "I'm not... I..." He cuts himself off with a huff of frustration. His long fingers tap rapidly on the table the way they always do when he’s collecting his thoughts.

"I'm really sorry for what happened, ____.” His eyes bore into yours with a pleading sincerity that has your hands fidgeting under the table and out of sight. “I'm really sorry that things ended the way they did. And I know I don't deserve to be asking this, ____. But I've really missed... all this." He gestures to the booth, to your trio. "And I guess what I'm asking is, will you forgive me? And... will it be okay to see you again? Just as friends. Nothing more."

You can’t. You can’t. You can’t.

You fold your hands in your lap, still hidden away from sight so he can’t see the nervous energy they exude as you deliberate your next words carefully.

"Joon, you really hurt me the last time. Really deeply.” The temptation to avert your gaze is immense, but you power through. But that leaves you to witness the flicker of guilt in his eyes. “And as nice as tonight was, I'm just not sure if I'm ready to have you back in my life completely yet."

“Ok, I understand. That's fair. I have no rights to make any demands on you when things ended the way they did.”

His eyes are downcast and he trails off into silence.

But just as you’re about to heave a sigh of relief, thinking he’s dropped it, he starts again, the hesitation clear in his shaky voice, "Can I give you my number? So you can think it over and text me if you ever want to be friends again. Like what you said, tonight was really nice."

His hand hovers over where your phone sits on the table, tentative without your go-ahead.

“Or you can just decide to throw it out and delete me from your life forever,” he begins rambling nervously. “I'll respect that too. I just can't leave things the way they are without doing anything I can to attempt to make reconciliation happen.”

You can’t. You can’t. You can’t.

That’s when you make the fatal mistake of looking him in the eye. The way he's looking at you…

You can’t. Or can you?

Like what you told Hoseok, you’re close to powerless when Namjoon looks at you like that.

Relenting, you flip his hand around and place your phone into his waiting palm.

"Okay. Fine. I'll think about it."

"Thank you,” he says breathily. His dimpled smile and eyes aglow send your heartbeat stuttering.

As Namjoon's keying his phone number into your phone, Hoseok returns. The action doesn't go unnoticed by him, and the way he eyes your phone in Namjoon's hands has you squirming in your seat slightly. But Namjoon, gleeful with the hope of possible reconciliation, is none the wiser.

You, meanwhile, know that you’re in for a lot of explaining.

“It’s just a number, Hoseok,” you say the moment the subway pulls out of the station and away from Namjoon’s waving figure. It’s been sitting heavy on your tongue ever since the restaurant, and you take the first chance you get to spit it out. Never has the walk from the diner to the station felt so long.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Yeah,” you fold your arms, stumbling slightly on the rickety carriage, but you maintain your indignant expression, “but your look said everything.”

You exhale heavily as you grip back onto the grab pole. You continue, softer this time, “He’s just asking to be friends.”

Hoseok purses his lips and the silence sits for a moment.

“What are you thinking?” he eventually asks.

“I don’t know.” You shrug. “It’s just… a lot. What happened between us was a lot.”

You clear your throat and continue, “But the years of friendship in our little trio were a lot too. And tonight was a huge reminder of how good things used to be… of how good things could be.”

“So, what are you gonna do?”

“I don’t know.” You repeat, looking back at Hoseok now. “What should I do?”

“I can’t decide that for you.”

What a classic Hoseok response. Why did you even ask?

“He’s genuinely sorry,” you murmur, speaking more to yourself than to your brother.

“He is,” Hoseok affirms, his eyes softening now as he nods in agreement.

“And it’ll be just friends, nothing more.” Again, you’re not entirely sure of whether your words are meant to be consoling your brother or yourself.

“Do you want that? Being friends with him again and having him in your life again?”

Do you?

You try to consider it rationally, you really do.

But the emotions overtake you. Perhaps it’s from tonight’s dinner, a sampling of what it’d be like to have him as a friend again. Perhaps it’s the recognition of how wasteful it truly is to dump decades of friendship out the window.

Or perhaps it’s the revelation that you could never be angry with Namjoon, as much as you want to be. And you really want to be. He deserves it. After the way he let your relationship end without putting up a fight, after he left you shattered and the way you had to piece yourself back together shard by shard in the aftermath, he deserves your wrath.

But you can’t do it.

Especially not now when his repentance is so sincere. Not when he’s earnestly trying to make things right.

So do you want him back in your life? It’s irrational, it’s dumb, it’s risky, but you honestly could never help yourself when it comes to Namjoon.

“Yes,” you decide. “I’ve missed him, Hobi. I know it’s dumb to miss him after all these years and after what he did, but I still do.”

Hoseok slings an arm around you and pulls you into his chest. “Yeah, it’s pretty dumb,” he says, and you snort as you swat at his chest. “But if that’s how you feel, then that’s how you feel.”

“It’s been so strange,” comes your quiet admission. “He’s just always been there, y’know? And not having him around feels like having a limb missing.”

“Mmhm.” It’s barely a sound, but you know it’s Hoseok’s way of saying he understands, and it fills you with a deep sense of assurance and validation.

The train pulls to a stop, and you realize with a jolt that it’s your station. Reluctantly, you pull away from the hug and tug Hoseok out the doors. “C’mon.”

The apartment is just a few streets down from the station and, with your hands stuffed into the pockets of your jacket, your fists rubbing against the rough denim, you walk along silently. The sound of Hoseok’s footsteps beside you fades into rhythmical ambient noise the deeper you fall into thought.

It’s when you’re unlocking the door to your apartment, keys jangling, that Hoseok asks the very same question that you’ve been mulling over on the walk back.

“Can you forgive him?”

It’s surprising. Even to you. You always imagined it’d play out in either one of two ways- cutting words or punishing silence. But now that the moment has really arrived, you realize just how willing you are to extend forgiveness to him.

“I think I have to,” you begin slowly. “Not for him, but for me, y’know?” You nod, your certainty growing as you verbalize your thoughts. “Yeah. I have to do this. It’s getting tiring carrying all this resentment and bitterness around.”

The lock clicks open and you move to enter the apartment.

“Hey,” Hoseok says, placing a hand on your shoulder gently that has you pausing. “Whatever decision you make, just know that I support you.”

You wrap your brother in a quick side-hug. “Thanks, Hobi. That means a lot to me.”

Rolling over to switch your alarm off, you nestle back under the covers to catch a few more winks.

That’s when it all comes rushing back to you, and your initial plan to snooze is screwed. Did all that really happen? Did you really sit down to have dinner with Namjoon?

And did you really not reject his attempt at a peace offering? Young ____ would be so disappointed.

It feels a little unbelievable. I mean, sure, you’ve run into him more than a couple of times now. But never would you have imagined you would have him truly in your life again.

That is- if you would let him in. You haven’t replied to him, wanting to sleep on your decision for extra clarity.

Clarity, your ass. Through the thick fog of heavy sleep, it all feels like it could be nothing more than a fever dream.

But you can hear Hoseok’s snoring coming from the next room. And the memories of last night- the yellow lighting of the diner, the overly salty fries you kept picking at regardless, the jab of Hobi’s elbow into your side as he teased you, the way your sides ached from laughing so hard, the way those obsidian eyes pulled you in as they set on you from across the table- they’re too vivid to be made up.

And the one thing that will conclusively prove it- you prop yourself up to scroll through your contacts list. There. Sitting in your contacts is his name. The name you’d deleted off your phone all those years ago in a fit of anger, but now restored to its rightful place.

[8.03am] ____: hey joon, it’s ____.

You chew on your lip as you type and delete and re-type and repeat.

[8.07am] ____: do you have any plans for today? wanna do something?

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sqwintersolstice · 2 years ago

Text

How to Post your Work(s) to the AO3 Collection

Hello, Swen!

The final steps are upon us. It’s time to put your works in the Swan Queen Winter Solstice collection, so they can eventually be revealed to the fandom! 💜

The deadline for posting your work(s) is midnight EST on February 6th unless you’ve asked for an extension. (Click HERE to check what time that is in your area.)

Without further ado, let’s do this!

1. HOW TO GET TO THE COLLECTION

To start, head directly to the collection by clicking HERE, and then hit the Post to Collection button to submit a work to it.

If you have participated before in similar events, then feel free to skip the rest of this tutorial and create your work in the collection (the only exception might be if you’re posting a video, because we have a special formatting we’ve provided for displaying them on mobile. You might want to check it out in section 6.3).

2. TAGS SECTION

The first section that will show up when you create a new work is the Tags section. Here you will add information about your creation: Rating, Archive Warnings, Fandom, Category, Relationships, Characters, and Additional Tags. It will look similar to the image below:

The Rating and the Archive Warnings are very important steps, so please make sure they are accurate to your work. Make use of any of the options for Archive Warnings that might apply, keeping in mind that ‘No Archive Warnings Apply’ should only be used in case none of the others such as ‘Graphic Depictions of Violence’ or ‘Underage’ appear in your work. Otherwise, if you’re trying to avoid spoiling your plot for any reason, ‘Choose Not To Use Archive Warnings’ is a good option.

In Fandoms, you could add another besides Once Upon a Time (TV) if your work has a crossover; in Relationships, and Characters, feel free to add any others that might appear in your work besides Emma and Regina in case they’re crucial to the plot.

Additional Tags can include anything you feel might also apply to your creation, and that also might help people search for it.

If there are any specific warnings you’d like to clarify, add them in. Is your plot set in an alternate universe? Or maybe it includes bed sharing? Are they being idiots in love? (Always.) Maybe they’re trapped together? Is there lots of fluff? Mutual pining? Angst? (Well, now that would be a plot alright.)

Just don’t add too many to avoid overwhelming anyone, of course.

3. PREFACE SECTION

Now, to introduce your work to people. How will it be named and remembered? Here’s more or less how the preface section will look like once you’ve filled it in:

In your Work Title, you name your creation. In Add co-creators, you add the name of your collab creator in case you have one. You put your Summary in its text box, explaining some of your plot — for writers and artists both, we recommend not leaving your summary blank! It gives a bit more insight into your work.

Specifically for artists — in the title, adding [Art], [Fanvid] or [Fanart] to the end of your title helps make it recognizable in the collection. (An additional tag with the same thing wouldn’t hurt, too!)

After that, we have Notes. You can have them at the beginning by checking the little box, or at the end (or both!). The first one is a good place for you to thank betas, cheerleaders, explain a bit about your idea, inspirations; while the second one can be another place to thank everyone, talk a bit more about your process, and remind everyone that comments are very very welcome.

If your work has multiple chapters, we recommend not marking ‘at the end’ for now unless you’d like for the same note to appear at the end of every chapter!

4. ASSOCIATIONS

Firstly, please check that SQWinterSolstice2 is still there in Post to Collections / Challenges — if you clicked directly on the link beforehand, it should be. If you don’t see it, type it in and you should be good to go.

It’s possible to Gift this work to someone, too. You could gift it to your beta, cheerleader, or just a friend. Just type in their AO3 name.

This work is a remix, a translation, a podfic, or was inspired by another work — you can mark this if you worked with another creator. Just get the work’s URL from your collab partner, paste it in its box and AO3 will do the rest.

This work is part of a series — in case you’re writing multiple works set in the same universe, for example, you can mark this and create a series. Otherwise, feel free to skip it altogether.

This work has multiple chapters — as seen in the image above, when you mark the option you can type in the amount of chapters your work has, as well as name your first chapter. If your work does not have multiple chapters, just leave it unmarked.

Set a different publication date — do NOT mark it just yet! Once you receive your email with your reveal date, we will provide further instructions about this and when to change the date. If you set it to something different now, your work won’t show up at the beginning of the SQ tag once it’s revealed, so leave it alone for now.

Choose a language — select English and that’s it!

Select work skin — if you have worked with HTML/CSS before and have customized something for your work, select your work skin here. If not, leave it blank, or refer to 6.3 in case you’re posting a video.

5. PRIVACY SECTION

This section is completely up to you. While ‘Only show your work to registered users’ and ‘Only registered users can comment’ might limit mean comments, they can also make it harder for people to comment in general. ‘Enable comment moderation’ means you’ll have to approve comments before they show up on the page, so it’s a more viable option. Consider what’s best for you.

6. WORK TEXT SECTION

Here is where you place your work.

6.1 — Fics;

6.2 — Fanarts, fanmixes etc;

6.3 — Fanvids.

6.1. FICS

While you can use the HTML editor, we recommend switching to the Rich Text editor so you can directly paste your story from Word or Google Docs. Otherwise, your fic might lack spaces between each paragraph, making it harder to read. Most of the basic formatting will be retained from the original, such as bold, italics, paragraph division, etc so please make sure to change to Rich Text before pasting your work.

If everything worked so far and feels correct, please refer to item 7.

6.2. FANARTS, FANMIXES ETC

Also using the Rich Text editor like shown above, to add an image click on Insert/edit image:

This is what will pop up once you do:

In Source, AO3 asks you to paste in the url of your work. There are a few options to get one. The easiest one is to post it privately on your Tumblr, grabbing the url from it. Please remember that anywhere you post it to get this url has to be private, since it hasn’t been revealed yet. Your URL has to end in .png, .jpg, .gif to be valid. AO3 also provides a few alternatives, if you want to check it out.

Next, we have Image description. Here you’re able to describe your work for people who use screen readers.

For Width and Height, leave it blank for now and see how your image looks posted before altering it. If it looks fine for all screens, then you don’t have to change it.

You might have to write something in the text box in order to have the image show up.

If everything worked so far and feels correct, please refer to item 7.

6.3. FANVIDS

Remember: your video has to be set to private until its reveal date! The following tutorial works for Youtube videos. It might not work if you’re posting it elsewhere.

If you head to your video, you’re able to click on Share and then Embed and copy the code for your video. While pasting that code on the HTML editor on AO3 works fine, it leaves it badly displayed on mobile. For this reason, we found a code from pigalle that embeds a youtube video and scales it correctly for any smaller screens.

It may be a few extra steps, but it does look a lot nicer for mobile viewers.

The first step is to create your own work skin so you’re able to apply it to your work. (You might have to save your work first as a draft in order to have your work skin showing up as an option to choose from. It’s necessary to refresh the page so the work skin shows up.)

So, to create your work skin, head over to your AO3 profile on the top right, then click on My Dashboard.

There, click on Skins, then on the button My Work Skins, and, last but not least, Create Work Skin:

Next, in the About section you can fill it in with any Title you’d like, as long as the Type is set to Work Skin. The description, preview and apply to make public options are not necessary, so you may skip them.

Now, for the CSS section. The CSS is what sets the properties and values and decides how the HTML will look like. What matters is just pasting the code below in the box. You don’t have to alter it, just copy and paste it:

#workskin .mobilevideo {

position: absolute;

top: 0;

left: 0;

width: 100%;

height: 100%;

}

#workskin .videoscale {

position: relative;

height: 0;

padding-top: 56.25%;

}

#workskin .videocontainer {

max-width: 100%;

width: 560px;

}

After that, just click on Submit, and that will mean your Work Skin has been created!

Back to your work, in the Associations section (refer to item 4 if necessary), Select Work Skin should have your recently created one as an option. Remember that you might have to refresh the page for it to show up, so make sure to save it as a draft first so you don’t lose any changes you made.

And then, in the HTML editor, paste the code below:

<p>

</p></div>

</center>

Then, when you go to your video on Youtube, grab the ID portion of it like the one highlighted below:

Simply copy and paste that into the code where it says VIDEO ID HERE, like shown in the picture below as an example:

If everything worked so far and feels correct, please refer to item 7.

7. POST SECTION

And that’s it! Please double-check if everything is correct, though you’ll be able to edit it later. If you’d like to take a look at it first, click on Preview. If you’re confident about it, just click on Post.

If you’ve clicked on Preview, it will show how your work looks like on AO3. If something’s amiss, go back to the previous page by clicking on Edit. If it’s good to go, just click on Post — it’s the only way to have it be submitted to the collection, otherwise we won’t receive it.

7.1 HOW TO ADD CHAPTERS AND EDIT YOUR WORK

If your work is one with multiple chapters, or you’d like to make it one, on top of the posted work you’ll find several buttons. Clicking on Add Chapter or Edit will provide you with the option to create a new chapter for your work.

In case it only has one chapter and you’d like to edit it, just click on Edit and you should find the same page from earlier. Simply scroll down until you get to the Work Text section, and then click on the Rich Text button to edit your work.

8. HOW TO FIND YOUR WORK LATER

Once your work is posted as a Mystery Work, you can bookmark the page on your browser — the url will not change after it’s been revealed. It’s the easiest way to not lose track of where your work is and edit it later.

But don’t worry! If you lost your work’s url, there are a few ways to get the url and save it.

On your dashboard on AO3, there is an option on the sidebar that says WORKS. From there, you can either click EDIT WORKS (which displays all your works) or WORKS IN COLLECTIONS (which displays all your works currently in a collection). Either option will show you your unrevealed work.

-----------

There we go! Now you’re all set. Thank you so much for submitting your work!

We will be emailing you your reveal date(s) soon, so don’t worry if you hear someone has already gotten it and yours hasn’t arrived yet. In the email you’ll have more details on what to do for your reveal day, so please make sure to check your email so you don’t miss it!

If you have any questions, please contact us at [email protected] preferably, on Twitter @SQWintrSolstice, or find a mod on Discord!

Sincerely,

Swan Queen Winter Solstice Mods

#swanqueen #swan queen #swan queen fanart #emma swan #regina mills #sq winter solstice #sqws #ouat #swen #swan queen fan event #posting tutorial #ao3 collection

10 notes · View notes

simpingforthisonedeer · 4 years ago

Link

Chapter 8: Tempestuous I

SFW version here

Summary: Aika watches Julius become King; Julius goes to make his annual visit to the Swallowtail and shenanigans happen.

Notes: This chapter was actually supposed to be a lil over 10k words um 😳😳😳 but I cut it 60/40 so I'll post the next chapter next week for sure bc it's already finished. I made a lot of changes like taking away the assasination attempt that was supposed to happen this chapter. Also, there's one offhanded line that is NSFW but that's all for the chapter.

One of you have already read all 10k but don’t say anything okay? ;)))

@talpup here you go hehehe

@kray-dragon you said you wanted to read 👉👈

Aika felt light despite the exhaustion weighing her down as the excited murmur of the crowd surrounded her. It has been two days since the battle and Diamond Kingdom’s surrender, but she would give them a few months before starting a ruckus again. Nevertheless, the peace and relief that it brought to Clover Kingdom had the gathered crowd in high spirits, especially since they knew that Julius was the one who delivered the final blow.

The Grey Deers were especially rowdy near the front, no doubt ecstatic that their former Captain was now Wizard King. The ceremony was already done in private and this occasion was just to introduce the new Wizard King to the public so he may be welcomed.

She stood atop Clover castle’s outer walls with her associates as she spectated, while also keeping an eye out for any trouble.

Music played loudly to her right and the crowd grew excited as the seven new captains walked on stage.

Fuegoleon Vermillion for the Crimson Lions, Nozel Silva for the Silver Eagles, Jack the Ripper for the Green Mantises, Dorothy Unsworth for the Coral Peacocks, Charlotte Roselei for the Blue Roses, Gueldre Poizot for the Purple Orcas, and Jien Du for the Grey Deers.

It was truly a remarkable sight from a historical point of view because all the captains were replaced and all of them were around the same age, meaning that this trend would continue for a few more generations.

The crowd grew quiet in anticipation after all the Captains settled into their respective places on the stage.

“Ladies and Gentlemen!” A disembodied voice exclaimed. “Put your hands together for our new Wizard King,” A handsome man wearing a voluminous cloak of deep red, shouldering a white, furred cape, adorned with medals and a cross emerged from the depths of Clover Castle.

“Julius Novachrono!”

The crowd exploded with approval as their cheers, screams and applause filled the air. The sudden noise startled Aika but thankfully, she barely had any mana after the battle so none accidentally escaped. She couldn’t see him clearly from where she was standing but she certainly noticed how he squared his shoulders as he cast his gaze across the sea of people.

Their voices seemed to soar high into the heavens and she couldn’t help but smile at the scene. Jayce was hollering his heart out next to her, screaming how he was Julius’ number one fan. He had been standing close to the former Captain when he eviscerated the enemy two days ago and had been starstruck ever since.

Ellie clapped politely as Evan let out a whistle or two. Aika would have clapped as well but she was leaning heavily against the edge of the wall, barely even able to stand up straight. She had already suffered the indignity of asking Jayce and Evan to help her walk as if she was some frail, old grandma. She would not also cause a commotion by trying to stand and then fall.

“And finally, please welcome your honorable king,” the announcer stumbled on the last few words. “Augustus Kira Clover the 13th!”

The applause was much more muted and they barely let out a cheer or two. Augustus looked outraged at the gathered crowd and opened his mouth to make his displeasure known but Julius quickly cleared his voice before their “honorable” king could and began his first speech as the Wizard King. Aika listened keenly, secretly reveling in his familiar voice. He spoke at length about hope, faith and love and ended his speech with a hopeful message that had everyone grinning and cheering once again.

Aika leaned back far enough so she could clap this time because she was blown away by the absolute natural way he commanded the stage and the crowd. He was made for this.

Then, the Grey Deers who were standing guard at the front split the sea of people so Julius could go step down to greet and interact with the citizens themselves. The crowd allowed the Magic Knights to create a human barrier for one moment as the new Wizard King planted his feet on level ground, before chaos ensued. People pried the barrier apart and the knights were powerless to use magic in such a cramped space.

Aika tensed for a moment, thinking there was going to be an attack but let out a surprised laugh when she realized the situation. Women threw themselves at Julius, nearly tearing his robes apart and Aika nearly fell backwards with laughter at the sight of him trying to dodge their kisses.

Evan, Jayce and Ellie shared a nervous look as they got ready to catch her if she was actually going to fall. They have never seen their boss so exuberant when she was sober in all the 6 years that they have known her. Aika caught their looks and quickly pursed her lips, an uncontrollable grin still spread across her face.

“Cheer up, you three. I can actually laugh now,” she said teasingly.

“We’ve noticed,” Evan murmured, sending a careful look at Jayce, silently begging him to think before he spoke.

“Yeah, you seem to be in a better mood. Are you and the Wizard King really fu—” Ellie smacked him upside the head before he could finish.

Too late.

Aika’s cheery disposition quickly dissipated.

“No, Jayce,” she said, her voice cold. “As far as everyone is concerned, nothing ever happened at all, understood?”

The crowd standing around on the wall with them started moving for the exits to make their way to the festivities in the plaza. Ellie looped her arm with Aika’s and Evan took her other arm so they could help her walk. She threw a disappointed look at Jayce and sighed. He flushed in embarrassment and rubbed his head apologetically.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Where to, Miss?” Ellie asked as her grimoire fluttered open, throwing a deadpan look at Jayce.

“To my home in Hage, please,” she sighed again as she looked back at Julius among the crowd as he tried to fend them off. Aika turned away before the first pangs of jealousy and longing could hit her. It was just a silly crush.

A portal opened in front of them at her behest and they quickly stepped through it before the crowd could jostle them around. With Ellie’s spatial magic, she assisted Aika with errands, delivered messages, helped her travel around the world and sometimes even provided support in battle.

Aika sighed contentedly at the transition from the loud crowd to the peaceful noises of nature in the countryside. She felt old at this thought.

They quickly ushered her into the house and helped her sit in her armchair. She stretched out in her seat and groaned at the sore feeling sufusing through her limbs. Her backpack, which she nearly never took off, poked her uncomfortably in the back but she put up with it anyway.

Aika opened her eyes slightly and her three protégés were looking at her with various levels of concern. She let out an amused huff as she waved them off.

“This is normal. You three should be used to this by now.”

“I mean, you warned us,” Ellie began as she lightly scratched her white, coily hair. “But we have never seen you perform a spell that big so we didn’t know what to expect.”

“I suppose that is true,” Aika hummed before wincing as pain unexpectedly coursed through her body. Jayce urgently strode into the kitchen at this.

“I was initially doubtful if you could handle my spell, Miss,” Evan admitted as he looked down at his hands. “I was completely ready to let the spell loose even at the expense of our allies if it meant we could weaken or even defeat the enemy.”

“Evan.” He looked up at Aika’s unexpectedly strong tone. “I would never put you in a position where you have to make such difficult decisions.” She smiled reassuringly. “I have only asked you to perform the spell because I knew I could handle it. If there is anything that you can depend on in me, it’s that I know my limits. Please have more faith in me.”

He blinked slowly at her heartfelt words, before he smiled boyishly.

“But you’re still pretty weak from it,” he retorted uncharacteristically.

“It was worth it, was it not?” she quipped back, happy that her little speech didn’t sour his mood too much.

Jayce came back from the kitchen with a slightly wet towel and handed it to Aika with a concerned look.

“Here.”

“Jayce…” She shook her head at this gesture with a small smile. It was his way of apologizing for his words earlier. “It is alright. You don’t have to worry too much.”

“Heh,” he carded his fingers through his hair. “If you say so, boss.”

“I have a new assignment for you guys,” Aika quickly began when she noticed Ellie’s mischievous smile. If she started teasing him, an argument was sure to erupt.

They turned to her attentively.

“I have noticed residues of forbidden magic in the abandoned cottage near the church here. It isn’t anything urgent and I’d like for you three to enjoy the festivities in the capital, so take the day off and in a day or two, I’d like for you three to report on your findings, alright?” Aika would have joined them but she was too weak to move in her state so she’ll take a well-deserved break for today. She eyed the gift bag by the entryway. She put together a few gifts for Julius, hoping to give to him today as a sort of welcome but she lacked the energy to move so it would have to be at another date.

She needed to get a lot of work done. She had to clean out both this house and the Wizard King’s study, where she spent most of the time working, so Julius could use it instead. Master Raymond wasn’t the reading type so he leased it to her for free and she enjoyed that space and she had a feeling Julius would too. Speaking of the headquarters,

“Don’t forget that you also have your day jobs at the headquarters, okay?”

“Yes, ma’am!” They saluted her eagerly.

Aika nodded proudly. She was slowly introducing them to working in environments immersed in forbidden magic so they could take on bigger field assignments in the future. They were still young, only in their early twenties, so she should be careful about how such magic would affect their mental development, seeing as it completely fucked up hers. She would like to think she was fine, but she really wasn’t.

They bid her goodbye with their bright smiles, exuding youth in every way Aika wished she could feel at the moment. Though she stopped aging properly at twenty-five, maybe twenty-six years, weg magic was exhausting and she felt like she had been living longer than she should. It was probably because she hadn’t properly slept in over a decade and a half.

Aika laid the cold towel across her nape with a sigh, though the sensory overload from the pain made everything, including the texture of the towel, seem unpleasant. She shrugged one strap off of her shoulder so she could push the backpack aside and the rune on her forehead began to itch lightly—

Wait a minute, she sat up straight.

There was a Swallowtail filled with her magic in the woods behind the church. Wait. There were also mini-Swallowtails in her backpack right now. She could recover her magic faster this way. In her excitement, Aika nearly forgot she couldn’t use the Swallowtails inside her loft because they power various magic stones for heat, light, water, ventilation, preservation and some miscellaneous experiments.

Aika leaned back and groaned.

This meant that she must get to the big Swallowtail herself. She could ask Ellie for help but none of them except maybe Julius and herself know about the Swallowtail and they most certainly don’t know about her Time Magic. Most people thought Aika was a weak water mage who was physically strong, used forbidden magic to make up for her shortcomings, and could use a sword well.

She needed to keep her real attribute a secret because states with more sinister plans have hunted her in the past. So much so that they even threatened to destroy their own allies. That part of history was rewritten by Arthur. He stopped a war and changed everyone’s memories and in exchange, he got Holly.

She buried the memories once more as she locked her joints and stood up carefully. No point in dwelling on things she couldn’t change.

There was an old broom in the closet that she could use to get to the Swallowtail. She walked carefully, leaning on the furniture along the way. Aika stifled any groans and put her weight on the wall next to the closet door and opened it. She paused.

There were bloodstains everywhere.

It must have been from when Arthur was stabbed and bound in here.

Aika sighed as she added another task on her to-do list and picked up the broom next to creaky hinges of the closet door. She gently eased herself onto it and smiled in relief. It would be easier to move this way.

She quickly shot out of the house, relishing in the speed in contrast to her turtle-like pace the whole day and took the straightest path to the Swallowtail.

Julius extricated himself from the last of the women as Marx made a way for him to escape the crowd. He was hoping to maybe talk to them, maybe leave a more personal impression on them, but today was not his day apparently.

“Sir, are you alright?” Marx asked as they quickly strode into a side entrance to the castle. Julius chuckled lightly as he rubbed his lipstick-smeared cheek.

“Yes, of course, Marx. Just a little...violated.”

Marx smiled as he let out a huff. “I will be very honest with you, sir. I didn’t think that was going to work.”

“Well, perhaps I should organize a town hall so it would be more regulated.”

“I will see if your schedule allows it in the near future, sir.”

He smiled in gratitude as Marx shook his head.

“Alright, well, I got a message that the preparations for the banquet are nearly done and it would begin in an hour—”

“Marx, would you take care of that?” Julius interjected suddenly.

“Sir?”

“An hour is perfect. I have an important errand I must attend to and it won’t take me long…” He finished quietly, knowing he wouldn’t believe him.

“An errand today?” Marx asked, his voice raising up a notch. “An errand on one of the most important days of your life?”

His annual trip to the Swallowtail so he could deposit his magic just happened to fall on the day he became Wizard King. And a few minutes alone might also do him some good. The weight of what he had just accepted still hasn’t properly set in.

“Um, yes?”

“Julius!”

“It will only take me a few minutes!” He put his hands together pleadingly. “Please?”

Marx let out a heavy sigh as rubbed his temples. He just hoped he wouldn’t be as irresponsible as to miss the banquet entirely.

“Alright, fine. But you better not be looking at magic when I come looking for you!”

Julius grinned in reply.

“Of course! Thank you, Marx!”

In a blink, he quickly phased out and landed in the forest clearing where the ancient magic item was. The sudden change in environment and the heavy weight of the robes grounded him to his current situation.

It was utterly surreal. He was Wizard King.

Julius let out a hysterical laugh as he rested his head against the Swallowtail.

Adrenaline rushed through his veins as his fingers clawed at the cool, metal surface. He could finally help Clover Kingdom for the better. There were so many things he could do, so many things he could change.

Starting off with the Magic Knights. Incentivize and reward good behavior, send more knights to patrols realms where they aren’t accustomed to so they learn to like and protect people below their class, even involve himself in policy as Aika had suggested and think about education. The next generation are the future after all.

His mind was racing with ideas but he took calming breaths before he completely lost his cool. He still had a banquet to attend and nobles to pander to.

He looked intently at the giant, six-pointed star on the Swallowtail as he gathered his thoughts. He should finish his business soon. The sooner he put his mana in, the sooner he could recover it. He slowly started pouring his mana into the ball. He also needed to make sure he had enough left to teleport back.

Julius turned as he felt a presence moving towards him at high speeds. He stopped as he squinted at the figure on a broom, their form silhouetted by the Sun behind them.

His vision grew blurry momentarily as he prepared to transform. It would be a strange and suspicious sight to see the new Wizard King in the Boonies. But before he could do anything, the mysterious person landed in the clearing at an unnatural speed.

Julius’ eyes widened when he realized who it was.

“Aika?”

When Aika landed near the Swallowtail, she couldn’t believe who it was. She scrambled off of her broom and used it like a staff to lean on.

She could clearly see all of Julius now, no longer a bright, robed figure in the distance.

And my god was he a sight to behold.

His medals shone in the sun and his red, velvet cloak made him look like the king he was. When her eyes met his, they glinted gold for a moment and she had to remind herself to breathe.

Though, the effect was slightly dampened by the fact that he was covered in lipstick marks.

“Aika?” he asked disbelievingly. She brought three fingers to her chest in a salute as she tamped down any tremors, whether it was because of her fatigue or emotions.

“Your Highness,” she intoned as she bowed her head. That’s it. He was only the Wizard King to her. Nothing more, nothing less.

“Oh,” he exhaled in amusement. “There’s no need for that. We are way past that. Please,” he said reassuringly. “Call me ‘Julius.’”

Aika’s face gingerly lit up into a grin. The expression felt strange on her face but she couldn’t help it. She was simply glad that they weren’t going to be awkward. She clutched her broom tighter before she could fall as she spoke.

“Well then, congratulations on becoming Wizard King, Julius,” she walked sluggishly towards the Swallowtail, still facing him. “How do you feel?”

His jaw fell slightly, momentarily surprised by her nonchalance. Most people’s attitude changed in the few moments he walked in his Wizard King attire. Even Marx, whom he was most familiar with, grew more serious. But he supposed he shouldn’t be surprised. He seemed to be “just Julius” to her no matter how he was. His chest tightened at the thought. It was a strange sensation.

Julius rubbed the back of his head with a sheepish grin as he relaxed. There was no need for him to be officious with her after all had been said and done.

“Well, the feeling hasn’t quite set it,” he began. “But, I do suddenly feel the urge to do something, change something,” he confessed, his eyes shining with determination. After their night of shared vulnerability, no matter how sourly it had ended, it felt natural to be himself with her.

He couldn’t help but grin when she looked away with a secretive smile. He knew he still had a chance. He simply needed to go slow this time.

“That’s good. I’m eager to see what kind of revolution you would raise.”

Julius had plans to make connections at the banquet and he had already had a draft of an awards system somewhere in his head. But for now, it was only them in this clearing. He could be himself. He pressed a finger to his lips and leaned forward as if to share a secret.

“Shh, don’t tell anyone though,” he said playfully. “It’s a secret.”

Aika giggled despite herself.

“I suppose you are going to change the kingdom before the nobles even realize.”

“Exactly! You—” He quickly caught her as she stumbled. “Get it…” he finished quietly, concern strewn across his face.

“Hey, what’s going on?” Julius asked as he looked over her. She was beginning to sweat as she took shallow breaths. “Are you alright?”

Aika exhaled sharply when pain shot up her back.

“I’m fine,” she lied, waving him off as her jaw clenched. It didn’t go unnoticed by him.

“No, you are not,” he hissed.

“Fine, I’m not,” she snapped back. “Just help me get close to the Swallowtail.” She stiffened when he wrapped an arm around her waist. Julius noticed and silently apologized as he guided her delicately.

“What’s going on?” He asked.

She sighed as she pressed herself against the magic device. There is no harm in telling him and he would need to know just in case he ever needed for her to do a forbidden spell or a ritual.

“I’m still weak from the spell on Saturday.” She brought the mana in the device carefully up to the surface and she felt her strength returning to her, bit-by-bit.

“Spell?” His brows furrowed. “What spell?”

“Remember the giant, blue fireball?” His eyes widened. She quickly clarified before he could think it was her who summoned fire. “Evan was the one who conjured up the fireball, not me. But he can’t control the spell so I had to use weg magic to take control of the spell and guide it towards the enemy while holding them in place.”

Julius looked at her with virtual stars in his eyes.

“So that Mana Zone spell was yours? And you guided that Sun in the sky?”

Aika grew bashful at the admiration in his tone.

“Ah, well, I had a lot of practice for Mana Zone and it wasn’t that big. I’ve seen bigger fireball spells,” she murmured as she bit her lip.

“Bigger—” He took a double take as the twinkle in his eyes shone brighter. “Where!? I want to see a bigger fireball!”

She laughed at the cute expression on his face.

“I’ll show you sometime,” she promised as she continued to fill up her mana reserves. Aika was silently glad her plan worked. She was no longer sore all over, no doubt the life essence of her mana healing her, and she could stand unsupported.

Julius looked curiously between her hand and the Swallowtail.

“But why do you seem to be in pain? Fatigue is common for mana exhaustion but I have never heard of pain,” he remarked as he laid his own hand next to her, slowly sending out his magic into it. It was what he originally came here for after all.

She sighed heavily. Just thinking about it exhausted her.

“It is one of the side effects of using large amounts of corrupted magic. It is quite harmful to a human body.” Aika explained the long list of effects and how incapacitated it leaves her. “It’s quite painful but it’s incredibly useful so it has its pros and cons.”

She felt flattered by the worry on his face.

“Are there any long-term effects?”

“No, not that—” Well, there was the negative mana affecting everyone around her but it was only because of one ritual years ago. Using more negative magic hadn’t exasperated it thankfully. “Not that I’m aware of, no.”

Julius touched his chin thoughtfully as she continued.

“But please don’t hesitate to ask me to do any spells or rituals for the sake of the kingdom,” she laughed wryly. “I am the only person who could do them after all.”

“Ah, no, no. If it affects you this badly, I would never even think of asking you,” he assured her with a shining smile.

Aika fought off a grin. That...was really kind of him. Her Uncle was quick to jump on the offer and she was glad to be of use to help this kingdom but the concern…Her heart beat quickly at the thought.

No!

She mentally shook her head. He should be more concerned about the kingdom not her! What if she could help where no one could?

“Please don’t think of me, think of the kingdom. If I could help, then I would. Whether you accept my help or not is an entirely different matter.”

Due to being particularly sensitive to magic at the moment because of the newly acquired mana, she felt a stab of Julius’ magic hit her.

“And besides, I like using it,” she whispered, the real truth unexpectedly slipping out.

What. Did he just—

She quickly masked her shock and met his gaze. He surprisingly didn’t seem disgusted or judgemental at her confession. He just seemed lost in thought as he stared back at her.

“I see,” he simply uttered, his tone giving away nothing.

Usually, any other person’s first instinct would be to get mad at forcing the truth out of them, but Aika, who was quite adept at using backhanded tactics, was very impressed and curious. How on Earth could he use such magic? It seemed like a part of his natural attribute. He truly had a limitless magic potential. He could use Time Magic but that didn’t stop him from using some form of spatial and transformation magic, but also a hidden magic spell perhaps that could induce the truth out of somebody. And here she was, thinking he was a straight-laced, goody two-shoes Wizard King.

But, no real King is truly virtuous.

She cleared her throat before a giddy smile could slip through. It would have been exhausting to work with someone with a strict moral compass. Though, she shouldn’t be surprised after seeing him on the battlefield. He was terrifying.

“Well, I suppose you did help us gain a massive advantage with your help on the battlefield the other day. If you hadn’t wiped out the Diamond army, taking on both Spade and Diamond would have been disastrous for our troops.”

Aika hummed in agreement and decided to say nothing. Being complimented by anyone other than her Uncle was strange. No one could recognize her efforts because the Amulet of Ignorance ensured it and she preferred it that way.

A question struck her when she realized where they were.

“Julius?”

He looked at her questioningly.

“Why are you here in the first place? Don’t you have a banquet to attend?”

He grinned widely as he lifted his palm off of the Swallowtail.

“The banquet is in about half an hour and I’ve come to make my annual trip to deposit some magic in the Swallowtail. You know, for emergencies such as yours,” he winked slyly.

Aika nodded in understanding, rolling her eyes at his jibe. She had also left some of her magic in there for emergencies.

“Well, you should clean up before going to the banquet then,” she said, looking pointedly at the ridiculous lipstick dotting his face. She threw her leg over the broom, ready to leave.

“Wait!” He quickly stopped her, an arm reaching out. “Could I drop you off at your place? You might still be tired.”

“Yes,” she blurted out. She was going to be her own ruin. Why was she doing this to herself?

“Great!” He placed a hand on her shoulder and they immediately found themselves in Aika’s living room.

“May I use the bathroom to wash my face?” Julius asked innocently. Oh, he was doing this on purpose, wasn’t he?

“That lipstick won’t come off with water. Most lipsticks used by women in the Noble Realm are magicked to stick on whatever surface they are applied on and the kind they used was the type of lipstick used to ‘mark people,’” she explained as she walked away. “I’ll go get some wipes for you.” He also seemed determined to stick around and he wasn’t even hiding it. Aika sighed internally. She needed to keep him at an arm's length. Even she cannot resist temptation.

Lost in her thoughts, she walked back to where Julius was, carrying a few wet wipes specifically made to wipe off makeup. Before she could realize what she was doing, she placed a wipe on his cheek as she angled his face to the side with her other hand.

The moment her bare hand touched his chin, Aika began to panic, though none showed on her face. In her mind, she began swearing in all the languages she knew, putting even the most seasoned sailors to shame. She was so used to tending to people that she completely forgot her determination to avoid these kinds of situations at all costs so her crush could go away, but, nooo.

And once she did something, she always stuck through. There was no backing out now.

Aika began wiping his face without hesitation but that didn’t stop her from berating herself.

Oh my fucking god. You are a fool, a whole clown, Aika. You should just quit your life, change your name and join your ex-fiance’s circus as a clown. It would fit you very well. Start practicing your honking now, you numbnut.

Wait, did he react? Wait, I don’t want to know. Oh, shit. I definitely want to know. No, you don’t. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Don’tlookdon’tlookdon’tlook.

She looked.

Julius was staring right into her very soul from underneath his lashes.

She quickly averted her eyes, a blush rising to her face as her heart seemed determined to break free from her ribcage. She regulated her breaths and willed them to be normal. Thankfully, she had a lot of practice.

But then, he ducked his head so she could have better access and innocuously pressed his cheek into her palm. To top it all off, he closed his eyes and sighed contentedly.

That’s it. Aika was dying. She was having a heart attack. She wanted to scream so badly. She could feel the room spin around her.

Why? Why did you lean in? Have you no shame? A woman wipes your face and you start making bedroom eyes at her? Oh my god ohmygodohmygod.

How she wished she had her amulet now. If she wore it for a while, everyone except a select few would forget she even existed.

Aika stared at his serene smile, his eyes still closed.

A frown crawled up her face. She started wiping faster, cradling his cheek with her hand while she wiped the few spots on his neck.

She refused to corrupt someone as sweet as him.

“What’s that face for?” Julius piped up, startling her. “Jealous?” he smirked.

Wow, you are completely shameless. Wait— Jealous?

“Oh, sure.” Aika rolled her eyes. “I’m jealous of the women who virtually attacked the Wizard King like a bunch of harpys, marking him with magic lipstick,” She leaned closer to his ear. “While I had his head between my legs.”

He turned away, blushing as he covered his mouth. Finally , he seemed flustered. He did not expect her to retort when she herself was panicking. Aika stepped away as she smirked, satisfied that there was no more lipstick nor that overconfident expression on his face.

“I’ll swing by your office tomorrow to drop some stuff off,” Aika called out as she walked away into the kitchen. Julius shook his head as he gathered himself and followed her. A blush still present on his face, he leaned against the doorframe as he watched Aika move around the kitchen. The very same kitchen where he was turned down.

“What stuff?”

He asked quietly as he buried the memories. Hopefully it wasn’t any kind of paperwork.

“Some stuff to help you as Wizard King and some other things I thought you might like.”

That peaked his interest.

“Oh? What kind of things?”

“Julius,” Aika turned to him, exasperated. “Don’t you have a banquet to get to?”

“You want to get rid of me already?” He asked cheekily, very reminiscent of that day.

“No, but I’m sure you would enjoy a good surprise as much as the next person and I really think you should go.” Her face softened. “Don’t you think it’s strange enough that you stuck around this long?” she asked quietly.

He fiddled with the edge of his sleeve.

“Maybe,” he looked up at her. “But it’s only so I could just be myself before I have to go deal with nobles,” he smiled wryly. “I find politics rather boring, you see. I‘m putting it off as much as possible.”

“Diplomacy is what gets things done in your position,” Aika imparted as she turned back around to arrange the dishes in the cabinet. Her aunt and uncle will move in tonight so she has to get everything in order.

If Julius finds politics boring, then he may not be as effective. She quickly needed to rid him of that mindset. It would be hard to implement changes if he wasn’t persuasive or have any positive connections with the higher-ups.

“If you find it boring, I suggest you talk about your ideas and plans and observe who are open and who are not. You are quite impassioned about the things you like but I also suggest you keep the topics relevant,” she added lightly as she threw a smile over her shoulder. “Your ideas may also come off naive to the wrong people and could turn away many supporters but you have to stand your ground. Putting a neutral front may seem appealing but it’s only useful for maintaining the status quo,” she asserted as she looked Julius in the eye. “Not for a silent revolution.”

He gaped at her. Master Raymond made it sound as if her unsolicited advice was useless. He actually planned to stay neutral as she predicted but like she said, it wouldn’t get things done. How was she experienced in such things?

“I-I’ll try,” he finally got out. “Were you a ruler in your past life or something?” He asked jokingly. Aika laughed as she turned around and crossed her arms over her chest. She leaned back against the counter with a smirk as she asked,

“Julius, who do you think I am?”

He was slightly thrown off by the question.

“Uh, Aika Tolliver, Time Mage, Spymaster, and advisor to the 27th Wizard King?”

“Also the CEO of an international company,” she added.

Julius took a double take.

“What?!”

She palmed her face.

“So, Master Raymond didn’t tell you?”

“No?”

“God,” she groaned. “I’ll explain more later but I may not hold any political dominion but we are both C-Level executives and some of our tasks are quite similar even if our institutions are different. I am able to give you solid advice on such matters without being an actual ruler.” Aika fiddled with her pocket watch. “You should go.” She said as she guided him through the door and back into the living room. “It’s almost time for the banquet!”

He stumbled as he processed her words. Julius quickly laid a hand on her shoulder to stop her as he looked at her, dazed.

“Wait, so why do you insist on working for the Wizard King?”

Aika tamped down her irritation. There was no reason to get upset. He hasn’t fully transitioned into his duties and information he should be aware of about his staff.

She took a calming breath.

“Because, there are multiple prophecies that state that this continent would spell the end of the world. Everyone around the world know something is going to happen on this continent,” she said coolly. “No one outside are acquainted with the inner workings nor do they like this region. There are contingencies to contain the ‘end of the world’ but no efforts to actually stop it. Me being me, decided to volunteer to be the hero and you ,” she pointed a finger at Julius “are going to help whether you like it or not, understood?”

He blinked as a smile crawled up his face which quickly grew into a grin. That sounded quite exciting! Maybe his tenure as Wizard King may not be entirely boring with a mission like that!

“Y-Yes ma’am!” He let out a chuckle. “I hope you realize I’m only going to pester you with more questions when I see you next time.”

Maybe I do want you to come back and pester me, A voice in her head piped up intrusively.

“Yes, I’m aware,” she said rolling her eyes. “Now go!”

Julius saluted her with a mischievous grin and vanished.

Aika stood staring at the empty space where he was before pressing her head against the wall next to her with a deep sigh.

Why did he have to be at the Swallowtail right when I needed to? Why the fuck did I touch his face? And did he have to be obvious with his advances so much? What did he mean “just be himself?” She clenched her fist. The only way she could avoid overthinking was to throw herself into work.

She composed herself and held her head high. There was no time to dwell on such things. She examined her living room as she brought her to-do list to the front of her mind. She had a lot of things to clean, organize and pack.

Aika rolled up her sleeves and tied her hair back.

Time to get to work.

Notes: aiaiai that was a handful Julius figures out why Aika is avoiding him next chapter and you guys get one letter to figure out what he is LMAOOOOOO

#julius novachrono #oc: Aika Tolliver #marx francois #julius novachrono x oc #julius novachrono x reader #black clover #black clover fanfiction #demons run fic stuff #chapter 8

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spoondrifts · 5 years ago

Text

so I've fallen head over heels for good guy Jonalias and must write more about it

Elias knows that everyone who works in the Archives becomes bound to the Institute, but he has a delicate balance to maintain between serving the Eye and watching over his staff, so after Gertrude Robinson dies, he promotes Jon and transfers his assistants, hoping that this time around Elias will be able to keep the archival staff safe from the various mishaps that tend to befall them.

Jon will end up being the Archivist regardless, but Elias is sure that letting him get started on his own will ultimately be more beneficial.

Obviously this goes wrong as Elias' initial hands-off approach leads to the Corruption festering in the Institute, and though he pulls the lever as soon as he's able, he's too late to prevent Jon from being marked. This is unfortunate because Elias really doesn't want the world to end, and a third mark means the stakes are ramping up. Elias scraps his Distant Assistance plan entirely when Martin finds Gertrude's body in the tunnels.

Now Jon is having a paranoid breakdown, which only worsens as Elias tries to actually connect with his Archivist in an attempt to build trust so that the revelation of fear gods existing might be introduced more gently.

Elias, swinging by Jon's office for the third time this week: are you alright? do you need anything? do you want a raise?

Jon, as soon as he's gone: supplemental. both Elias and Martin are being strangely nice to me. Martin made me tea this morning and Elias keeps offering more weeks of paid leave. are they in on this together? more at ten.

And when Elias discovers Sasha has been replaced, he curses himself for not getting rid of that damn table earlier. One night, after months of putting up with this intrusion, in a rash moment of fury-- how dare that thing invade his Insitute, how dare it masquerade as one of his staff --he corners the Not-Sasha.

The hallway is shadowed and dim. Everyone has gone home for the night. Not-Sasha's heels click on the waxed floors as she casually makes her way towards him.

Elias blocks her exit. He's taller than her, but her teeth are too sharp and her green eyes are too bright, and a shiver, unbidden, runs down his spine.

"Hello," he says coldly. "Going home for the night?"

"Yes. Have a good night, Mr. Bouchard."

Not-Sasha smiles at him, and his patience snaps. He grabs her by the coat collar and slams her up against the wall, relishing in the way she yelps in shock. People tend to forget about his violent and unpredictable temper.

"You will leave my Institute," he snarls, the weight of the Ceaseless Watcher's gaze falling heavily on this uncanny creature. Not-Sasha growls darkly at him. "You will not return. This is a temple of the Eye and you have desecrated its sacred archive with your foul presence."

Not-Sasha bares her teeth at him, nails like claws digging into his arm. Her appearance shifts and warps like fuzzing static, and Elias feels her power straining against his. "You're not strong enough to banish me."

"I will call in the couriers to take your table far, far away, and you won't be able to hurt anyone ever again."

"The couriers don't answer to you."

Leaning in close and keeping eye contact as Not-Sasha hisses in pain, Elias says lowly, "I watch over my own. Leave, or I will make you."

Not-Sasha suddenly goes very still. Her mouth falls open and Elias can see her teeth sharpening as she speaks, her voice warped and thrumming. "You should keep a closer eye on your Archivist."

Elias steps back. He tears his Sight away from Not-Sasha and casts it frantically around the rest of the Institute and there--

He Sees Jon, lifting an axe above his head, and--

Sharp laughter bursts from Not-Sasha, harsh and echoing, and she doubles over with the force of her wild cackling. Elias grits his teeth, torn, and makes his decision.

He spins on his heel and races towards Artefact Storage, that haunting laughter trailing him all the way there.

Skidding to a halt and throwing open the doors, Elias catches Jon just as he brings down the final blow and the table collapses.

"Jon," Elias says breathlessly, "what have you done?"

Jon whirls. His eyes are wild with fear. The axe clatters from his grasp. "I-I destroyed it. Destroyed the thing that took Sasha-"

"Jon, the table was binding it."

Elias sees the moment the realization hits Jon. Horror spreads over his face.

Delighted laughter floats down the hallway outside. Jon turns, sucking in a sharp breath as Not-Sasha calls out, "Joooooon! We should chat, Jon!"

"Dammit," Elias says. "There's only one exit."

"What do we do?"

Elias takes a single second to assess the situation before making a decision. He grabs Jon's arm and hauls him farther back into Artefact Storage, behind the tall, imposing shelves. Jon stumbles after him. There should be a door somewhere around here, waiting for them to notice it.

There. In the corner sits a perfectly innocent-looking yellow door.

As Jon sputters in protest, Elias knocks three times on the door.

"W-Wait, that's Michael's door, he's-"

"A monster, yes," Elias says. He turns to face Jon, who has his arms wrapped around himself as his body shudders with adrenaline. "And unfortunately our only option. I have no doubt that the Distortion is rather invested in you due to your position as Head Archivist."

"Why?"

Elias smiles despite himself. Relentless questions, even in the most dire of circumstances. "I'll explain everything later. Keeping you in the dark has proven to be a mistake on my part."

"I-"

The yellow door creaks open, squealing on its hinges. Michael is draped in the doorway, knife-like fingers clicking together as a toothy smile splits his spiraling features. Elias has to tear his eyes away from the Distortion's impossible shifting form.

"That was very stupid, Archivist," Michael says, chuckling softly. The sound makes Jon wince.

Outside, Not-Sasha cackles with glee. Jon starts to tremble.

"It seems you're in need of a door."

Jon stammers something incoherent.

"Yes, we are," Elias says. "Are you offering safe passage?"

"Not safe, certainly not," Michael giggles. "But passage. Yes. Though only the Archivist, I'm afraid. The Institute's Heart is not welcome within my corridors."

"What do you mean, the 'Heart'?" Jon asks, and Michael just laughs and laughs and laughs until Elias' ears begin to ring.

"Go, Jon," he says firmly, pushing his Archivist closer to the doors. "I can always find you. Wherever you end up, you will be able to navigate if you keep a level head and trust your Sight. Now go."

Casting back one last terrified glance, Jon vanishes into the twisting, vibrant hallways. Michael leers at Elias.

"Turned over a new leaf, have we?"

"Something like that. If you harm my Archivist, I will assure you, you will regret it."

Michael's face contorts into a warped mockery of a scowl, all jagged edges and blown glass-esque shapes. Elias stares him down until Michael slams the door in his face.

The door is gone, or had there ever really been one? Elias shakes his head and ducks into one of the aisles, rapidly scanning the dangerous contents.

By the exit, Not-Sasha bends and crumples in on herself to fit through the door, her body now a mass of grey limbs and hollow, empty caverns for eyes. Elias takes in a shallow breath and snatches a Leitner off the shelf.

"Where are you, Jon?" she trills.

Elias runs a hand over the cover of the book. It's volatile, but perfectly suited for his purposes.

"Jon."

Stepping out into the open, Elias wills himself to stand his ground, even as Not-Sasha's head crunches and snaps to look at him. Her limbs skitter like an insect.

"I warned you," Elias says.

"I'll wear your skin," Not-Sasha threatens, though she doesn't move to attack him.

"I hate to draw comparisons between us, but I'm afraid you wouldn't like this skin much. It's second hand." Then Elias flips open the Leitner-- Tied & Bound --and begins to read.

Meanwhile, in the tunnels, Martin and Tim are arguing.

"Fine," Tim mutters.

"No, it's not fine!" Martin hisses, his words echoing down the dark and ominous tunnel. "You’ve been going on and on and on about how alone you feel because Jon’s not taking your feelings into account while he’s having his breakdown, but you’re just doing the same thing!" His voice pitches with fury, as restrained as he can manage. "We’ve all been going through this, Tim, but you’re the only one who’s been running away. Even Elias has been trying to help, and he barely does anything around here."

"Okay," Tim relents, holding his hand up in surrender; a pipe dangles from his other hand, which he'd found earlier. They walk in silence for a few more minutes. "I don't think there's anyone down here-"

"Tim?"

Tim lets out a shout of surprise as Jon appears around the corner, cringing back from the noise. Jon is hunched in on himself protectively, as if he expects Tim to attack him.

"Jon?" Martin gasps.

"What the hell are you doing down here?" Tim demands, taking a step towards Jon.

"I could ask you the same thing! I told you both to go home."

Tim scoffs. "And you thought we would just unthinkingly obey you?"

"I'd hoped you would have some self preservation. Evidently not."

"Jon," Martin interjects. He places a placating hand on Tim's shoulder. "What was that thing? It... It looked like-"

"Sasha," Jon says quietly. "Yes.

"Stop saying it looked like Sasha," Tim snaps. "It wasn't her."

Jon's expression twists with pain. "Tim... it took her during the Prentiss attack. It's a changeling. It takes people and replaces-"

Tim lunges for Jon, who staggers backward and trips, landing hard on his elbows. Martin tries to grab Tim but the other man is stronger, yanking Jon up by his shirt and shouting, "How long have you known? How long?!"

"Tim!" Martin cries.

Jon shoves feebly at Tim's hands. Tim shakes him roughly.

"Do you get a kick out of being an psychotic bastard? How long have you kept this yourself?"

"Mr. Stoker that is enough."

Everyone goes still.

In the middle of the corridor stands Elias, pale green eyes glowing in the dim. With an axe in one hand and a book in the other, the cover coated with grime and dirt, he looks abruptly menacing, and Martin finds himself shrinking back from Elias' furious stare.

"Violence may have resolved some issues in the past," he says, voice tight, "but not this one. Jon only discovered Sasha's replacement today."

Reluctantly, Tim releases Jon and gets to his feet. Jon scrambles up, ducking behind Martin as if to hide from Tim's anger. Martin touches Jon's arm gently; he's shaking.

"Elias," Jon says hoarsely. "What happened to the- the Not-Sasha?"

"Let's just say it won't be seeing the light of day for quite some time and leave it at that."

"And w-what about what Michael said? He called you the Heart of the Institute, and wouldn't let you through his door. What does that mean?"

"How did you find us so quickly?" Tim asks, narrowing his eyes.

"You knew about Sasha, too, didn't you?" Martin pipes up nervously.

Elias dusts himself off, swings the axe up to rest on his shoulder, and sighs. He gives the archival staff a resigned smile. "I suppose an explanation is in order, then. Shall we?"

Unnoticed, a tape recorder clicks off.

#after this elias explains everything about the entities to them #which prompts jon to ask about the other avatars #elias: *7% dumber than in canon* sure! here's all the relevant files :) have fun researching #jon as he copies down mike crew's address: mhm. yeah #glad you guys like my niche jonah content #expect more from this au in the future #long post #tma #tma fic #tma au #the magnus archives #magnuspod #elias bouchard #jonah magnus #jonathan sims #not!sasha #timothy stoker #martin blackwood #good guy elias

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wolftraps · 5 years ago

Note

"They’ve got one single person who is Desolation + the End (an orphan Daisy found in the burned out shell of a house that they all sort of co-raised...)" Oh I'd love to hear more about them. Both in the Institute family accidentally an entire baby sense and in the WOW is this the wrong person to have mad at you sense. Give them a touch of the Hunt and they're deadlier than any Slaughter. (Course, thats what mum's for.)

Right, so, uh, I didn’t mean to write so much. But I guess that’s the story of Reverb. So, here’s 2500 words of Daisy and Jon raising a monster, I guess?

Basira finds the lead. There have been rumors that the Lightless Flame is trying to create a new Agnes. Jon thinks they may already have. He doesn’t Know, but his attempts to do so gave him a nasty sunburn for a couple hours, so he passed it off to them instead. Almost everyone involved in Agnes’s birth and childhood are gone, but there are still a couple known contacts, and at this point, Daisy can usually just follow the smell of burning.

It’s Basira who finds the lead, though, and takes them up to a tiny town about 100km north of Glasgow.

To what was a tiny town north of Glasgow. Most of it isn’t even smoking anymore by the time they get there. If anyone survived, they’ve already fled. All except for one. There’s no sound that gives them away. No crying or screams. Daisy just follows the scent of smoke to the epicenter of the destruction, and huddled in the middle of the burned out shell of a house, with their head buried in their knees, is a child.

Her first step into the building disturbs some rubble, just enough to get the child’s attention without immediately prompting an attack. Their head snaps up, and they may not be crying now, but the redness of their eyes says they have been.

“Daisy,” Basira warns as she takes a step closer, and Daisy motions for her to keep back.

Another step, the child tenses. Another, they still don’t attack. Another. Another. When she’s finally only a couple meters away, the kid makes ready to run. So that’s where Daisy stops, and sits down amid the rubble and ash.

“Hi,” she says softly. “I’m not here to hurt you. My name is Daisy.”

No response.

“Can you tell me your name?”

Nothing.

“That’s alright. You can tell me when you’re ready.” Daisy slowly gestures at the destruction around them. “I’m going to take a guess and say you did this.” The child tenses. “Also going to guess you didn’t mean to.” They stare at her suspiciously for another few seconds and then jerkily shake their head.

“That’s okay,” Daisy reassures them. “I understand. I’m going to sit here as long as you need to feel comfortable, okay? You can talk when you’re ready, but I’m only here to help.” Their eyes flick briefly to Basira, still standing just outside the demolished wall. “That’s my partner, Basira. She’s not going to hurt you either. She’ll stay right there unless you say she can come in.”

And so they stay for another twenty minutes, sitting in silence.

“D-Daisy?” the child says eventually, their voice cracking and hoarse from smoke.

“I’m here.”

“You… don’t really look like a Daisy.” Daisy laughs.

“My real name is Alice.”

“You don’t look like an Alice, either.”

“Yeah. I didn’t really like it. Daisy’s better.” They nod.

“I’m… I’m Shay.”

“Hi, Shay. Good to meet you.”

“I… I really didn’t mean to,” they say, and their shoulders shake, but there are no tears. Daisy suspects they may be too dehydrated. “I just… I just wanted to see. And- and then I couldn’t stop it. And everyone was screaming! And- and-”

“Shh-shh. It’s okay, Shay. Can I come closer?” Shay nods and Daisy moves slowly, no sudden movements, until she sits again at Shay’s side. “I’d like to hug you, if that’s okay.”

“I- I don’t-”

“That’s fine too. I’m right here. However you need me.” Shay studies her for a long moment, barely breathing, and then a sob wracks through them and they’re buried in her side.

“I didn’t mean to!”

“I know. It’s okay. I know.” She rocks them gently until the shaking stops.

“What’s going to happen to me now?”

“If it’s alright with you, I’d like to take you home now.”

“Your home?”

“My home.”

“With you and Basira.”

“With us, and my friend Jon. And Martin and Sasha. Our whole little family. And yours if you want it.”

“A child,” Georgie says incredulously. “Someone gave you a child?”

“Technically, Daisy acquired a child. I thought it best they learn in a more stable environment. Also they’re almost eleven. It’s not like we’re trying to raise a toddler in the Archives.”

“I’m not sure that’s better, Jon.” The child in question side-eyes them, but says nothing, just continues to sort papers. “They’re very quiet.”

“Now,” Jon scoffs a bit. “There was a bit of a row earlier, and a yell that may have spawned a small tornado. Shay is cleaning up the mess they created, in silence, or they won’t be going out with Sasha tomorrow to witness Hurricane Gabrielle hit Florida.” He meets Shay’s glare with a flat stare of his own. Stubborn ten-year-olds have a remarkable ability to not be intimidated by staring, though they still break first, with a touch of an embarrassed blush.

“Jon! They’re a child.”

“Georgie! They’re not human. And I’m certainly not going to push them to pick a second patron at this age, so I would rather they participate in events that will occur anyway than for them to start blowing things up near our home.”

“So if they don’t behave, you’ll starve them.” The glare Jon aims at her has her taking a step back. It’s not often Jon aims any of his powers at Georgie, but it’s abundantly clear that that isn’t something she should have said.

“If they don’t behave, they will be taken to northern Georgia, where the hurricane will likely cause serious flooding, but little irreparable damage. They’re already Desolation, Georgie, and I am not going to punish them for living.”

“Shay.”

“Oh, uh, hey, mum! W-what’s up?”

“Explain.”

“I’m just… protesting? Oh, come on! We’ve been careful. Minor injuries and some lingering trauma only. And you can’t tell me some of these assholes don’t deserve it!”

Daisy looks at them sternly for a good half minute, just enough to let them squirm.

“You’re targeting the wrong pressure points. And his lordship is over there,” she points to the building currently behind Shay, right on the edge of the localized earthquake they have going.

“Oh. Oops.”

“If you want to level the building three down from that, I won’t complain. Got a Stranger I’ve been after for a while squatting there.”

“Aww.”

“Don’t.”

“What? I think it’s sweet you still bring him Strangers for their anniversary!”

“You want pointers or not?”

“Not saying another word. What’s the secret to efficiently destroying a building?”

Jon finds them in the tunnels, sitting against a wall, wrapped around Patrząc. He sits beside them, just close enough to brush arms. Even then, he can feel the heat coming off them. Not burning, but feverish at least, if they were capable of having fevers.

Neither of them say a word for several minutes.

“I keep trying to cry,” Shay says, soft and flat. “I want to. I- I really fucked up this time, but I just… can’t. I can feel them, their terror, and… I can feel when it stops. Every single one, it feels like i’m being dropped into ice water, but I’ve been burning so hot, it feels more like a balm. I… I know we’re not human, but shouldn’t- shouldn’t I be sad? Or… something?”

Jon leans his head back against the wall and considers. “I- spent a lot of my youth blaming myself for… everything, really. It took me a long time to accept that ‘you always have a choice’ and ‘some things are beyond your control’ aren’t mutually exclusive. Just because there is a choice, doesn’t mean it could’ve gone any other way than how it did.”

“Didn’t you literally go back in time to change everything?”

“Yes. And I changed… a lot. It was hard to think of it that way at the time. Back then, it seemed like no matter what I did, everything was still going to go wrong. Some people probably would’ve been… No, no one would’ve been better off. Not in the end. That’s what I still have trouble remembering. We told you I came back because the world ended.”

“Yeah? Because of Jonah Magnus. You came back to kill him, so it didn’t happen.”

“I’m the one who ended it.”

“Wh- wait, what? But you…”

“We tried to run away, but I was too much the Archivist to go without statements. Basira sent us some, but Jonah slipped one in, and it held the words to perform the ritual. By the time I realized what it was, I couldn’t stop reading. It wasn’t a choice I deliberately made, but I ended the world.”

“Oh… fuck.”

“Heh. Yeah. And still, I wouldn’t have come back- I wouldn’t have been able to come back- if Martin hadn’t been killed.”

“I don’t-”

“Do you know about Agnes?”

“Agnes… Montague? I read some of the statements, why?”

“If Daisy never found you. If you were raised by the Lightless Flame. You were meant to be her replacement. Your birth was orchestrated to bring about the apocalypse in the image of Desolation.”

“… Oh.”

“Agnes was conflicted. She had doubts. Eventually, she decided she couldn’t do it. She told them to hang her, so her spark would return to the fires of Desolation and they could try again.”

“… Oh.”

“Do you know the difference between you and her?”

“She chose not to destroy the world and I’m going to do it by accident?”

“No. It’s the same as the difference between timelines for me. The people around Agnes made her choose between dying and ending the world. The difference is that your family would never want you to do either.”

“I… Jon- Dad- There- there are still so many lives being lost. Because of me. And-”

“And you can feel them. Yes. You said it doesn’t feel bad. Does it feel good?”

“Wh- Um… Not- not especially? Mostly it just… is. It’s almost like… part of me wants to be satisfied, but instead I’m just numb.”

“That’s probably the best we could hope for.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I know. I’ll do my best to explain. We should go back up, though. Your mother is being gruff, but it’s because she’s worried about you.” Jon starts to lever himself up but is stopped by a warm grip on his arm.

“Could- could we stay down here, just a bit longer? The- the cold feels nice.” Jon smiles softly and sits and lets them lean in to rest their head on his shoulder, even though they’ve got enough height on him it can’t be comfortable. The two of them won’t be able to sit here forever. A fretting Daisy is already wearing a hole in the floor of the Archives with her pacing. And it’s unlikely the forest fire is going to go out without some supernatural intervention. He remembers this feeling, though, and how much he depended on Martin’s support.

He can give them this, for a little while longer, and then he’ll call Oliver Banks.

Ethan has been at the Institute for half a year when he finally meets Jon’s kid. They’re… a lot livelier than he expected. They blow through the Archives like a whirlwind (and, in fact, may spawn a small one, though it only disturbs some of the discredited statements, so it’s not like it matters), and almost slide into a seat across from Jon.

“Mum says you have something for me,” they say, practically bouncing. “What is it? What is it?”

“Hello, Shay. Lovely to see you too. I’m doing just swell, thanks for asking. How are you?”

“Oh please, you know exactly how i’m doing. But… yes, hi Jon, I missed you too.” Ethan has never once had any cause to doubt his mother’s love, but he doesn’t think he’s ever seen her look at him with half as much fondness as Jon looks at Shay. Though, in fairness, that’s probably because he’s a bit too close to the situation with his own mum. “Soooo?”

“The Vast.”

“Oooh, that’s a new one. I thought Martin still had a pretty good hold on the Fairchilds.”

“Simon is trying his hand at space exploration again and won’t answer our calls. Helena says this new avatar isn’t a Fairchild and has no stake in our alliance.”

“Is she telling the truth?”

“Unfortunately. Kinsey Harris is a former RAF pilot. In 2031, there was a malfunction and his plane went down. He did not. In August of 2032, he came to the Blackwood Institute and made a statement. Ethan?”

Jon has been doing this more and more lately, quizzing Ethan on case numbers. Sometimes he remembers from his searches through old statements, sometimes he doesn’t. On at least two occasions, though, he’s known without ever seeing it.

“Umm… 07.2031.2032/08/14… I/L/R?” Jon nods, and Ethan tries not to look too proud of himself.

“New guy?” Shay asks, looking him over. They had clearly missed him in their sprint to Jon’s office.

“Not that new,” Jon scoffs.

“Jon.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t need to! Martin and Mum and even Sasha did it for you! I’m pretty sure Sasha doesn’t know what year it is half the time, let alone how long it’s been since I last visited the Institute.”

“Sasha knows what year it is at least 86% of the time, and she knows when it’s been too long since you came home.”

“Can’t we go back to you asking me to kill a guy? That conversation was a lot more fun.” Jon stares at them until they start to squirm, just a little, and Ethan’s spent enough time with him that he’s pretty sure he can see Jon fighting a smirk.

“Kinsey took one of our HR employees, Buried-aligned. She was missing for a week before she crash-landed in the front hall. Now one of our library staff, Len, Pitch, is gone.” All of Shay’s fidgeting has stopped, and there’s a sense of… something in the Archives. Static tension. The calm before a storm.

“Right. Give me everything you have on him.”

“Ethan has been collecting it all. He can fill you in while you grab something from the canteen.”

Shay doesn’t so much roll their eyes as their whole head. “You cannot judge me for skipping a couple meals. I was busy.”

“I can and I will. Go. Eat lunch. And we will see you for dinner later.”

For a second it looks like there’s going to be an argument, but Shay stops before saying anything. “Who’s cooking?” they ask. Jon really does smirk now.

“Georgie and I are making curry.”

“Yessss. Okay. I’ll see you later. Love you!” They drop a kiss on Jon’s cheek and then Ethan is being pulled up the stairs by someone with Jon’s intensity and Ms. Tonner’s feral energy and he wonders if maybe he should be worried, but doubts he’s going to have much time for that.

#daisy tonner #jonathan sims #my writing #my tma fic #reverb ficlet #shay tonner #reverb #not a sad #ethan herne #the reverb in these holy halls #tma #Anonymous #you asked

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gabriel-agreste-has-no-rights · 4 years ago

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Rating: G

Chapter Summary: Adrien and Ladybug skate together. Chloe and Kagami play damage control.

Word Count: 2,809 | Chapter 3/4

XXX

“XY!” Chloé shoved partygoers aside as she stormed up to the DJ table.

“Huh?” Her former-favorite musician looked at her like she was crazy. He was crazy! ...And he couldn’t hear her through those stupid clunky headphones.

She yanked them off of his ears.

“Hey! What gives, Cholera?”

“It’s Chloé. Seriously, we’ve met five times! How hard is it to remember my name?” If she had to call Jean Claude by his real name, the least everyone else could do was give her the same respect.

“Chloé, Coleslaw, whatever. Why are you yelling?”

Chloé pinched the bridge of her nose. XY was probably just too stupid to remember. Just like he was too stupid to follow basic instructions.

“You posted a picture to Instagram!”

“Yeah?” XY grinned and dug his pinkie in his ear. Ugh. His ears had to be clogged if he could stand being so close to the blasting music. “Pretty cute, huh? Lu’s a really good skater.”

It had been a pretty cute photo of Luka lifting XY above his head, while XY spread his arms wide like an airplane. Frankly, it was shocking that Luka’s skinny noodle arms could lift his boyfriend. But none of that was the point.

��No one is supposed to post photos until after the party.” It shouldn’t have even been possible. XY’s phone must have been some fancy model that could get past Max’s data block. “You’re going to bring Adrien’s bodyguard right to us!”

“Pshaw, it’s no big deal. They’ll be too busy looking at me to even notice he’s here.”

Chloé smacked her forehead. She did not get paid enough for this.

“Is something wrong?” Luka asked, approaching Chloé and XY with two slices of passionfruit cake.

“Yes, there is! Your utterly ridiculous boyfriend is going to get Adrien’s party busted!”

Luka sighed at XY. “Baby, we talked about this.”

XY’s bottom lip jutted out. “But… it was just one teeny-tiny little picture…”

“Just listen to Chloé and take it down. You can post it again when the party’s over.”

Finally, someone was taking her seriously!

“Awwww, fine.” XY pulled out his phone and deleted the post. “Happy now, Clooney?”

She huffed, but turned her back before she could say anything she’d regret.

“Excellent work, Chloé.”

She jumped. Kagami was standing right there. How did she always show up like some kind of ninja?

“We will still need to engage our failsafes.” Kagami began typing on her phone. Chloé stood on her tip-toes, looking over her shoulder. She was posting… some selfies with Adrien in a blue wig?

“Hey, I thought no one was supposed to post pictures.” Chloé frowned.

“These will lead Nathalie and Adrien’s bodyguard off our trail. I’ll adjust the lighting to make them appear as if they were taken just now.” She added filters, and the background grew dark. “Now they will believe Adrien is at the juice shop with me.”

“Not bad.” Chloé smirked. “You know, for someone who never lies, you’re awfully good at fooling people.”

“Only when necessary. Adrien’s happiness tonight is my number one priority.”

Kagami’s gaze shifted down to the rink, where Adrien and Ladybug were skating hand-in-hand.

“You’ve done a good job,” Chloé said quietly, leaning against the railing. Over her shoulder she watched Adrien and Ladybug weave figure eights. Even over XY’s blaring music, she could hear their laughter. Two years ago that would have made her jealous.

But it was good to see her oldest friend and her biggest hero make each other happy, even if it was only for one night.

“Come on.” Kagami smiled at her. “No more slacking. Time to learn how to skate.”

Chloé faked annoyance. “Oh, alright. If you insist.”

XXX

Adrien glided like he was in a dream. The soft pressure of Ladybug’s hand in his was the only thing anchoring him to the ground, and even that felt too good to be real.

But she was real. She was here. She cared about Adrien enough to come to his birthday party.

“You didn’t hit your head too hard, did you?” Ladybug giggled.

Oh. He must have been staring at her stupidly again.�� That was how he’d tripped over Marc and crashed the first time.

“I’m fine. It helps that the ground is a built-in ice pack.”

She laughed again. She never laughed at Chat Noir’s jokes this much. Maybe she was just trying not to hurt his feelings on his birthday, but he’d take it.

“Look at that.” She bumped his shoulder with hers. “Looks like Queen Bee could use an ice power-up.”

He laughed as he saw Chloé wobble onto the rink, Kagami steadying her with both hands. He was glad they were both getting along, or at least trying to. Having so many of his friends in one place was the best birthday gift of all.

“I bet she’d love that.” He wished he could use his ice powers too. It would make it easier to avoid slipping and embarrassing himself again.

Not that she’d laughed at him, really. That would be weird to get used to—not that he should get used to it. As soon as he was suited up again, they’d be back to bantering and making fun of each other like normal.

But for now, he savored the feeling of her eyes on his, of the way her brow softened beneath her mask every time he smiled.

(He was smiling a lot.)

“Hey, Adrien! You gonna kiss her yet?”

Adrien’s face caught fire at Kim’s shout. Kim didn’t just say that.

Please tell me he didn’t just say that.

His eyes darted to Ladybug’s. She’d dropped his hand, and her mouth was stammering wordlessly.

He couldn’t blame her. His brain wouldn’t send a coherent thought to his mouth, either.

Kim turned around and started skating backwards. “I’ve got a bet with Alix. She thinks you don’t have the guts, but I believe in you. Don’t let me down, man!”

He promptly crashed into Nino and Alya, and all three of them wiped out. Normally, Adrien would’ve rushed to help his friends up. But right now, he wanted nothing more to melt through the ice.

“Please just—ignore him,” he said quickly, falling back and clinging to the handrail. “I don’t know where he got the idea that—I mean, not that I wouldn’t—er—I’m going to shut up now.”

She laughed hysterically, eyes darting back and forth. Was she already looking for a way to escape?

Gah, and everything had been going so well too! He could almost believe that Ladybug… that she… what, liked him? Just because she was nice to him and laughed at his jokes and held his hand…

“You know,” she said quietly, “I wouldn’t, um, mind if you…”

His heart sped up. It could’ve done backflips in the pauses between her words.

“If I…?” He asked, trying not to sound too eager. She could’ve been about to say anything, after all.

Like maybe she wouldn’t mind if he left her alone forever. Maybe she wouldn’t mind if he faceplanted on the ice like Kim did. Maybe she wouldn’t mind if he locked himself in a tower, never to see the light of day until a fearless ogre came to save him.

She leaned in closer. Her eyes sparkled as bright as the frosty tips of her tiara.

“If you… got me a slice of cake!”

He blinked, pulling back. “O-of course! Um, did you want me to bring it back here, or…?”

“Uh, yeah, sure!” She said. “Er, on second thought, there’s no tables on the rink, haha, and I’ll probably trip even with my powers if I try to eat down here…”

“There’s tables closer to the entrance,” he suggested, still startled by Ladybug’s sudden shift. The smile on her face looked strained.

“S-sounds great!”

Unfortunately, getting out of the rink meant skating past Kim again. He’d finally made it to his feet with Nino and Alya’s help. Alix sped past, blowing a raspberry at him.

“Just don’t make eye contact and we might be fine,” he said under his breath.

...Or not.

“Yo, Ladybug! How’s my little monkey dude doing?”

Ladybug groaned. “That’s my luck.”

“I thought Chat Noir was supposed to be the one with bad luck?” Adrien joked right before Kim got close enough to sling an arm around Ladybug’s shoulder.

“Hey, King Monkey.” She grimaced. “Xuppu’s doing fine. But, um, Adrien and I were just about to get some cake, so…”

“Aww, come on! I bet my boy Adrien tastes better than some kind of fruitcake. Who even thought of putting fruit and cake together? Gross.” Kim stuck out his tongue.

Plagg was shaking with laughter inside of Adrien’s borrowed hoodie. Couldn’t the kwami Just Cataclysm him and put him out of his misery?

“It’s passionfruit cake,” he corrected on principle. “And Marinette made it, so it’s going to be amazing.”

For some reason, Ladybug’s face only got more red at that. “Right, amazing! Definitely better than kissing Adrien, ha! Ha ha ha…”

Ouch. Now that hurt worse than a Cataclysm.

Kim winced in sympathy before patting Adrien’s shoulder. “Sorry, buddy. I tried.”

“Please stop trying,” he whined.

He and Ladybug finally escaped Kim. Adrien glanced over his shoulder, and saw Nino flashing him a comforting grin. Alya had dropped her head in her hands.

Me too, Alya. Me too.

XXX

“Lesson’s over,” Chloé said while pulling her phone from her pocket. She didn’t slip, even without holding onto the handrail. Despite her attitude, she was implementing Kagami’s lessons well.

“The student doesn’t decide the length of the lesson.” She crossed her arms.

“She does when she has bad news.” Chloé scowled. “Max just texted. That tracker you and Nino put on the Gorilla's car? It’s going off.”

She held up her screen, which showed a map of the streets near their location. A red skull icon flashed towards the ice rink. Not good. Adrien hadn’t even gotten the chance to eat his cake yet.

“We’ll have to deploy the contingency plan.”

“I thought you already—”

“The other contingency plan.”

Kagami grabbed Chloé’s hand and skated towards the exit.

It was time to find Wayhem.

XXX

Marinette’s pulse pounded in her ears. Adrien was still holding her hand, even after Kim had come along and… well, been Kim. But she could take it. She was cool. She was confident. She knew Adrien had a crush on her!

And yet she was still too much of a coward to kiss him.

What if Nino and Kagami were wrong? Granted, Nino knew Adrien better than anyone, and Kagami had probably never been wrong in her life.

But still.

“I hope you like passionfruit.” Adrien rubbed the back of his neck before cutting her a slice of the three-tiered cake. It had taken her two days to fine-tune the recipe, not including the full afternoon she’d spent adding details with icing. It was a pale shade of pinky-orange, dotted around the edges with rosettes of spring green. Just like his eyes.

“Don’t worry, I love it!” she said. It was a bit of an exaggeration, but she had gained a taste for it after eating one passionfruit macaron a week for the past two years. “You’re lucky Chat Noir isn’t here. He’d finish off this whole cake as soon as your back was turned.”

Adrien laughed. “He’s got good taste, then.”

It was too bad Marinette didn’t know Chat Noir’s birthday. Passionfruit was his favorite favor, too; she could reuse the recipe.

They took their cake and some plastic forks and settled down at a table. She sat across from him, but the table was small enough for her knees to bump his underneath. She’d dismissed her ice transformation, so she didn’t have to worry about stabbing his feet with her blades.

“Wow,” Adrien said through his first bite. “I knew this cake was going to be good, but this is—I’ve never tasted anything like it!”

“Really?” She grinned. If he was saying that to Ladybug, then he wasn’t just saying it to be nice. He really liked her cake!

“Really. I shouldn’t be so surprised, though. Marinette’s amazing at everything. She’s designed album covers for Jagged Stone, and won the student Ultimate Mecha Strike Tournament, and even impressed my father.” He sighed wistfully. “It’s too bad she couldn’t make it. I really wanted to thank her.”

Her heart fluttered like a butterfly on steroids.

“I—I’m sure she wanted to be here too,” she said. Should she find a way to sneak off and detransform? Would Adrien have been happier if she’d come as herself? “And I’m sure, if she were here… she’d want to thank you. For being such a good friend.”

He stared at her with soft eyes. A bit of icing still clung to his bottom lip. She tore her gaze away.

You heard what he told Kim. He doesn’t want to kiss you!

Wait. That was what she told Kim. After she’d panicked and blabbered something stupid by reflex. Why had she said that? She did want to kiss Adrien! Now he was going to think that she hated him and probably hate the birthday present she’d brought and—

“Ladybug?” Adrien’s voice finally snapped her out of her spiral. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Huh? Why wouldn’t I be?” She grinned too wide.

He glanced down at her plate. Her fork was stabbed into the thin styrofoam. That wasn’t the only thing she’d stabbed, apparently.

“You, um. Spaced out and carved a broken heart into your cake. Unless it’s supposed to be an upside-down spade…?”

She hurriedly shoved forkfuls of cake into her mouth. Ugh, she was a mess without Alya here to help her keep cool. How would Alya feel about getting her miraculous back for the sole purpose of wingmanning?

It probably wouldn’t work. There wasn’t an illusion strong enough to cover up Marinette’s spazzing.

She swallowed her cake. “I’m sorry, Adrien. I just got distracted for a second. What were you saying?”

“I was just talking about Marinette… you two are friends, right?”

“Friends? What—what makes you say that?” She blinked.

“She helped you fight the Evillustrator and Kwamibuster. I guess I just assumed, but—”

“Wait.” Marinette dropped the fork back to her plate. For once, her mind whirled for a reason other than proximity to Adrien. “You—how do you know Marinette helped with Kwamibuster?”

Had Chat Noir gone around blabbing about Multimouse to everyone? No, there’d never been a trace of her on the Ladyblog. And Chat wouldn’t reveal heroes’ identities like that, even if she’d already told him that “Multimouse” couldn’t hold a miraculous again.

“Um… because, she… told me?” Adrien shrugged. A tentative smile graced his lips.

Her brow creased. “No, she didn’t.”

This didn’t make any sense. How did Adrien really know, and why would he lie about it?

Unless—?

Before she could follow that train of thought, Chloé’s hands slammed down on their table.

“Sorry to interrupt, but you two need to go. We’ve got company.”

“What?” Marinette blinked. “Is there an akuma? I’ll—”

She shook her head. “Worse. Kagami’s backups failed. Nathalie’s here.”

“What?” Adrien stood, nearly kicking Marinette’s shin in his haste to get up. “I have to stop her before she tries to have Nino arrested again!”

Marinette grimaced. Yeah, Adrien’s sixteenth birthday party hadn’t exactly worked out. But she wasn’t about to let this one get ruined, too.

“No way, Adrikins.” Chloé blocked his path. “Kagami’s handling her. She told me to make sure you get out before you’re grounded for life.”

“But—!”

“Ladybug, I know you’re smart.” Chloé turned to her before he could protest. “Take him out the window before he pulls one of his little self-sacrificing stunts again.”

Self-sacrificing. That would be like Adrien.

(It would also be like a certain partner of hers, who also liked passionfruit, knew about Multimouse, and had a crush on Ladybug.)

“I can’t just leave you—!”

Marinette stood and wrapped an arm tightly around his waist. He cut off, blushing at their proximity.

“You heard Queen Bee.” She winked at Chloé, who smiled. “Let’s trust your friends. And trust me, too. I’ve got a surprise for you.”

He looked down into her eyes, then hesitated as if about to ask something.

“Whatever, just take your surprise out there!” Chloé pushed them away from the tables.

“Right. Hold onto me,” Marinette told Adrien before grabbing her yo-yo.

“You don’t need to tell me twice,” he mumbled into her hair, his arms firm around her shoulders.

This is fine, she told herself while trying not to melt into an ecstatic puddle. Then she cast out her yo-yo and swung through the distant window.

She and Adrien had a lot to talk about.

#mirauclous ladybug #fic tag #chloe bourgeois #chloe #luka #xy #luxy #kagami tsurugi #kagami #ladrien #kim #hopefully thats enough tags for you to decide if you want to read it or not lol #tali writes #what an ice surprise

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soveryanon · 5 years ago

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Reviewing time for MAG162!

- I was feeling The Lack Of Tim (And Sasha) in season 4, the lack of mourning and/or plain… things making me feel that these characters had been in the series before? And I am spoiled rotten by this season so far <3

More duos, more… dead people. MAG161 had the birthday party, which, at least, featured Elias (who is still (?) sadly around somewhere, alive and kicking) and Jon&Martin, but overall, so many dead people: Tim&Sasha amongst the group of MAG161 and starring for themselves in MAG162, Gertrude&Leitner in MAG161, Gertrude&Gerry in MAG162. Gertrude was the only character to die-die before the start of the show, Gerry being an intermediary case – we’ve lost so many people? Sasha, Leitner, Gerry-as-the-memory-in-the-book, Tim… I don’t know if we’ll get many more tapes with glimpses from the past, under-Jon’s-radar moments, but I really appreciated what we got to begin the season with? It’s indeed anchoring, a reminder of what has been lost, what led to this?

(Jon mentioned “a few of them” tapes in MAG161, so there could be more, or no, and I’d be fine with it! But if more: Agnes? Gertrude&og!Elias? Gertrude&James Wright? Gertrude&Elias just after Jonah had taken over his body, since Gertrude mentioned this is when she understood what was up? Gertrude&Adelard, if they’ve found the right VA since the Q&A? Gertrude&Jan Kilbride about The Vast and The Buried, since she had apparently interrupted his written statement? Gertrude&Emma? Gertrude&Jon, since we know that Jon had met her? Elias&Jon, when Jon was hired at the Institute or offered the Head Archivist position? Elias&Martin for roughly the same? Sasha&Melanie’s discussion about haunted pubs? Melanie&Tim, since Elias had mentioned that they had been talking in season 3?)

- It… was only the second time we were hearing Gerry, but it was the first time we were hearing him caught on tape while he was… still alive. There was no reverse-echo to his sppech. He was there! The real Gerry when he was alive… ;_;

We more or less know when Gertrude&Gerry’s scene happened given that their collaboration was short-lived (ha): Mary gave Gertrude Eric’s page on the 3rd of July 2008 (MAG062); Gertrude used the page on the 21st of July 2008 (MAG154), promising that she would look after Gerry… which she proceeded to not do. Mary bound herself to the book in late September 2008 (MAG004), then proceeded to haunt Gerry for five years before Gertrude made contact and freed him from Mary (MAG111), marking the beginning of their collaboration. Gerry was still alive by the 9th of October 2014 (MAG137), but would die soon after during their trip in America.

(MAG062) GERTRUDE: And do you have any proof of this? Your… “magic book”. MARY: Yeah. [PAPER RUSTLING] You can keep this page. I made sure it was in English. GERTRUDE: Go– Who… who is it? MARY: A surprise, dear. Just make sure you’re alone when you read it.

(MAG154) ERIC: Fine! I… I want two things. GERTRUDE: I’m listening. ERIC: I want you to find my son. If Mary is… if she’s gone, or worse… I want you to make sure he’s alright. GERTRUDE: [HUFF] I’m not exactly a mother figure. ERIC: You could hardly do worse than her. GERTRUDE: Fine. But I don’t know what growing up with Mary has done to him. If he’s… gone rotten, I can’t promise anything. ERIC: I understand. GERTRUDE: I suppose he might be useful. ERIC: Oh, sentimental as ever.

(MAG004, Dominic Swain) “Typing in their names I don’t know what sort of thing it was that I expected to find, but it certainly wasn’t a news article from 2008 about Mary Keay’s murder. Police had broken in late September […].”

(MAG111) GERRY: For the next five years she haunted my life. I did what she asked, but whenever her form faded for a few days, I would take what little revenge I could: I burned books, I covered leads. I occasionally fled to somewhere I thought it’d be hard for her to follow. In the end it was Gertrude who saved me. She came to me when I was desperate, nowhere to go, and she offered to help. […] I think you know the rest. I joined Gertrude’s work for a few years. Didn’t realise how ill I was until it finally caught up with me. Then I died.

(MAG137) GERTRUDE: We still have Dekker’s back-up plan, of course, but… it’s very risky. To be sure, I–I think the detonation would need to happen from within The Unknowing, while it was going on. Gerard may have a connection to The Eye, but I’m not convinced it will be enough. And I will admit I’ve grown… fond of the boy. I wonder, if I told him about Eric – whether he’d follow in his father’s footsteps. Still, that’s not like it kept Eric safe in The End.

Which means this scene happened in 2013–2014.

It’s so weird to think that… since he had been working at the Institute since at least 2012 (maybe 2011), Jon was inside of the building around the time of Gertrude&Gerry’s discussion? He was so close to that world, so close to Gerry?

(Sadly:

(MAG162) GERTRUDE: Eh! [INHALE] You can probably burn it in the back courtyard, if you’re careful. GERRY: Yeah, will do! GERTRUDE: And for goodness’s sake, make sure no one sees you. The last thing we need is a letter to Elias about book-burnings. GERRY: Look, if you have somewhere better to burn these books, then–

… no meet-cute possible in the courtyard while Gerry was burning a book and Jon was there on a smoke break, since Jon had stopped smoking roughly at the time his grandmother died and he joined the Institute. Unless Jon bullshitted about that and kept telling himself and everyone that he had been quit for those five years, while he was actually still smoking a pack or two every week.

But gosh, Jon was probably sneaking his cigarettes in that same courtyard during season 2? It’s probably where he went while Leitner was being pipe-murdered? And Gertrude’s comment… implies that the Institute has neighbours, who could complain about shady things to Elias, I’m love it. They probably saw Jon at his worst in the same courtyard Gerry was regularly burning stuff. Am Emotions.)

- I think just hearing Gerry is doomed to make you feel hopeful about things, because, YES, he died, no, he wasn’t perfect, but he was also one of the most positive characters we encountered in the series, saving a few random people in early statements or begrudgingly giving them tips? So hearing him alive and inquiring and still kicking is Pure Serotonin.

He was hilarious in MAG111 (“I’m a BOOK.” “Dead serious.”), I’m having Feelings again with:

(MAG162) GERTRUDE: They might even stop death entirely, deny us the one last escape; keeping us… alive and afraid – forever. [SILENCE] GERRY: [DEFLATING SIGH] … And taxes? GERTRUDE: Eh! Taxes, I imagine, will continue.

Press F to pay respect to Elias Bouchard, who might still have to pay taxes during the apocalypse.

- I’m crying a bit about Gertrude&Gerry’s exchange because:

(MAG162) GERTRUDE: Wait. Surely, you didn’t bring it here?! GERRY: Well, yeah – I, uh… GERTRUDE: Gerard! We’ve talked about this. Bringing unvetted artefacts or books into the Archive is incredibly dangerous…! GERRY: It’s locked away! GERTRUDE: And I’m sure the lock is very sturdy. But that doesn’t stop it being an unnecessary risk. GERRY: … Yeah, I’m sorry… GERTRUDE: This is exactly the sort of thing that will get you killed. GERRY: I said I was sorry! [SILENCE] GERTRUDE: [SIGH] Then, we’ll say no more about it. [FLIPPING OF PAPERS] I don’t enjoy being hard on you, but I really would rather you stayed broadly intact.

1°) … Gerry shrinking when scolded is a remnant of Mary, uh……………………

2°) Yeaaaaah, Gertrude had mentioned not being a “mother figure” to Eric (MAG154: “I’m not exactly a mother figure.” “You could hardly do worse than her.”)… And Gertrude isn’t, indeed, but it was nearly impossible for Gerry to not feel that she was a bit like Mary, uh? Gerry had acknowledged it to Jon:

(MAG111) ARCHIVIST: Kind of sounds like you didn’t… trust her. GERRY: Yeah, I didn’t. I wanted to, I really did, but it was always the work. Sometimes she just reminded me of my mum. … Did you ever meet her, my mum?

3°) Gerry’s casual mix of respect and irreverence to Gertrude was… reminiscent of Eric’s snark towards her ;_; Gosh, Gerry!!! You took after your dad…

(MAG154) GERTRUDE: Fine. But I don’t know what growing up with Mary has done to him. If he’s… gone rotten, I can’t promise anything. ERIC: I understand. GERTRUDE: I suppose he might be useful. ERIC: Oh, sentimental as ever.

(MAG162) GERRY: I’m touched! You’re going soft in your old age. GERTRUDE: Hm! You are, occasionally, useful. Despite your foolishness. GERRY: Flatterer.

Down to the little bit of reminding Gertrude of her age…

(MAG154) GERTRUDE: Well, it’s… good to see you, I suppose. ERIC: You too. … You got old. GERTRUDE: Better than being dead. ERIC: [HUFF] Fair enough.

(MAG162) GERTRUDE: I rather hope I would have found them by now. I like to think I’m not a complete incompetent. GERRY: Until dementia hits~ GERTRUDE: Given my choice to confide in you, I rather suspect it already has. [FLIPPING OF PAPER] Go burn your book.

I love that small domesticity/casualness? Gertrude had admitted that she had grown “rather fond” of “Gerard” in MAG137 (and she called him “Gerard” still in MAG162: so no, Gerry never regarded her as a friend like he did with Jon), and we could feel it? She was firm and scolding, yet allowing them to talk, explaining how she was proceeding to him, what she thought would happen with a successful apocalypse, warning him against tying himself to the Institute – and yet, not being entirely honest with him, hiding the tunnels&Leitner from him, and… not even telling him about Eric’s page (Gerry had mentioned in MAG111 that he had hoped to find his father’s page in the book, but that there wasn’t any… so he didn’t know that there used to be one but that it had been given to Gertrude, uh?).

It also breaks me a bit how… youthful Gerry sounded? Bantering and impertinent, bold and daring (taking a look into Gertrude’s stuff behind her back!), a bit laid-back, a bit insecure (“What happens if we fail?”), and asking Gertrude for answers that he couldn’t provide, couldn’t fathom, as if she had the infinite knowledge… By this time, Gerry was almost or around 30, I think? And yet he still sounds like an adolescent, and it makes so much sense given how he grew up…

4°) The awkward offer of burning more stuff for Gertrude…

(MAG162) GERRY: You, uh… need anything else burning? GERTRUDE: No, no…! Not right now. [INHALE] I think I’m alright, thank you for the offer.

You polite kid…

5°) I wonder if:

(MAG162) GERRY: What happens if we fail? [FLIPPING OF PAPER] [WOOD CREAKS] GERTRUDE: In… what sense? GERRY: If we miss a ritual, you know. If one of them works. GERTRUDE: Been losing sleep, have you? GERRY: Mh, something like that.

The possible lack of sleep/tiredness/concerns might have been partially linked to Gerry’s cancer developing without him noticing – but his body beginning to let him down a bit…

- I’m laughing hard that the possibility of Gerry getting tied to the Institute was raised:

(MAG162) GERRY: So, do I get to hear them? GERTRUDE: Perhaps. If you live long enough. But somehow I doubt Elias would look favourably on your application. And if I’m being quite honest… GERRY: Yeah – I know, I know. A–and I don’t want your job. GERTRUDE: Believe me, the perks aren’t worth the shackles.

Since… oh boy, Elias really didn’t like this effing family, uh.

(MAG062) GERTRUDE: Why are you here? MARY: To make my statement, of course. I know the Institute and me haven’t always seen eye to eye, as it were, but I thought it was the least I could do. […] Well, they don’t understand up there. They don’t know what this place is. You do, though, don’t you? We’re on the same side, really, even if Elias disagrees. GERTRUDE: If you say so.

(MAG158) ELIAS: And how exactly were you planning on achieving that while you’re still bound to the… ha. Oh, I see. Very clever. [CHUCKLE] I thought Eric was the only one to figure that little morsel out.

Gerry was the son of Friggin’ Mary Keay, and of Eric-The-One-That-Got-Away. No wonder that Elias would not “look favourably” on his application.

… And it’s getting even more hysterical when remembering that Gerry is descended from the VON CLOSEN, ALBRECHT’S FAMILY. ALBRECHT WHOM JONAH HAD SCREWED OVER.

(With the suspicious things about the genealogy: Mary didn’t descend from Albrecht, but from Wilhelm, Albrecht’s nephew… officially. Because there is still the matter that Carla&Albrecht couldn’t have any children in 1816 (MAG023), but Albrecht had two sons by 1831 (MAG127), of age to go to boarding school. Which means they were roughly conceived after MAG023’s events, when Jonah visited to get the books. While Carla hadn’t been able to have any children until then. What I mean is, there is still a little small possibility that Albrecht’s children were adopted by Wilhelm’s branch after his death, and that Gerry is a direct descendant of Albrecht…………… or of Jonah. Because the “can’t have children with my wife, but she got pregnant around the time you visited” is incredibly suspicious. And because it makes me laugh and laugh and laugh to think that Gerry could be Jonah’s biological descendant, the AWKWARDNESS.)

- What Leitner was it about, and what powers?

(MAG162) GERRY: Yeah, yeah. [FLIPPING OF PAPERS] … So, what’s the verdict? GERTRUDE: Hm? GERRY: On The Travels! GERTRUDE: Oh. [RUSTLING OF PAPER] Burn it, I think. You said Mr Hampton was dead? GERRY: Yup! And not peacefully. GERTRUDE: But you hadn’t seen its powers? GERRY: Not directly. GERTRUDE: Well… Given the themes of the original, I doubt it has anything that would be worth the danger.

Gulliver’s? Marco Polo’s? Spiral, Lonely, Vast things?

- Given that Gertrude raised the danger of bringing items to the Archives:

(MAG162) GERTRUDE: Gerard! We’ve talked about this. Bringing unvetted artefacts or books into the Archive is incredibly dangerous…! GERRY: It’s locked away! GERTRUDE: And I’m sure the lock is very sturdy. But that doesn’t stop it being an unnecessary risk.

I still wonder about how they proceed in Artefact Storage? Sasha said it was bad, we know that the original Elias started there, the calliope was stored there (until it was stolen), Jon gave them the Coffin during season 4… what means of protection do they use?

(Accidents still happen, if Salesa’s letter from MAG115 is any indication, but it’s impressive that the Institute is still standing while containing so many dangerous things?)

- Gotta love how Gertrude’s arson streak has been put to the foreground this season:

(MAG161) GERTRUDE: Paper burns well. [GURGLING LIQUID] Petrol burns… better. LEITNER: Aha! I always forget about your pyromaniac streak. GERTRUDE: Mm. Remind me to tell you about Agnes, sometime…!

(MAG162) GERRY: And when in doubt… GERTRUDE: Well, quite. [FLIPPING OF PAPER] GERRY: Can I use your wastepaper bin? […] GERTRUDE: You can probably burn it in the back courtyard, if you’re careful. GERRY: Yeah, will do! GERTRUDE: And for goodness’s sake, make sure no one sees you. The last thing we need is a letter to Elias about book-burnings. […] GERRY: You, uh… need anything else burning?

And Gerry didn’t know what she had in store for The Stranger (the plastic explosive) but had described how she had looked while thinking about it and:

(MAG111) ARCHIVIST: But you don’t know what it is? GERRY: No. When I asked her she said she’d show me when we got back to London. Mind you, she had this weird look in her eyes, like it was some kind of a joke. ARCHIVIST: I mean… it wasn’t, w–was it? A–A joke. GERRY: I don’t think so. Gertrude didn’t make jokes.

Gerry is the same as Martin when it comes to Just Little Archivist Jokes, uh.

- Regarding how Gerry was planning to burn his book, would it involve the lighter with the Eye that was described in MAG012?

(MAG012, Lesere Saraki) “the younger man had only a Zippo lighter with an eye design on it similar to the one tattooed all over him and an old passport that identified him as Gerard Keay.”

We still don’t know what happened to that one… Plus, Gerry had lost a few items around that time too, and we never learned if they had been destroyed in his fight against Diego Molina nor what they were supposed to do:

(MAG012, Lesere Saraki) “After a few seconds of awkward silence, Gerard spoke. He asked me if the paramedics had brought any items in with them. Specifically, he was after a small book bound in red leather and a brass pendant he had been wearing. He didn’t say what design had been on the pendant but I guessed it had been an eye. I told him that neither of those things had been brought in with him, and he was quiet for a long time.”

(The book was Diego’s, we know from Basira. Regarding the pendant, I’m still wondering if it was a gift from Eric, but it was never mentioned again…)

- NO WONDER that Jon starts rewinding the tape to listen again and again to Gertrude saying that she didn’t think there was a way to revert an apocalypse…

(MAG162) GERRY: Could it be undone? [SILENCE] [WOOD CREAKS] GERTRUDE: [SIGH] … No. I don’t think so. Once an entity… fully manifested, I doubt it would be keen to relinquish its grip on realit– [CLICK.] [APOCALYPSE SOUNDSCAPING] [FIREPLACE CRACKLING IN THE BACKGROUND] [WOODEN CREAKING SOUND] [TAPE IS REWOUND] [CLICK–] GERTRUDE: … No. I don’t think so. Once an– [CLICK.] [APOCALYPSE SOUNDSCAPING] [FIREPLACE CRACKLING IN THE BACKGROUND] [TAPE IS REWOUND] [CLICK–] GERTRUDE: No. I don’t think so. [CLICK.] [APOCALYPSE SOUNDSCAPING] [FIREPLACE CRACKLING IN THE BACKGROUND] [TAPE IS REWOUND] [CLICK–] GERTRUDE: I don’t think so. [CLICK.] [APOCALYPSE SOUNDSCAPING] [FIREPLACE CRACKLING IN THE BACKGROUND] [LONG WOODEN CREAKING SOUND] [CLICK–] GERTRUDE: Once an entity… fully manifested, I doubt it would be keen to relinquish its grip on reality. And as for those unlucky enough to survive its rule… I don’t think they would be in a state to do anything about it.

[…] MARTIN: 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? ARCHIVIST: [LONG INHALE] Gertrude didn’t think so. [WOODEN CREAKING SOUND] MARTIN: … Right. ARCHIVIST: [SOFT] But she’s dead. [FIRMER] Let’s find out for ourselves.

… Since she had just lied through her teeth to Gerry about the tunnels.

(MAG162) GERRY: Look, if you have somewhere better to burn these books, then– GERTRUDE: Of course, Gerard…! I just happened not to mention the network of sinister tunnels that snake beneath the Archive, where I keep all my darkest secrets…! GERRY: I mean, you joke, but there could be. It’s that kind of place! GERTRUDE: I rather hope I would have found them by now. I like to think I’m not a complete incompetent. GERRY: Until dementia hits~ GERTRUDE: Given my choice to confide in you, I rather suspect it already has.

The scene happened in 2013-2014. However, she was already collaborating with Leitner (who had been using the tunnels following the destruction of his library) since around 2011, and we know that she did burn books down there at some point:

(MAG080) ARCHIVIST: And why was Gertrude helping you? LEITNER: Aside from my knowledge about the books? I think she was lonely. I didn’t meet her until about six years ago, after she’d lost the last of her own assistants. She would mention them sometimes. I believe she missed having someone to talk to on occasion.

(MAG004, Dominic Swain) “The only thing I found that looked even remotely relevant was a listing on eBay from 2007. The auction was titled “Key of Solomon 1863 owned by MacGregor Mathers and Jurgen Leitner” and had been won for just over £1200 by a deactivated user – grbookworm1818.”

(MAG080) ARCHIVIST: Like The Key of Solomon? LEITNER: That one was a mistake. I thought that, in the tunnels, there might be the stability to examine it properly, learn something of the forces arrayed against us. But it went wrong. We had to destroy it. I should have known, really. It was one of the few volumes that contained elements of several different powers.

(MAG070) ARCHIVIST: But, shortly after I started exploring the second level, I found something. It was a room, empty except for three wooden chairs. It looked like there had previously been more, but they had been smashed. Based on the scorch marks in the corner, I think I know what they were used for. The ashes were old, impossible to tell what they might have been before they were burned, except for the small scraps of old paper dotted around the floor. I think someone tore up a book and then burned it. There was only one scrap large enough to decipher anything legible: “They have for adversaries the Satariel, or concealers, the Demons of absurdity, of intellectual inertia, and of Mystery.” That answers the question of what happened to the copy of The Key of Solomon that Gertrude bought. But if she only bought it to destroy it, why down there? There seemed no especial significance to the room, except that it contained some old wooden furniture.

(We don’t know if she had burned books down there before Gerry’s suggestion… but eh, it’s Gertrude, she just LIED TO HIS FACE about the tunnels under the Institute, it was probably a habit already.)

It makes sense for Gerry to think tunnels sound reasonable, since he had experience with them (he knew things about Smirke, he had been there during the rediscovery of the tunnels under Pall Mall in MAG035); it makes sense for Gertrude to prevent Leitner and Gerry from interacting, since Gerry had a Grudge (and beat him up without being convinced that it was him)… I’m just laughing so hard again that GERTRUDE did Gertrude things and just lied so blatantly and fiercely.

It sounds, after the rewinding, like Jon thinks that she was being truthful about her opinions on the impossibility of reversing the apocalypse, given what he told Martin afterwards – was he trying to use his powers to detect a lie? Personally, I’m not convinced that Gertrude thought that it couldn’t be undone, or that she didn’t have any idea for a back-up plan if necessary, since… anyway, she was shown lying. And even Elias seemed to think that she might have an idea against The Dark:

(MAG160, Jonah Magnus) “When I saw that she was making no preparations whatsoever to stop it, I realised she was putting into practice a theory – and one she couldn’t afford to be wrong. She was going to wait, and see if the unopposed ritual succeeded, or if it collapsed under its own strain, as mine had all those years ago. Knowing Gertrude, I’m sure she had a backup plan if she had miscalculated; but she had not. The ritual failed.”

(MAG161) GERTRUDE: If my guess is right, the Church’s ritual should be collapsing at any time now, so… immediately. LEITNER: And if you’re wrong? GERTRUDE: Then a bit of gas will be the least of our worries.

So they could still find something left shortly before her death, about the seed of an idea. Maybe not! I’d be fully satisfied if the tonality of the end of MAG162 is to be taken this way: that no, Gertrude didn’t think there was a way, but that Jon&Martin are leaving her shadow and pushing further, and will find something, since they are still alive and can still discover and invent things. It might not be what they expect, it might make things worse; it will still be them trying and doing something that Gertrude couldn’t have done.

- … Gertrude made excellent guesses as to how the apocalypse would probably unravel, since it’s… what Jon&Martin seem to be experiencing:

(MAG162) GERTRUDE: … If we are lucky, then that failure will also mean our deaths. GERRY: You don’t think they can reach us after death? GERTRUDE: I suppose that depends on your religious beliefs. [WOOD CREAKS] Personally, I suspect death puts us beyond their power; either because we find ourselves in… some kind of afterlife, or because we simply… “cease to be”. GERRY: … Yeah, I guess. GERTRUDE: And I am certain that either scenario is preferable to lingering in a world they control. [INHALE] They’re… already able to circumvent physics, and suspend natural laws. If one were to – genuinely – press through, I suspect they would rewrite them wholesale; most likely making them… utterly incomprehensible to any survivors. They, they might still need us human enough to be afraid, but beyond that… Let’s just surmise that petty rules like space or time would be unlikely to factor into the proceedings. They might even stop death entirely, deny us the one last escape; keeping us… alive and afraid – forever. […] Once an entity… fully manifested, I doubt it would be keen to relinquish its grip on reality. And as for those unlucky enough to survive its rule… I don’t think they would be in a state to do anything about it.

1°) Time and space have indeed been affected (the statement number cases are still a succession of #, the cabin stopped being neutral, Martin’s impression of Jon about the maps highlighted that space isn’t objective anymore either); humans are indeed kept alive without needing to eat, people outside seem to not be dying:

(Season 5 trailer) MARTIN: How are you feeling today? ARCHIVIST: [LONG INHALE] Define… “today”. [CREAKING SOUND] MARTIN: “How are you feeling in general”, then? ARCHIVIST: … Unchanged. [PAUSE] I don’t know if it’ll ever change again…! [MIRTHLESS CHUCKLE]

(MAG161) MARTIN: You should get some sleep. [CREAKING SOUND] ARCHIVIST: I… [SIGH] can’t. I–I–I can’t, I–I don’t think I do anymore… “Sleep”. [EXHALE] How long’s it been, now? MARTIN: I don’t know. It’s not like there are days to count anymore. All the clocks have stopped, and… [DISTANT HOWL] ARCHIVIST: Well, I haven’t yet. I get… tired, but it doesn’t feel the same. [WOODEN CREAKING SOUND] Probably for the best. Sleep doesn’t look… pleasant. MARTIN: Nnno, it’s… it’s not. […] What about food? ARCHIVIST: What about it? When’s the last time you thought to eat, o–or even felt hungry? MARTIN: [FAINT] What…? Wha… Uh… I don’t know. ARCHIVIST: No. Whatever is sustaining us now doesn’t need us to eat. MARTIN: That… that can’t be possible– ARCHIVIST: It’s a new world, Martin, the natural laws are whatever they want them to be. And I suspect they don’t much care to keep humanity fed and watered.

(MAG162) ARCHIVIST: “The land outside is warped and twisted by the touch of those things that feed on your suffering, and behind those rough wooden planks, [WOODEN CREAKING SOUND] it seems they cannot reach you. […] If you had need to eat, no doubt there would be food; if you had need to sleep, no doubt the beds would be welcoming. [WOODEN CREAKING SOUND] But you have need of neither […] Heavy drops fall, ice-cold and laced with salt; tears of voyeuristic delight from The Eyes that see and drink in all – it sinks into the dry cracked ground, and from the mud faces struggle to push themselves free and breathe. They cannot breach the surface, as the slick soil flows down their throats. […] Throw another log on the fire and curl up close. There are always more logs for the fire here.” […] MARTIN: And, I found some rope in the attic, and I packed that with the maps. ARCHIVIST: [CHUCKLING] Uh, Martin, I… MARTIN: No, no; I, I know what you’re going to say. [RUMMAGING] “What good are maps when the very Earth has…” and blah blah blah… ARCHIVIST: W– Uh, yes– MARTIN: But I’ve, I’ve packed them anyway because you never know. ARCHIVIST: Martin, I… MARTIN: I, I actually, eh! I actually found a stash of tea under the kitchen sink– ARCHIVIST: [FOND CHUCKLE] MARTIN: I–I realise, we don’t need to eat or – whatever, but, you know, that doesn’t mean that we won’t… ARCHIVIST: Yes – yes, yes…! It’s… alright. Alright.

The only thing Gertrude doesn’t seem to have factored in is about the Archivist themselves (“making [the law of physics]… utterly incomprehensible to any survivors. […] as for those unlucky enough to survive its rule… I don’t think they would be in a state to do anything about it.”): Jon was able to see through the thing-that-wasn’t-tea’s deceit in the trailer, and through the cabin’s in this episode – deconstructing the way the cabin was functioning… to free himself from its influence. That was a very Beholding thing, matching Jane Prentiss’s rant about The Eye (MAG032: “I see now why the hive hates you. You can see it and log it and note its every detail but you can never understand it. You rob it of its fear even though your weak words have no right to do so.”). There is at least one person who has the potential “to do [something] about it”, and probably more (what about Georgie? What about plain mundane non-main characters?).

- OUFFTTT, once again, that Gertrude was very conscious that the Powers subject people to a fate worse than death… and would still make the choice of binding Gerry to the book, even though she also knew from Eric that it was an awful state of (not-)being.

(MAG154) GERTRUDE: … What’s it like? Being… bound to the book. ERIC: I don’t know how to describe it…! Never was great with words. Bad. It feels… bad. All the time. I know that I’m not really “Eric”, I’m just a… memory someone wrote down. It hurts, most of the time. I don’t like it.

(MAG111) GERRY: It hurts. Being like this. And it’s not like any pain you can feel when you’re alive. It’s… it hurts to exist. To be dead and still here.

The big irony that Gerry should have died “naturally”, and was ready to cease to exist… and that Gertrude, of all people, forbade him to do so. Technically, there is still the mystery of why… Gertrude did it and left him behind in America, as Gerry pointed out:

(MAG111) GERRY: I think… I think I finally understand why she brought me back. I just don’t understand why she left me behind.

Was it to leave a trail of breadcrumbs for her successor? Was she fearing that, if she were to die (by Elias’s hand or someone else’s), Elias would get his hands on the page and destroy it if it was kept at the Institute? (And why did Gertrude allow Gerry so close to her while he was covered in eyes? She knew about Jonah’s trick already (Eric knew about it from when they were working together), and Elias knew that Gerry&Gertrude had worked together (as he was keeping MAG102’s statement and gave it to Jon only when Jon revealed that he now “knew” about their collaboration). Gertrude accused Gerry of taking risks, yet she took… so many, with him…)

- With the description of the people buried alive outside of the cabin, and Gerry&Gertrude’s talk about death being denied in the world of fear… that puts The End on the foreground again, too. Does that aspect of the blob of terrors get its fill with the agony of not dying, and with the fear of living without being able to die? Or did it draw the shorter straw in the new world?

- YYYYYYYYAAAYYYY, I was suspecting it but! Finally, confirmation about Gertrude’s use of the tape recorders, when she was and wasn’t using them! Jon had wondered for so long!

(MAG041) ARCHIVIST: Even when the police finally found Gertrude’s body, they took it, chair and all, as well as all the tapes. “Evidence”, they said, and they might be right, though I don’t envy them the task of going through all of them. There must have been hundreds. … No. I suppose in some way I do envy them. They are an insight into my predecessor’s time here; something I desperately want to know more about. Whatever’s on them, it must be important, because… either she chose to hide them down here or… whoever killed her did.

(MAG044) ARCHIVIST: I will admit to some disappointment it doesn’t address any of my more… pressing questions about Gertrude’s tapes. Why did she begin recording them, and why stop? If she’d been doing so right up until her death, she would have likely gotten through much of the archive […].

(MAG087) ARCHIVIST: I had assumed Gertrude had recorded to tape for a while and then stopped, but it seems she was recording them right up until the end. But if they did span decades of working at the Institute, why aren’t there more? And what decided which statements she transferred?

(MAG162) GERTRUDE: [CHUCKLES] Well. You’re not going to find many dark secrets in the stationery cupboard. [DRAWER OR DOOR CLOSES] GERRY: Just the recorded confession of your evil plans, then. [WOOD CREAKS] GERTRUDE: I’d be something of a fool to leave that one in the recorder. GERRY: I’ve never really seen you use it. GERTRUDE: Hm! It’s generally only for those statements I think might be useful to my successor. Or, the occasional interview. GERRY: So, do I get to hear them? GERTRUDE: Perhaps. If you live long enough.

That’s why there were technically so few, and so many of them seemed related to the rituals! It was supposed to be practical, useful information in case she were to die, she was actually much more prepared than Jon had assumed, they were supposed to be heard by her successor! (MAG137: “Anyway. Point is, you can probably discount The Slaughter. It had its chance.”)

- … Squint because, with how Gertrude had lied re:Leitner…

(MAG162) GERTRUDE: [CHUCKLES] Well. You’re not going to find many dark secrets in the stationery cupboard. […] Oh, and… Gerard. GERRY: Hm? [WOOD CREAKING] GERTRUDE: Don’t go rifling through my things in future. It could end… badly, for you.

… It definitely sounds like there was/is something in the stationery cupboard.

- First time we’re hearing Gerry alive, and first time hearing him while discussing with Gertrude… and almost the first time we hear Tim&Sasha together. Technically, they had already been heard together, although for a very brief moment, in MAG039 (when Sasha tackled him to save him), and last episode was the first time we heard them in the same room for more than a few seconds… AND I WOULD HAVE NEVER EXPECTED THEM TO BE HEARD TOGETHER, TALKING TOGETHER, TALKING ABOUT THEMSELVES AND EACH OTHER… ;___;

(Sasha/Tim was already one of my fav ships as a “potential” and “I like pain apparently??” since the end of season 1 and the fact that hey! last time Tim had seen Sasha before she got Not!Them’d, it was because she had saved his life! I’m fine!, I’ve been screaming for a week.)

- Context was apparently when Jon had very recently been promoted to Head Archivist, so second half of 2015 (since MAG123’s statement was handed on August 1st 2015 and Jon had mentioned that it was shortly after Gertrude’s disappearance, without any mention of his own tenure, so… he wasn’t in place by then), apparently shortly before MAG001 and his recordings since… Tim was apparently searching for a tape recorder?

(MAG162) [CLICK–] [RUMMAGING SOUNDS] TIM: [SIGH] SASHA: This it? TIM: Oh, thank God! I thought I was seeing things. SASHA: Glad I could help. TIM: I didn’t know he was actually gonna ask me to get it for him, I just… mentioned it ‘cause he was talking about recording. SASHA: Well, I’m sure he’s waiting…! TIM: Hm, he can wait a bit longer.

Which would put the scene in the storage room, given that Jon had already mentioned a few things about his very first tape recorder:

(SPIDERRRRSSSS.) So psssh, Jon, it wasn’t YOU who found it, but Tim, with Sasha’s help!

(And I’m SOBBING??? That Tim had spotted it first??? And had wanted to record Jon’s birthday party with one??? Although he would grow to hate the tape recorders so much by season 3???)

- I’m sobbing over the fact that there can only be ONE qualified Archives Team member per generation.

(MAG154) ERIC: So when I finished my Master’s in Library Science and saw a vacancy at the Magnus Institute, of all places, I jumped at the chance. The chance to pursue my passion and my career at the same time seemed like too good an opportunity to pass up! It was only an “assistant archivist” position, of course, but that was fine. A good entry position, I’d, “I’d soon move on,” I told myself. [HUFF] Yeah…

(MAG162) TIM: If only there had been someone more qualified…! [STAPLING] SASHA: Tim. TIM: Sasha. [RUSTLING OF PAPER] SASHA: It’s Elias’s decision. […] Mm, Tim… I’ve been in academia for what, ten years now? TIM: Mm. SASHA: I know how this goes! I didn’t get the job. If I kick up a stink, I’ll just get blackballed.

And at the same time, ezusdjezds. Sasha was a Disaster like Jon archiving-wise, uh.

(MAG162) SASHA: Fantastic! [RUSTLING OF PAPER] Good of you to volunteer to help me. TIM: Uh! I, er, didn’t actually… SASHA: Grab a stapler. TIM: [SIGH] … Fine. [STAPLING] What are we doing? [RUSTLING OF PAPER] SASHA: Jon’s been getting frustrated with all the loose statement sheets around. [STAPLING] I’m going box by box, collating and stapling them. And now? So are you.

Sasha STAPLING UNIQUE, ORIGINAL DOCUMENTS, INTRODUCING A NEW MATTER SUBJECTING THEM TO POTENTIAL RUST, and Jon “Put a Post-It on the tapes or something” were the Same Kind Of People.

- If Sasha has been in academia for ten years, it means she is at the very least 28 at this point (if she’s counting her studies as “academia” — even older if not). Tim had worked for five years after his own diploma, before joining the Institute around 2013, so… not canon-canon, but more tiny bits of proof leaning towards the idea that Old Millenial Jon was actually the Archives’ youngest <3

- I randomly love the little detail that Tim would blame Elias’s choice on sexism, because it does make a lot of sense given what he knew, because to his eyes (and Sasha’s), Elias had chosen an underqualified man over a qualified woman?

(MAG162) SASHA: It’s Elias’s decision. TIM: [SIGH] It’s some sexist bullshit, is what it is…! [RUSTLING OF PAPER] SASHA: I mean… probably.

And yet, no, it wasn’t sexism (or not only sexism), since Jonah had previously chosen Gertrude, as James Wright or as his predecessor. But Tim couldn’t know!

- I! Love! That Tim was the one to point out and insist that the situation is unfair to Sasha…

(MAG162) TIM: Look, it should have been you, and you just know if you had called him out, the little weasel would start talking about “traditions” and “the values of our esteemed founder, Jimmy Magma.” […] Ah! I’m serious though. You should say something.

Because it matches with what we saw of him, as someone who was very conscious of what is and isn’t a healthy workplace environment? (Like, yeah, he does make jokes, and there is the Infamous April Fool’s 2016, and Jon’s surprise birthday party! But when things are truly messed up, he points it out.)

(MAG048) ELIAS: Martin and Tim have both approached me. Apparently, you’ve been spying on them. ARCHIVIST: Spying on them…?! Of course not! No, it’s just… I– I’ve been… worried about their mental health following Prentiss’s attack, so I’ve been… keeping a closer eye on them than usual. ELIAS: Tim says you were watching his house. ARCHIVIST: Ah, it, w– that’s just not true. ELIAS: Well, what matters is your team thinks that it could be.

(MAG065) ARCHIVIST: Well, Elias clearly thought that– TIM: Elias should have fired you weeks ago. ARCHIVIST: What?! TIM: After everything you’ve pulled, you should be gone. But no. Instead, we all get to talk about how you’re feeling, because we’re worried about our stalker boss!

It showed that he worked for long (five years) in another company before The Magnus Institute?

- I really really hope that Elias was Watching and grinding his teeth because:

(MAG162) TIM: Look, it should have been you, and you just know if you had called him out, the little weasel would start talking about “traditions” and “the values of our esteemed founder, Jimmy Magma.” SASHA: [LAUGHS] [RUSTLING OF PAPER] TIM: Johnny… Magnum? SASHA: Closer. TIM: Jack Magnet. SASHA: That’s the one!

The lack of respect… Tim, I love you so much…

1°) The way Tim parodied Elias, it sounds like Elias was quite often raving about “traditions” and “the values of our esteemed founder”??? ELIAS………. (“I heard that Jonah Magnus had an eight pack.”)

2°) So, “little weasel” according to Tim and “weird little freak” according to Daisy in MAG082: is Elias… not very tall. (While Peter big–)

3°) I love that TMI Tim from The Magnus Institute (pretended that he?) couldn’t remember the name of the founder. Hey, at least, he didn’t suggest “Jonathan Magnus”.

4°) I LOVE HOW SASHA LAUGHED AND WAS HAVING FUN, TOO!!! Gods, Tim&Sasha were too damn cute together…

- Things that really, really didn’t age well: Tim mentioning murder.

(MAG162) TIM: Ah… yeah. [RUSTLING OF PAPER] … What if we kill him? SASHA: [CHUCKLING] What, Elias? [RUSTLING OF PAPER] TIM: No. Big Boss Sims! Cut the brakes on his office chair, no one would ever know! SASHA: [LAUGHS] TIM: Swap in a poisoned teabag, pin it on Martin – the perfect crime.

(MAG058) TIM: Look, I tried talking to Elias about it, but it doesn’t seem to do any good! MARTIN: He’s just under a lot of pressure. You know how messed up he’s been since Prentiss. TIM: How messed up he’s been?! MARTIN: Of course, I’m sorry – sorry, I didn’t mean that you weren’t, just– TIM: No! Because I didn’t start stalking my co-workers! MARTIN: Maybe try talking to him. TIM: Sure. Like he doesn’t already look at me like I’m a murderer.

(MAG065) ARCHIVIST: I said there’s no need for the attitude; I know things have been difficult, but– TIM: Oh? They have, have they? “Things” have been difficult. You spent a month staring at that footage, double-checking every moment, timing every tea break, looking at me like I somehow staged it – but no, you’re right! Things have been difficult. […] Shut up! Just stop talking. I’m sick of this, I’m sick of you! We didn’t kill Gertrude, and no one wants to kill you, you pompous idiot!

Lucky that this tape didn’t end up in Jon’s hands during season 2, uh… (But at the same time, it had the original Sasha’s voice on it… so same question as in MAG161: who had kept the tapes for so long, and had managed to avoid that Jon would listen to them before he understood what was happening with the Not!Them?)

- Something doesn’t work in Tim’s “Cut the brakes on his office chair”: Jon’s chair scrapes on the floor, we’ve heard it plenty! It doesn’t have wheels! So maybe it was the case back when they were in research? (Or Tim broke it between this recording and MAG001.)

- TIM IS A MAN OF CULTURE!

(MAG162) SASHA: [CHUCKLES] And how do you know that you won’t be the one that gets it? That boy makes a lot of tea. TIM: Oh, it’s okay, I spent the last few years building up an immunity to iocane powder. SASHA: Urgh! TIM: [PROUD SNORT]

And given Sasha’s reaction, she understood the Princess Bride reference!! (… And now that I think about it, their exchange had a bit of the Buttercup-Westley dynamic…)

- I’m not okay I’m very okay, Tim&Sasha… had canonically fucked…

(MAG162) TIM: I can’t believe you’d just abandon our intense [STAPLING] “Will-They-Won’t-They” storyline like that! [RUSTLING OF PAPER] SASHA: Hum… I’m pretty sure we established it’s very much “Won’t-They”. TIM: No-no-no-no. See, we had the ill-advised hook-up; the awkward aftermath; and the gradually rebuilt friendship. [STAPLING] But… that’s all season two stuff. We’ve got like five more seasons before we get the heart-warming epilogue that makes it canon~ [RUSTLING OF PAPER] SASHA: I know it’s hard to hear, mate! But you’re not the love interest. [STAPLING] I think you might be the character they drop after the pilot! TIM: Uh– W–Wow! [RUSTLING OF PAPER] You are vicious today! SASHA: Sorry, Tim! I can’t hear you over all this stapling.

And I LOVE what we’re seeing of their relationship? With Tim joking around and Sasha able to be savage but not cruel either – we could feel that they had that kind of relationship where they can be a bit pushy and mean as part of their inside jokes?

I was shipping them already!! I love what we’re hearing of their actual relationship, how comfortable they were around each other as friends-who-have-slept-together-in-the-past!! I totally get why Tim seemed to love Sasha gdi.

I love how we had tiny glimpses that Tim had lost someone precious with her, and now… we can feel how much it was the case:

(MAG026) ARCHIVIST: Are you sure you’re all right to do this now? You can take a few days off to recover if you need. SASHA: No, it’s fine. Tim’s getting me a coffee, and I’d rather get this down while it’s still fresh in my mind.

(MAG161) TIM: What, does someone need to change their password again! ARCHIVIST: I… what? TIM: [LAUGHS] ARCHIVIST: Sasha, have you been going through my computer– SASHA: Definitely not! No idea what he’s talking about. TIM: ‘Course not! SASHA & TIM: [LAUGHS]

(MAG039) SASHA: What is he doing? No, Tim, just run! Leave it alone! MARTIN: Oh no, no, no, no… SASHA: Turn around. Just turn around. MARTIN: Oh god. There she is, there she is. ARCHIVIST: [MUTTERING] There’s nothing we can do. SASHA: Ah, screw this. ARCHIVIST: What, Sasha, NO! [DOOR OPENS] SASHA: Tim, look out! […] ARCHIVIST: I need you to describe what’s going on. For the record. MARTIN: Ah, yeah. Sure. So, um, Sasha tackled Tim and there was kind of a struggle, but she made it out of the Archives. That, that was about two minutes ago and she’s gone to get help. P–probably. I mean, she, she couldn’t… she wouldn’t just run so…

(MAG065) TIM: And the worst thing? The actual worst thing is that no one here has my back. With any of it! Elias doesn’t care; Martin just wants a tea party; and Sasha… god, and you!

(MAG079) TIM: What the hell was that? MARTIN: It… er... It looked… It kinda looked… TIM: Oh don’t say it. MARTIN: It did, though, didn’t it? TIM: That wasn’t Sasha. MARTIN: No. No, no, it wasn’t. You don’t… you don’t think– TIM: He told her to go home. Like us! MARTIN: Yeah. TIM: And she did. […] MARTIN: I didn’t hear anything. Why, do you think it was the Sasha-thing? TIM: Will you shut up about that. It wasn’t anything like her.

(MAG082) MARTIN: Maybe they said something about Sasha, y’know? TIM: She’s dead, Martin. Come on! Even you’re not that blind. He got her too. MARTIN: Don’t you say that. Don’t you dare say that! […] I don’t know who that old man was, but Jon would never hurt Sasha. TIM: Fine. If it wasn’t him, it must have been that thing we saw. MARTIN: It was only for a second. And what with that weird finger guy, and the door… I mean, it d–didn’t look like her. TIM: It did. You know it did. Maybe it ate her. Maybe it was her. Maybe she was always some messed up mutant and we just never noticed. Could have been “Michael”. I mean, it basically told us it was working with Jon. When you disappear and there are more than three different ways you might be dea– … Look, I’m sorry. It’s just this place. [SIGH] Bad things happen and eventually you don’t come back. MARTIN: T–Tim… TIM: I’m going to go lie down.

(MAG086) TIM: Wait. Tell me about the two Sashas. […] What did she look like? MELANIE: What? Sorry? TIM: The first Sasha. What… What was she like? MELANIE: Uh, she was… um… I don’t, er… maybe I’m… I’m getting it wrong. I just… okay, I can’t, er– TIM: No. I… think I understand. MELANIE: Well, can you explain? TIM: … Who am I even sad for? MELANIE: I… I’m, I’m sorry… I don’t, er… TIM: Um… I’m, I’m going to lie down…

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

When The Unknowing came, Tim only mentioned Danny and avenging him – he probably didn’t remember anything about the real Sasha, only that someone had been there and wasn’t anymore?

- Kudos to the soundscaping this ep, because the timing of when the stapling sounds happened was just On Point (hammering words in/adding a bit of a playfully threatening feeling).

- ………….. Sasha had considered leaving…………… even before MAG001…

(MAG162) TIM: So, what are you gonna do? SASHA: … I don’t know, really. Might just get another job. [RUSTLING OF PAPER] TIM: What…? Seriously, just jump ship? SASHA: Yeah, I guess so! I mean… [STAPLING] There’s not much out there at the moment, but I’ve got a few alerts set up. […] I guess it’s just… I just don’t have anything keeping me here. You’ve got your brother… TIM: … yeah… SASHA: … Sorry. And, Martin can’t go anywhere that’ll look too hard at his CV. […] Don’t worry, I just– I mean… I kind of just… ended up here. And I like it! Li–liked it. But if I’m bashing my head against the glass ceiling, it’s time to go. TIM: Well… [RUSTLING OF PAPER] I’ll miss you. SASHA: Yeah. [STAPLING] You will.

1°) In canon, Sasha had been the first one to mention the option of quitting:

(MAG026) SASHA: I should really quit, you know. We, we all should. I don’t think this a normal job. I, I don’t think this is a safe job. ARCHIVIST: You’re probably right. Do you want to quit? SASHA: No. I’m just… I’m just too damned curious, I suppose. You? ARCHIVIST: No. Whatever’s going on, I… need to know.

… and rejected it for the same reasons as Jon. But it’s interesting that with Tim, she identified that she didn’t have anything to make her stay back then, while we know of Tim’s and Martin’s reasons. Jon said that Sasha had always had an interest in the paranormal:

(MAG048) ARCHIVIST: Of course, it is becoming rapidly apparent in my investigation that I can trust nobody. But of all of them, Sasha seemed the least suspicious. I can’t find any evidence she ever even met Gertrude, and her working here seems the natural progression of her lifelong interest in the paranormal. She’s been doing her work with the same diligence as before the Prentiss incident and, indeed, of all of them, seems to have been the least affected.

… So was that part the Not!Them rewriting her history to “make sense” of Sasha working at the Institute, or something genuinely pre-existent?

2°) When it comes to Tim: he had pointed out that he had grown “comfortable” in research and that Danny had stopped being so much of a priority (MAG104), I… wonder if Sasha had anything to do with that. Did Tim accept Jon’s offer to transfer to the Archives because he knew that Sasha would go there…?

3°) I’m sad again for Martin, since Sasha pointed out that leaving the Institute wasn’t really an option for him. And remembering Martin’s wording at the end of season 1:

(MAG039) ARCHIVIST: Why are you here Martin? MARTIN: Well, well, Prentiss is out there and you can’t run so– ARCHIVIST: I mean at the Archive in general. Why haven’t you quit? MARTIN: Are you giving me my review now? ARCHIVIST: No… We’re clearly doing a whole heart-to-heart thing and, truth be told, the question’s been bothering me. You’ve been living in the Archives for four months, constant threat of… this. Sleeping with a fire extinguisher and a corkscrew. Even you must be aware that that’s not normal for an archiving job? Why are you still here? MARTIN: [CONSIDERING] Don’t really know. I just am. It didn’t feel right to just leave. I’ve typed up a few resignation letters, but I just couldn’t bring myself to hand them in. I’m trapped here. It’s like I can’t… move on and the more I struggle, the more I’m stuck.

It feels like, technically, Martin constructed his own trap through his lies. (Though, at this point he could have left the Institute and changed his CV, claiming an experience he now indeed had and scraping the fake diplomas. But then, the Institute isn’t seen favourably, so…)

- I REALLY WOULD HAVE NEVER EXPECTED TO LEARN that Sasha knew about Danny, oh GODS…

(MAG162) SASHA: [SIGH] … I guess it’s just… I just don’t have anything keeping me here. You’ve got your brother… TIM: … yeah… SASHA: … Sorry.

Tim’s small broken voice when she reminded him of it ;_;

And in the same way, I! Can’t! Believe! That! Martin! Had! Told! Tim! About! His! CV!

(MAG162) SASHA: … Sorry. And, Martin can’t go anywhere that’ll look too hard at his CV. TIM: … Wait. How do you know about that? SASHA: It’s all on the system. Our digital security is shocking, by the way. Besides, it’s not even a good lie. [RUSTLING OF PAPER] TIM: Okay, but seriously, you cannot let Martin know. He’ll think I told you, and I swore to keep schtum. SASHA: Hey. Don’t worry, I just– I mean… I kind of just… ended up here.

1°) It’s absolutely hilarious that disaster!paranoid!stalker!season2!Jon… turned out to have been the last one of the original team to find out about Martin’s secret.

(MAG042) ARCHIVIST: There are a few pieces I feel could almost have been affecting if his style wasn’t so obviously enamoured with Keats, but there is an unfinished letter, addressed to his mother in Devon, in which he mentions that he is worried about “the others finding out I’ve been lying”. It may be nothing, some… inconsequential deception or other – after all, it is ostensibly written to his mother – but if it was actually to be sent to someone else… I will keep my eye on Martin.

(MAG056) MARTIN: I… … I lied on my CV. ARCHIVIST: … What? MARTIN: I don’t have a Master’s in parapsychology, I don’t even have a degree. When I was 17, my mom, she… had… she had some problems, and I ended up dropping out of school, t– trying to support us. I tried everything, but no one was hiring. So I… I just kinda started to lie on my applications, sending them out to just about anywhere. For some reason, my lie about parapsychology got me an interview with Elias and, and then a job here. M– most of my employment details are made up, I’m only 29! ARCHIVIST: Right, I… uh… I believe you! MARTIN: Why are you smiling…? ARCHIVIST: Yes, I just… hum… I won’t mention it to Elias. Just between us. MARTIN: So you… don’t… mind? ARCHIVIST: To be quite honest, Martin, I’m… I’m really rather relieved.

Sasha made her own research by hacking through the Institute system (pfTTR, take that Elias), and probably crosschecked Martin’s claims?, while Tim… knew because Martin had confided in him. Meanwhile, Jon spiralled around a misunderstanding, until he confronted Martin quite violently.

2°) I’m ;; emotional over the fact that Tim & Sasha didn’t know that the other knew, but kept Martin’s secret, even from Jon. Sasha had been a bit savage towards Martin in season 1:

(MAG026) SASHA: Right. Well, I’m sure you know I was sceptical about how dangerous this Jane Prentiss was when you first suggested Martin stay in the archive. I mean, it’s not that I didn’t believe him about what happened, it just seemed… Well, Martin is a great researcher, but his self-preservation instincts are not the strongest, and to be frank I thought that if this Prentiss were a danger everyone seemed to think, then he’d almost certainly be dead.

… Or at least condescending, but the fact that she knew about his CV is adding another dimension to these words: she knew he didn’t have the qualifications, and had still avoided to put the blame on his lack of competency (“Martin is a great researcher”). Tim and Sasha were casually protecting Martin in their own way, uh…

3°) Ouffftttt, it’s highlighting something mean about Martin&Tim’s dynamic… Tim had acknowledged that he was closer to Sasha than Martin:

Martin had told Tim about his secret (the lies on his CV)… yet Tim hadn’t told him about Danny, which Martin would learn about in MAG104, while Sasha… knew. Had she discovered it by herself (police reports regarding the disappearance of Tim’s brother), or did Tim tell her? At least, they shared that secret.

- Tim was incredibly SAVAGE about Jon in this episode, but technically… he had still accepted Jon’s offer to go to the Archives – you wouldn’t do that for someone you truly despise and hate? But ;; that there was such heavy resentment towards the fact that Sasha had been robbed of the position… It’s fair, and he identified the genuine culprit (Elias), but wooooft, those were very harsh words towards Jon, still. (And at the same time: fair, when we remember what Jon was like in season 1.)

- I… love how that tape contributed both to Sasha and Tim as characters? It was a nice move to have them pointing out people’s misconceptions or “flattening” of their personalities, in a moment that was “outside” of the show’s formula (season 1, until the climax, was solely statements, work-related discussions being overall accidental):

(MAG162) TIM: Oh, for god’s sake! [RUSTLING OF PAPER] “Oh, Tim’s so hard to talk to, seriously, he won’t stop making jokes and references, not like Sasha!” They’ve got no idea. SASHA: And they never will. TIM: Seriously, though. [STAPLING] Everyone thinks you’re just this “reliable down-to-earth nerd”… [RUSTLING OF PAPER] SASHA: And what makes you think they’re wrong? TIM: So what? Actually I’m the one who doesn’t get to see the real you? [STAPLING] SASHA: No such thing. TIM: As what? SASHA: [SCOFF] A “real you”. TIM: [GROAN] SASHA: I don’t think so, at least. It’s all just masks. TIM: Alright, Stanislavski. SASHA: You know what I mean. TIM: You really believe that? [RUSTLING OF PAPER] SASHA: Kind of! I mean… TIM: [CHUCKLE] SASHA: … Who knows why we do what we do? TIM: I do. SASHA: No. [STAPLING] All you know is what your brain does to justify what you do. [RUSTLING OF PAPER] It’s no more “reason” than the face you put on for Jon. [STAPLING] The only real you is the actions you take. TIM: Hey! I’ll have you know, I have a rich inner life. SASHA: How nice for you. [RUSTLING OF PAPER] But hurry up with your outer one: you’re falling behind, and I’m not saving you any staples.

(And it was! So appropriate, to have Sasha point out that Gertrude was faking the old senile woman persona in the same exchange.)

1°) I love that Tim was aware that he was perceived as the One Making Jokes (and self-conscious about it? Or aware that some people were finding it off-putting and an obstacle to forming a meaningful bond with him?), while Sasha showed that she was a bit meaner than we had been led to assume (and indeed, “reliable” was the perfect way to describe her in season 1… through Jon’s eyes).

2°) Tim is a theatre kid confirmed, he knows his classics. (Stanislavski)

3°) Okay, so obviously, Sasha’s speech about how people appear/who they are, and the jokes about being forgotten are AOUCH considering what happened with the Not!Them:

(MAG162) TIM: What possible reason could she have for being criminally incompetent in a manky old archive? SASHA: No idea. And honestly, it kind of worries me. [RUSTLING OF PAPER] TIM: Well… Tell you what. If you get eaten alive [STAPLING] by improperly filed statements? Me and Martin will avenge you. SASHA: Myeah, aren’t you sweet. TIM: I mean it! We’ll burn this place to the ground, it’ll be all like, “Sashaaa! Saaashaaaa!” SASHA: And what about Jon? [RUSTLING OF PAPER] TIM: Well! “Given the incoherence of this statement, I find it hard to believe it ever occurred!” SASHA: [LAUGHS] TIM: “In fact, based on the evidence, I find it highly unlikely this Sasha ever even existed at all.” SASHA: No! You took it too far. I’m unforgettable!

But the first part of her argument reminded me mostly of The Web: how actions and intentions often don’t match, what is the essence of oneself amongst what is influencing you. The idea that intentions are posterior to action was very reminiscent of how Trevor had described The Web’s effects on him (MAG056), so… Mm.

I wonder if there is something about the fact that… all this irony about Sasha getting Stranger’d and forgotten, about Jon wishing for “quiet” and that the others would “go away”, is not… fabricated somehow? I don’t think the tapes could have been tampered with; it’s mainly that there was so much dramatic irony that it feels like Sasha’s fate had been engineered, somehow, to transform her words from the past into a sort of dramatic self-fulfilling prediction…? I mean, The Web was interested in story-telling (MAG123), and Sasha got attacked when coming near a Web artefact…

- I!! Love!! That Sasha!! Had been able to see through Gertrude!

(MAG162) TIM: Yeah, yeah! … I still can’t believe Gertrude was allowed to let this place get into such a state! SASHA: Mm. [STAPLING] I just want to know why. TIM: What do you mean, “why”? [RUSTLING OF PAPER] You saw her, she’s like a hundred years old and more cardigan than woman! She just started to lose it. Sad, but it happens. SASHA: You never talked to her, did you? [STAPLING] TIM: Well, I mean… I must’ve, at some point. SASHA: Eh! You’d remember. [RUSTLING OF PAPER] TIM: Why? What was she like? SASHA: Stone. Cold. Bitch. TIM: Sasha! SASHA: And sharper than you. [STAPLING] No way this is accidental. TIM: [CHUCKLING] Oh, yeah, this is all a big geriatric conspiracy…! [SILENCE] Wait, seriously? SASHA: Mm–hmm.

(“Stone cold bitch” is… indeed the best way to describe Gertrude.)

Sasha had also been the first one to point out how shady Elias could be:

(MAG039) SASHA: … Did I ever tell you I first joined the Institute as a practical researcher? I had to analyse and investigate all the stuff in here. Take notes after sleeping in the rusted chair, write in the memory book, all that sort of thing. I transferred after three months. Would’ve quit, but couldn’t afford to back then. Never understood why they keep this stuff secret. I mean, we’ve, we’ve enough here to send any sceptic packing, but it’s just locked away. I… I asked Elias about it once, but he just muttered something about funding and mission statements. He’s good at changing the subject, isn’t he?

She was clever! Elias presented her death as a (useful) accident in MAG160, but it still feels like he casually did his best to make sure she wouldn’t stay around for long during the worms attack – how fast would she have understood about The Eye…?

- CURIOUSLY, Sasha told Tim that he would have remembered if he had spoken with Gertrude… but Jon did, and didn’t seem to feel much about it:

(MAG043) ARCHIVIST: I only ever spoke to Gertrude once or twice during her time as archivist. I… I was very new. I don’t remember what her voice sounded like.

… is there something that made Jon forget a few things, or already not pay attention to some things back before he become the Archivist…? (Since we already had the thing about Jon forgetting the ice cream outing last episode…)

- Tim blamed Sasha being passed over for a promotion on sexism, Elias mentioned that the fact Jon had been marked by The Web made him pick him… but technically, why not Tim, who had already encountered The Stranger?

(MAG104) TIM: You were watching then? ELIAS: Most of it. TIM: Surprised you didn’t know it already. That’s your thing, isn’t it? ELIAS: I knew there was some trauma that drew you to us, but I can’t say I ever thought to look much deeper. An oversight, perhaps, but I’m looking now.

… Was it because, unlike Jon who had nobody by the beginning of season 1, Tim&Sasha… were at least close to each other?

- More pressing concerns: did Tim&Sasha ever bang in the Archives.

(MAG162) TIM: [CHUCKLES] Alright. He fires you because of all the drugs and the wild orgies on Archive property. [RUSTLING OF PAPER] SASHA: Yeah, that’s fair! Now: get back to work.

Did orgies happen in the Archives.

- … That’s a LOT of references to fire in only two episodes, and four tapes which had been sent to Jon pre-apocalypse by someone/something who isn’t necessarily Elias.

(MAG161) TIM: … Oh, goodness! [SHAKES A BOX OF MATCHES] A source of ignition? In the Archives? […] Oh? Woops! [A MATCH IS LIT] Sorry; my hand slipped. And again. [CRACKLE OF A BIRTHDAY CANDLE WICK] And again. And… a couple more times, here – I’m so clumsy today; that is a lot of fire! ARCHIVIST: I’m really not comfortable with– SASHA: So blow them out, then. ARCHIVIST: Oh. [FIRE CRACKLING] … Right, yeah–

(MAG162) TIM: Well… Tell you what. If you get eaten alive [STAPLING] by improperly filed statements? Me and Martin will avenge you. SASHA: Myeah, aren’t you sweet. TIM: I mean it! We’ll burn this place to the ground, it’ll be all like, “Sashaaa! Saaashaaaa!”

So. Really really unlikely that it was Elias sending them to “gloat”, as Martin assumed, since it feels too pointed. I’m still banking on The Web, but not necessarily as an indication of what Martin&Jon should do – more like a rubbing-in-your-face that they had all the keys back then, that Jon had been given the lighter, that the spiders had showed him in season 2 the gas main that Leitner had moved… and that they didn’t do anything. Or, burning the Archives is a necessarily step in The Web’s plan, The Web is trying to push into that direction by using Jon&Martin’s resentment towards Elias, and burning the Archives (if it doesn’t end up burning Jon-the-Archive himself) will make things worse somehow.

(Given how burning Gerry’s page had been so difficult (because knowledge and because the things Gerry could still tell him) and painful (he was sobbing in pain when he finally did it) for Jon in MAG117, I wonder how much worse it would be to burn The Eye’s Archives?)

And now, confirmation that Jon still has the lighter on him, it had been a while! And we might be getting closer to an answer about it, since… it was Martin mentioning it – Martin had been the one to receive that delivery.

(MAG035) MARTIN: I’m sorry, are you two meant– BREEKON: Won’t take up your time. HOPE: Just got a delivery. MARTIN: Look, you really can’t actually– BREEKON: Package for Jonathan Sims. HOPE: Says right here. MARTIN: Well, I don’t really know where he– HOPE: We’ll just leave it with you. BREEKON: Be sure he gets it.

(MAG036) TIM: Oh, ah, nothing urgent, um, it’s just Elias was asking a couple questions about the delivery. […] Um, apparently Martin, uh, took delivery of a couple of items last week addressed to you. Did he not mention it? ARCHIVIST: No, he… Oh, yes, actually. I completely forgot. He said he put it in my desk draw, hold on. [SOUND OF PACKAGE BEING RETRIEVED AND OPENED] TIM: Er, what is it? ARCHIVIST: A lighter. An old Zippo. TIM: You smoke? ARCHIVIST: No. And I don’t allow ignition sources in my archive! TIM: Okay. Is there anything unusual about it? ARCHIVIST: Not really. Just a sort of spider web design on the front. Doesn’t mean anything to me. You?

(MAG037) ARCHIVIST: I just want a record. To make sure I have something I can check. MARTIN: Okay, fine. There were two delivery men. They were big, and they spoke with cockney accents that might have been fake, and they delivered a package for you. I don’t remember anything else about what they looked like. ARCHIVIST: Nothing at all? MARTIN: [EXASPERATED] They looked normal. Like you’d expect. They looked like two, huge, cockney delivery men. I don’t know what else you want? ARCHIVIST: What about the table? MARTIN: I didn’t see the table. I guess Rosie must have signed for it. I mean, it’s her office on the way to Artefact Storage, that makes sense.

(MAG039) ELIAS: Because there isn’t an actual fire. SASHA: Right, right. Can we set it off manually? I think Jon’s got a lighter somewhere. ELIAS: He’s not smoking again, is he?

(MAG091) DAISY: One wallet, brown leather, no cash. One packet cigarettes, Silk Cut. One lighter, gold, spiderweb design.

(MAG111) GERRY: Nice lighter. You a spider freak, then? ARCHIVIST: What? Oh! Er, no. I–I never really, uh… I never really thought of it. I–I’m Jon. I’m with the Magnus Institute.

(MAG136) DAISY: Spider’s sneaky like that. [PAUSE] Like that lighter you’re always using. Where’d you get that? ARCHIVIST: Mm. [STATIC] Good point. We should keep our eyes open. Anyway, how’s Basira doing?

(MAG162) MARTIN: [INHALE] Okay… [SIGH] You said this place, the–the cabin was… [WOODEN CREAKING SOUND] It, it’s feeding on us, right? ARCHIVIST: Yes… MARTIN: … So should we… destroy it, before we go? [WOODEN CREAKING SOUND, BUT LOUDER AND CONFRONTATIONAL] [DISTANT RUMBLE OF THUNDER] ARCHIVIST: I honestly don’t know if we can. MARTIN: Hm. ARCHIVIST: Besides, there’s… far worse out there. Better to try and avoid it, I think. MARTIN: We’re not even gonna try? We, we’ve got your lighter, maybe we could just– ARCHIVIST: We can’t fight the world, Martin. MARTIN: [AMUSED DEFIANT HUFF] Says you.

(This is how Web-Desolation!Martin can still win. ARSOOOOOOOON.)

Re: Jon’s lighter, and Jon constantly forgetting about it, I… am now also considering another option about what is making him forget that it has a spider design on it, that he got it in dubious circumstances (Breekon&Hope delivering it), and that it had stuck with him without Jon ever investigating about it.

What if it’s not The Web making him forget that he has it, but Beholding?

Making Jon not pay attention to it could absolutely be a Spider thing, we had a prime example with Gregory Cox (MAG123: “I haven’t given the name of this mystery client because to be honest, Greg’s never told me. I’ve asked him plenty of times, but whenever I do, he gives me this… surprised look, insists he’s told me before, and then immediately forgets and changes the subject.”), and that was my only supposition until now… but technically, we’ve already seen Beholding trying to prevent Jon from accessing information that he could use against it, too?

(MAG154) ARCHIVIST: I went back to Eli– er, Peter’s office. To that box of tapes; started rifling through. And I started to try and pay attention to the ones I… wasn’t drawn to. The tapes I instinctively wanted to discard. [SIGH] There was one, this one, that my hand… pulled back from. I–I dropped it, twice, when I went to pick it up. Even now, I’m… [AUDIBLE FORCED SMILE] struggling to press play…! I am the avatar of Awful Knowledge And Revealed Secrets… so what does it not want me to know…?

The lighter could have been The Web keeping tabs on Jon and sometimes influencing him when it needed to by making itself forgotten… But it could also be that The Web sent the lighter, that it was there, that it stuck with Jon, that it was supposed to help him burn the Archives, that Beholding couldn’t get Jon to separate from it, but could still make sure that baby!Beholdingavatar!Jon was unable to pay attention to it and making his attention slip over it like water…? (Am still banking on Web-Web doing Web stuff but. Beholding is technically an option as well.)

- Other thing that these recordings all share: a tape recorder being around and acknowledged / alluded to. In MAG161, both the birthday party and Gertrude&Leitner’s exchange had been conscious, willing recording: Tim was recording the scene as a memory, Gertrude had been recording a message to her successor in case things went badly.

In MAG162, recorders were there and acknowledged… but it’s a bit less clear whether they were supposed to be turned on or not.

(MAG162) [CLICK–] [RUMMAGING SOUNDS] [BOTTLES CLINKING] [PLASTIC RATTLING] GERRY: Hm? GERTRUDE: Find anything [ITEM FALLING ON THE GROUND] interesting– GERRY: Oh…! GERTRUDE: –back there? [DOOR CLOSES] GERRY: Yeah, sorry, I was just, hum… yeah. GERTRUDE: Curiosity is a very dangerous trait in our line of work, Gerard. GERRY: So is ignorance. GERTRUDE: [CHUCKLES] Well. You’re not going to find many dark secrets in the stationery cupboard. [DRAWER OR DOOR CLOSES] GERRY: Just the recorded confession of your evil plans, then. [WOOD CREAKS] GERTRUDE: I’d be something of a fool to leave that one in the recorder. GERRY: I’ve never really seen you use it. GERTRUDE: Hm! It’s generally only for those statements I think might be useful to my successor. Or, the occasional interview.

In both cases: the recorder was there. Gerry found it while inspecting Gertrude’s private things (and it was already recording before we heard him manipulating something plastic, most likely tape boxes); Sasha helped Tim to find (again) the tape recorder he was searching for for Jon. But in both cases, nobody mentioned they were being recorded, or that they had accidentally clicked it on. Were they turned on by accident, or were they already “autonomous” (/controlled by something else), leading to the recording? Tim had trouble finding the tape recorder again – had it… disappeared for a while? It’s still unclear whether or not they were already acting up on their own at the time…

(Something else these four tapes have in common is that the Archives were hosting… “unprofessional” activities putting a risk to documents? Jon’s birthday party (Tim even had matches), Gertrude ready to pour petrol in the Archives, and here: Gerry riffling through Gertrude’s possessions, Sasha stapling documents.)

- Overall, I loved loved loved the “statement”: it was so eerie, cruel and poetic? So insidiously cutting under the soft voice? And redfiojr I’m so happy and so mad about the fact that the cabin wasn’t neutral anymore and was feeding on Jon&Martin, because it was so obvious in retrospect! Jon spitting that there was no “comfort” anymore in the new world, but very adamant that they were “safe” and should stay there!

(MAG161) MARTIN: O–kay, we’ll just file that under… ominous, for now. … We seem safe enough in here, at least. ARCHIVIST: I suppose so. MARTIN: Bit of a hideaway? ARCHIVIST: Or a prison. MARTIN: Uh, yes. Still: better than outside. […] ARCHIVIST: It hurts. MARTIN: I know. ARCHIVIST: … I need time. MARTIN: I know. But we can’t stay in this cabin forever…! [DISTANT HOWL] ARCHIVIST: Why not? It, it’s quiet here, an–and I have you…! […] MARTIN: Well, that as may be, we can’t just stay here forever. ARCHIVIST: What could possibly be out there that you want to see? MARTIN: A way to stop this, a way to turn the world back! ARCHIVIST: [HINT OF A DISHEARTENED SMILE] … Do you really think there is one? [WOODEN CREAKING SOUND] MARTIN: Well, if there is, it’s not in here, is it? ARCHIVIST: It’s so… It’s so loud, out there? The agony, the–the terror, I can see it all so much more clearly…! MARTIN: I’m sorry. ARCHIVIST: No, it’s– [SIGH] I love you, I just… I need more time. [SILENCE] MARTIN: It’s alright. [RUSTLING OF CLOTHES] [CREAKING SOUND] ARCHIVIST: [SOFT EXHALE] MARTIN: It’s alright, I’m good at waiting.

The creaking sounds were overly present – it was because the house was a character by itself! And indeed, it was curious that Martin felt like he was “visiting” Jon, and not like… they were living in the same tiny space?

(MAG162) ARCHIVIST: … Wha…? [STATIC REACHING A PEAK] … “There is a place, deep in the heart of Fear, where you trap yourself and claim that it is safety. [STATIC DECREASES] It was once a cabin, and professes still to be such, but as with all in this new world that promises respite… it is a trap. […] If you had need to eat, no doubt there would be food; if you had need to sleep, no doubt the beds would be welcoming. […] Look closer at the rough planks that make this cabin, and see that they are warmer, softer and more yielding than the hard timber they present. Are the dimensions of this place quite what they were when you stayed here before The Change…? [WOODEN CREAKING SOUND] Or are the walls thicker, the doors heavier when they close. [LONG WOODEN CREAKING SOUND] Where the curtains always stained that dull maroon? Or has the dust of the horrific world they keep at bay dyed them so. The one you love is always near, [WOODEN CREAKING SOUND] so close that refuge sometimes feels a prison. And yet your voice does not echo when you call to them; and they find they sometimes cannot hear it.”

[…] MARTIN: And, I found some rope in the attic, and I packed that with the maps. […] I, I actually, eh! I actually found a stash of tea under the kitchen sink–

I have questions about that cabin, though, because it now feels like it was supposed to be a full house even before the Change, given the bedS (we all know that Jon&Martin used to only use one anyway during the three weeks honeymoon, uh.) and the mention of the attic. Daisy, what the heck was your safehouse, it wasn’t a tiny thing.

- Personally, cabin felt like a mix of Corruption, Buried, Lonely to me /o/

- I wasn’t expecting so much Jon&Martin, AND YET, I’m delighted:

(MAG161) ARCHIVIST: No, it’s– [SIGH] I love you, I just… I need more time. [SILENCE] MARTIN: It’s alright.

(MAG162) ARCHIVIST: The screams may linger on the distant breeze, and your eye may wander beyond the curtains from time to time, but you and the one you love are, it seems… safe. […] There within the thing that pretends to be a cabin is the one you love. You hold each other, whisper words of reassurance, but the place knows this comfort to be a lie, and laces upon it instead the awful fear of losing what you have. […] It will not let you feel the warmth of joy that this love may claim to gift – it is only a mouldy treasure to be clung to; something to fear the loss of as you hold it so tight that it withers, and warps. […] The one you love is always near, [WOODEN CREAKING SOUND] so close that refuge sometimes feels a prison. And yet your voice does not echo when you call to them; and they find they sometimes cannot hear it. […] “Stay!” the cabin says. [THUNDER CLAPPING] “Stay within my false defences; cling so close to what you desperately wish to save, and live in shaking fear of the things beyond that may take it from you. Throw another log on the fire and curl up close. There are always more logs for the fire here.””

The Eye and the cabin, sharing a bag of popcorn while Jon&Martin were being pda for an undetermined infinite amount of time.

(Yessss that one of Jon’s fears, used against him, was his fear of losing Martin… ;_;)

- SUPER GLAD that alright, they’re leaving the cabin already, Jon was in such a state partially because of supernatural influence, and snapped out of it already. It… wasn’t making me super comfortable re:Martin, because it was putting him back in the position of the caretaker of a moody, depressed person, trying to please/assuage Jon while doomed to fail, without leaving much space to Martin as a character for himself. While he was already beaming again at the end of this episode, and showing his competences for himself, so yay!

I’m surprised that they’re already going on the move – there are still 38 episodes in the season, they already have a goal (going back to the Institute, finding Elias), what will happen after they do?

- … So, I’m guessing those were the people that lived in the village:

(MAG162) ARCHIVIST: “Outside, it is raining. Heavy drops fall, ice-cold and laced with salt; tears of voyeuristic delight from The Eyes that see and drink in all – it sinks into the dry cracked ground, and from the mud faces struggle to push themselves free and breathe. [EVIL MOO / BÂÂ IN THE DISTANCE] [WOODEN CREAKING SOUND] They cannot breach the surface, as the slick soil flows down their throats.”

;; Kinda hope that we’re not heading towards “everyone is dead(/worse) or nerfed except for avatars and the MCs, and it will be like that until the end”…

(See, the themes of isolation don’t hit me badly with the current events? But the idea that Everyone Can Suffer And (Not!)Die Except A Selected Few, Mainly These Able-Bodied Male Main Characters Who Have The Tools To Suffer Less is a bit heavier for me.)

- … This bit:

(MAG162) ARCHIVIST: “Something moves outside, struggling to crawl upon a hundred reaching grasping hands. It shudders, and grips the earth, pulling itself along as nails rip free and skin scrapes loose. It is afraid of what it has become, and where it might be going.”

Reminded me of Daisy? It might have been an evil cow, but “it is afraid of what is had become” really reminds me of Daisy…

- Sound-setting wise, I wondered at some point if we weren’t precisely witnessing a reverse-engineering of the apocalypse, since… Jon was “saying” a statement talking to himself in second person (like Jonah’s in MAG160), and we began to hear the thunder in the background (just like in MAG160). Very eerie, very “oh no, something big is happening” moment.

I… am not sure re:what happened with Jon and the “statement”, but it reminded me of the Coffin and his understanding of The Lonely:

(MAG132) ARCHIVIST: Come on… Come on, where I… DAISY: Jon? ARCHIVIST: … Come on… [STATIC] [SHAKY BREATHING] DAISY: Jon? ARCHIVIST: I know… DAISY: Th–the way out? ARCHIVIST: No… I know where we are! There isn’t no out, not here. This is… this is forever deep below creation. Where the weight of existence bears down… This is The Buried, and we are alive… There isn’t even an up. … Oh god… What have I done! What have I done…

(MAG159) PETER: [DISTORTED] Just go. ARCHIVIST: Make me. … Unless you can’t. The Lonely and The Eye aren’t too far apart, are they? Not really. What good’s being alone if you don’t know how alone you truly are. Which means… well, I think you’re worried. You know I’ll find him eventually, and you know I can find you. […] [STATIC] … Or perhaps you could answer some questions. PETER: [DISTORTED] … What? ARCHIVIST: [STATIC INCREASES] I wouldn’t try to leave if I were you. I can See you now. I can find you wherever you go. PETER: Fine! It was just a thought. [STATIC DECREASES] So leave.

Being overwhelmed by a power, until his Beholding-alignment shines through and leads to an understanding of what is happening, how the Fear is operating. So I would assume that the same happened: Jon was subjected to the cabin’s influence, and finally understood what it was doing, which allowed him to gain the upper hand against it, like it had with Peter.

Interesting that the tape recorder which invited itself… chose that moment to record him, although we had mentions that Jon had listened to the tapes we hear many times before. As if the tape recorder knew that Something More would happen this time – or it caused it? (Jon had been able to feel his anchor in the Coffin once Martin had left the tape recorders around, as if they were amplifying his powers…)

- … I’m mostly concerned about why The Eye wanted Jon to come out of it because uh, Jon transforming is… not a good sign, and The Eye seems plenty satisfied with the new world… but also, has been characterised by a constant craving for more:

(MAG120) ELIAS: The Ceaseless Watcher of all that is, and all that was; the voracious, infinite hunger that tears at his soul, invoking him to discover, to observe, to experience all and everything and forever. It stares into him, and it stares out of him, and he is falling into the devouring eternity of its pupil. He wants to cry out in horror, but he cannot. He. is. whole.

(MAG162) ARCHIVIST: “Outside, it is raining. Heavy drops fall, ice-cold and laced with salt; tears of voyeuristic delight from The Eyes that see and drink in all – it sinks into the dry cracked ground, and from the mud faces struggle to push themselves free and breathe. […] This place wishes to be our tomb. But The Eye does not wish that. No. [STATIC RISES] The Eye wishes instead that it be my chrysalis. [WOODEN CREAKING SOUND] It is time that I emerge…” [STATIC REACHING A PEAK]

So. What just happened / what is meant to happen to Jon? Is there a distinction between the “you”, “us”, “I”, is this Jon “becoming” in the same vein that Elias was pushing for back in the days:

(MAG116) ELIAS: I have been doing my best to prepare you, Jon, to See. You should hopefully have it a bit easier than the others. ARCHIVIST: Another of my… powers? ELIAS: More… an aspect of your becoming. DAISY: You don’t say. ARCHIVIST: Er… right.

(Lucky that “chrysalis” means “butterfly”, because, hum, if it had been about a moth… We already had Jack Barnabas’s “I just couldn’t avoid being drawn in, like a moth to the flame.” in MAG067…)

- Also surprised by Jon’s sudden burst of “hatred” because? It would be absolutely understandable given what he did to them (+ Elias was the last human to see Sasha, in MAG039…), but it still sounded a bit uncharacteristic from Jon, and very sudden:

(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…!

And I’m reminded of The Web pulling someone in a direction, and letting them rationalise why they would want to do this?

(Also, sob about Jon going back to instinctive “Elias” here. His complains about Martin using “Elias” really was the outlier in MAG161, because he was being overall insufferable, uh.)

- BIG new thing is what Jon described with the tape recorder:

(MAG162) ARCHIVIST: This cabin. [WOODEN CREAKING SOUND] It’s not right. And, when I thought that, I–I felt… It, it all poured out of me down… into the tape. MARTIN: [SIGH] ARCHIVIST: A–a–an–and it… felt good. It–it felt… right. MARTIN: Okay. [BREATHES IN] So you’re recording again? ARCHIVIST: I might need to. If we’re going to make it…! […] MARTIN: You’re… taking the recorder? ARCHIVIST: Uh, just in case I need to… vent. Again, it… [INHALE] it helps. MARTIN: [INHALE] Okay… [SIGH]

… So it feels like Jon just fed the recorder with an excess. What are they and what is Jon feeding, exactly…? (Interesting that unlike Beholding, who used to suck out energy from him in season 3 when he was reading or taking too many statements… “pouring” himself to the tape recorder made him active and functioning.)

(Also, “to vent”: Jon, you’ve been using the tape recorders as your personal therapists for three full seasons, by now.)

- Martin…

(MAG162) MARTIN: What happened? The tapes, were you– [STATIC DECREASES] ARCHIVIST: I–I was listening, and it… it was the one with… Tim an–and Sasha, uh, where they… MARTIN: Yeah, yeah. … Yeah.

… has listened to these tapes too, uh ;_;

- This was the “Characters Don’t Have Any Respect For Posh!Jon” episode, while! Technically, Tim&Martin had each already done impressions before:

(MAG162) TIM: Well! “Given the incoherence of this statement, I find it hard to believe it ever occurred!” SASHA: [LAUGHS] TIM: “In fact, based on the evidence, I find it highly unlikely this Sasha ever even existed at all.”

(MAG039) TIM: … still working? Ah, okay. Test, test. What are you doing on the floor? Huh. [IMITATES ARCHIVIST VOICE] “Statement of Joe Spooky, regarding sinister happenings in the downtown old–”

(MAG117) MARTIN: I know, I know it’s not exactly intricate, but… it felt good, weaving my own little web. OH, oh Christ, I hope Jon doesn’t actually listen to these. “Good lord, is Martin becoming some sort of spider person?” No, Jon, it’s an expression, chill out.

(MAG162) MARTIN: No, no; I, I know what you’re going to say. [RUMMAGING] “What good are maps when the very Earth has…” and blah blah blah…

Gods, I love these idiots.

- Surprised that “tea” is making its comeback! Is it linked to Jon’s state of mind or Martin’s? Is there a trick or… is it plain, mundane tea, which will remain actual tea because Martin isn’t clinging to it as comfort but just as a nice thing that he is allowed to enjoy – and Jon doing the same by extension?

(MAG162) TIM: Swap in a poisoned teabag, pin it on Martin – the perfect crime. SASHA: [CHUCKLES] And how do you know that you won’t be the one that gets it? That boy makes a lot of tea.

(MAG045) MARTIN: Hey, I-just-wanted-to-check-if-you-wanted-a-cup-of-tea? ARCHIVIST: Aaah… […] MARTIN: Right, right… D– did you want that tea? ARCHIVIST: Nnno. Thank you, Martin.

(MAG065) TIM: And the worst thing? The actual worst thing is that no one here has my back. With any of it! Elias doesn’t care; Martin just wants a tea party; and Sasha… god, and you!

(MAG069) MARTIN: … Look. Jon… when was the last time we all just… talked? Just talked, without all of this– ARCHIVIST: Thank you for the tea, Martin. MARTIN: … Oookay. Fine. [DOOR OPENS] He’s not wrong, you know. [DOOR CLOSES] ARCHIVIST: … [SIGH] [WEAKLY] I know. Statement of… Darren Harlow… [SIGH] [FIRMER] Statement of Darren Harlow regarding a failed psychology experiment at the University of Surrey.

(MAG110) BASIRA: Look, Martin. I know you care. I know you do. But caring isn’t enough. You can’t just stand next to someone with a cup of tea and hope everything’s gonna be alright. MARTIN: That's. not. fair. You don’t even know me. BASIRA: Prove it. We need to do something. Because if we just let him– MARTIN: Oh, h–hi, hey, hey Melanie! I, I, c–can I get you – a – cup – of – tea?

(MAG116) MARTIN: What, I’ll sit around drinking tea until the world ends?! Or– you, you know, it doesn’t. BASIRA: We hope.

(MAG117) MARTIN: Anyway. I guess I’m just… sick of sitting on my hands, drinking tea and hoping everyone’s okay. This way I finally get to do something. It’s gonna hurt, but… I’m ready. And I want to. Also, I get to burn some stuff, so that cool!

(MAG118) MARTIN: So what? I don’t get to be angry? I don’t get to burn things? Just, just run around, making tea, when everyone else gets to actually– have– feelings? ELIAS: Please get to the point, Martin.

(MAG122) BASIRA: Anything else? ARCHIVIST: … Water, please. BASIRA: Sure thing. [DOOR OPENS] ARCHIVIST: … Oh, or a–a cup of t– [CLOSES DOOR] ARCHIVIST: … [SIGH] [VERY QUIETLY] Okay…

(MAG137) ARCHIVIST: Everyone else is… running towards something, or running away, and I… [SIGH] I don’t know what I’m doing. [PAUSE] [SIGH] I’m just tired. Think I might go lie down for a while. Get a cup of tea [HUFF]

(Season 5 trailer) MARTIN: I brought you some tea…! ARCHIVIST: No you didn’t. MARTIN: Uh… What? Uh, y–yes I did! [NERVOUS CHUCKLE] ARCHIVIST: We ran out of tea the day before the Change, you… said the little shop in the village didn’t have any more. Ergo… that isn’t tea. MARTIN: What? No, of course it’s tea, I– [SOMETHING THAT IS NOT TEA SCUTTLES AWAY] AH, AH! AH! [THE MUG SHATTERS OF THE FLOOR] MARTIN: OH! Woah…! Oh… Wha… [HIGH-PITCHED] What, but I–, I–I made that, if– I… Wh… I thought it was– ARCHIVIST: I’m sorry, Martin. MARTIN: [PANTS] ARCHIVIST: [WITH AN EDGE] Things don’t work like that anymore…! MARTIN: Like what?! ARCHIVIST: Like normal. This is no longer a world where you can trust…! MARTIN: What, t–tea?! ARCHIVIST: … Comfort.

(MAG162) MARTIN: I, I actually, eh! I actually found a stash of tea under the kitchen sink– ARCHIVIST: [FOND CHUCKLE] MARTIN: I–I realise, we don’t need to eat or – whatever, but, you know, that doesn’t mean that we won’t… ARCHIVIST: Yes – yes, yes…! It’s… alright. Alright.

(Because if the idea is that, okay yeah, things are terrible, and drinking tea won’t help but EH, they can still have nice things if they decide to, yesss.) (If it’s not: serve it to Elias.)

- I still can’t believe how IN LOVE Jon and Martin sounded in their complicity/marvel of each other:

(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… […] ARCHIVIST: Martin… It’s going to be a hard journey. MARTIN: [RELIEVED EXHALE] ARCHIVIST: One– MARTIN: Yeah, yeah, yeah– ARCHIVIST: –in which we… MARTIN: –so, I’ve actually had a couple of bags packed for a while, now! [HEAVY ITEM DROPPED] ARCHIVIST: Oh! MARTIN: And, I found some rope in the attic, and I packed that with the maps. ARCHIVIST: [CHUCKLING] Uh, Martin, I… MARTIN: No, no; I, I know what you’re going to say. [RUMMAGING] “What good are maps when the very Earth has…” and blah blah blah… ARCHIVIST: W– Uh, yes– MARTIN: But I’ve, I’ve packed them anyway because you never know. ARCHIVIST: Martin, I… MARTIN: I, I actually, eh! I actually found a stash of tea under the kitchen sink– ARCHIVIST: [FOND CHUCKLE] MARTIN: I–I realise, we don’t need to eat or – whatever, but, you know, that doesn’t mean that we won’t… ARCHIVIST: Yes – yes, yes…! It’s… alright. Alright. [MOVEMENT] MARTIN: … We’ve got this. [SOUNDS OF PACKING UP AND RUMMAGING] ARCHIVIST: [FOND] Apparently so…! […] We can’t fight the world, Martin. MARTIN: [AMUSED DEFIANT HUFF] Says you. ARCHIVIST: [WITH A SMILE] Let’s go.

Jon wants to murder Elias, and Martin finds it HOT. Martin is competent, was only waiting for Jon as he said, and ready to fight the world, and Jon finds it HOT.

Bonus for arsonist!Martin on the loose:

Martin was quick to understand that the cabin was “feeding” on them, although Jon hadn’t mentioned it (just that it wasn’t right and didn’t want them to leave). So… some of Martin’s studies from season 4 showing off, uh? He’s grown to understand the Fears a bit, I’m really curious about how it will help him/them this season.

MAG163’s title makes me think of Buried, naturally, but mmMMm. Got also reminded of MAG007, which reminded me of “Joseph Rayner” and the fact that Jon mentioned that he wasn’t sure that it had been the Usual Dark!Rayner, in MAG140? Anyway, still expecting to follow Jon&Martin but the title could also work really well if we were to get a peek of how Basira and/or Georgie&Melanie are faring…

#long post/#the magnus archives #tma liveblog #tma season 5 #mag162 #tma spoilers/#that was WEIRDLY HOPEFUL and now next ep in 18 min i'm fear.

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