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fairieboywhump · 3 years ago

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This Isn’t About Him,

aka The Culmination Point, expanded.

this DOES include the original culmination point chapter, although some things have been changed to better fit the idea i had for all this

zander, wren and cain belong to my good good friend @spookyboywhump

word count: 4,417

trigger warnings: pet whump, car crash, gun violence, MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH (already established.) elements of a chase, degradation and dehumanization, domestic violence, begging, claustrophobia (brief), victim blaming, idk its a just little intense id say

~~~

Cathal wasn’t pulled out of the tiny cell of a room that morning, a fact which confused the three of them equally. He was used to being separated from Zander and Wren any and every morning he woke up there, Cain having long since given up on actually putting the effort into separating them. It seemed that Zander nearly knocking his teeth out had been enough of a lesson to leave the two of them alone.

He wasn’t woken up at first light, wasn’t pulled away and to a dark, lonely room down the hall where he would wait for Clement to come fetch him. It set the group of them on edge, and although no one would say a word, the tension hanging thick in the air said more than enough for them.

Something was up. Cathal shifted nervously, tucking himself closer into Zander’s chest while he watched the door and picking at his fingers.

“D-do you think… something h-happened?” He whispered, afraid of both the idea of Clement not coming for him, and the chance of being found in there.

“I don’t… know.” Zander replied, his own voice tinged with the same nervous energy that buzzed around the room. They all had seemed to come to their own worst conclusion, Cathal’s mind darting rapidly from theory to theory. Clement could have died, or Cain forgot about him, or he was going to open the door now and catch him in Zander’s arms. He didn’t want to be punished again, they had gotten so severe, and why should he not be allowed to love? Why should he be denied, when Clement had so clearly moved on from him?!

A part of him felt bad, an awful sick feeling settling deep in his mind at the thought of how disobedient he was being, was always being. He could hardly keep his hands off of Zander, no matter how many times he had been told off, been punished and tortured for his audacity. He knew he was horrible for it, for abandoning his owner, but he didn’t want to anymore. He was tired, so tired, of being a pet. Of being Clement’s. And if Clement couldn’t even control a situation he had built himself, if he was so clearly terrified of the people he had befriended, Cathal figured, why should he be obedient? To a Master who can’t control his own variables?

Zander was nice to him, took care of him, did a damn better job than Clement ever had. He made Cathal feel safe as long as no one was there to hurt them, he tried so hard to protect him, hated to see him hurt. Cathal hated to see Zander hurt, too, but he couldn’t give himself the same credit when it came to bravery.

None of them were sure how long they sat there waiting in silence. No one wanted to break it, to dare risk the chance at making something happen. Cathal, occasionally, would bury his face in his hands, leaning forward and curling in on himself. They all knew he was trying not to cry, but no one said anything of it. He had the right.

“I d-don’t… I don’t want him to come get me…” Cathal eventually said, looking up from his hands and to Zander with tears in his eyes. “I- I don’t, I don’t w-want him to come, I don’t want him to, to t-take me away…”

“Cathal-” Zander started, cut off when Cathal stood up, hands in his hair, looking frantically around the room.

“He- he l-lends me out! He l-lets, he lets T-Teddy do wh-whatever he wants, and, and I- I don’t want him to come back for me! I don’t w-wanna leave, I don’t want to- to e-ever see him a-and, and I don’t want to- I don’t want to be scared to t-touch you…” Cathal was crying, now, and the sight broke Zander’s heart. He wanted nothing more than to keep him here, or somewhere better, to protect him and keep him safe from the kind of people who delighted in reducing him to this.

Zander pushed himself up, stepping towards Cathal and catching him when he collapsed into his arms. It never failed to shock him just how light Cathal was, bringing along worry and concern as he knew the boy was rarely fed. Cathal clung to him, sobbing into his shoulder the moment he was caught. Zander led him back to the bed, not entirely sure of how to interact with his particular emotional break. He didn’t know how to react, the stress Cathal was always under certainly made it understandable, but Zander wished he could fix it, despite knowing how far out of his ability that would be.

Cathal was no better off, shaking as he cried and not fully understanding himself what had brought on such strong emotions. His breath caught in his throat over and over, heaving sobs wracking his exhausted body. He was always so exhausted now.

Whatever it was that he was experiencing, Cathal knew for a fact that he did not like it, and in fact found himself bitterly contemplating his more recent brushes with death.

The feeling didn’t last, not with Zander holding him so tight. Cathal closed his eyes, leaning back into him and focusing on their hearts beating. Zander hung his head over Cathal’s shoulder, his fluffy black hair tickling at his ears.

They knew whatever was coming would be bad. There was no good outcome, and as much as the two of them dreaded it - they knew it would only be worse if Clement showed up to see them cuddled together like that. Cathal wished it would never come, the thought of this moment ending when the next was certain to be so awful, it had been years since he grew used to it, but the feeling never seemed to stop terrifying him.

He didn’t want to move, and Zander didn’t want to let him go. Away from the warmth, the comfort of being held, he was always so cold without Zander’s arms around him. Clement could never compare.

It was so nice to be held, but as the seconds ticked on he knew; they all knew what kind of a fate he was dooming himself to. It was obvious, painful even, the tension as they began the slow, quiet process of separation. Moving across the bed and detaching from the fantasy that maybe they could just lay there, and be safe, only seemed to be increasingly painful the more they had to do it.

The air was still. Everything was still, aside from dust in the light from the window, small as it was, just enough of the sunlight passing through to illuminate what Cathal assumed to be years of dust - which drifted toward the floor at such a slow pace he almost felt as if the entire world had slowed completely.

The loud, aggressive metal sound of the door shocked Cathal out of his thoughts and into the moment he had been dreading.

Clement didn’t look angry, more so tired, maybe a little on edge. Regardless, Cathal knew he would hate whatever came next and he mentally prepared himself for the verbal beating he was about to experience.

It still felt so slow, his mind hazy from the amount of stress waiting for the inevitable had brought on. Clement called to him, and he could have sworn he looked over to him, but when he blinked he found himself still staring at the floor, only properly moving his eyes to see his owner when he was forced to, when he was held tightly by his jaw and forced to show his tearstained face, bloodshot eyes and he knew Clement would be angry, but he never managed to think of anything else he could have done.

“Don’t fucking touch him.” Zander spat, pulling Cathal back into his lap.

“I don’t recall asking for your permission, yet you always seem to assume it matters.” Clement sneered, tapping on his thigh to beckon Cathal to him. “Come on puppy, Cathal, baby, come here.”

“No…” Cathal muttered, his eyes vacant. “No, I- I don’t want to…”

“Excuse me?” Clement practically hissed, stepping forward although he knew the risk. “You should know better than to speak to me like that, repeat yourself. Say it again.”

Cathal wasn’t sure what he was saying, just that he needed to say it, there was anger pooling up inside of him that just begging to be tipped over, it felt good to say it, regardless of how much he knew he would regret it.

“N-no! No, no I, I d-don’t, I don’t w-want to… I don’t want th-this…” He squeezed his eyes shut as tears fell freely down his cheeks, pushing closer to Zander. “I don’t want to!”

“You’re a useless fucking mutt, how many times will I have to remind you that? You can’t obey a thing, you’re fucking ungrateful, I’d have half a mind to put you down.”

“N-no-”

“Do you still think you have a fucking choice? Do you think I want to hear what you have to say, what excuse you have for being the biggest disappointment you ever could have become?”

“I- I d-don’t- I’m, I’m sorry-”

“Get up. Tell your guard dog he’s failed you.” Clement growled. Cathal sniffled as he stood up, pulling away from Zander’s arms - who held on until Cathal forced himself away.

Clement grabbed him by the arm, pulling him away and out of the room as quickly as he could. Cathal paid little attention to his surroundings as he was dragged through the house, barely acknowledging it at all when they were outside, although the sunlight was much brighter than he was prepared for.

Clement dragged him to the car, gripping his wrists tightly even as he fumbled with his keys. Cathal felt his heart drop when Clement pulled him towards the back of the car, just barely pulling away when the lid of the trunk opened.

“Get in.” Clement ordered, his voice stern. Cathal hesitated, pulled slightly harder, and Clement yanked him forward, grabbing him by the hair once he was closer and slamming his forehead against the back of the car. He pulled Cathal back, searching for the dazed look in his eyes, and grinned to himself when he noticed the mark from where the edge of the trunk had hit him. Cathal barely resisted as Clement shoved him into the small space this time, not even given a moment to properly gauge his surroundings before the lid shut and he was plunged into darkness.

This was just another moment he wished would not precede something horrible. Another moment he wished would last a little longer, regardless of everything, of anything, he wished it wouldn’t end. He hated the cramped space, the darkness, the way it surrounded and enveloped him entirely. He felt so helpless, so afraid, but the discomfort and fear, he knew, were preferable to whatever was coming next.

There were a few minutes, in that, where he found his mind back on the idea of an easier way out. Cathal didn’t want to die, not really, but it had become a more pressing issue recently. He couldn’t, he reminded himself, imagining the way Zander would react if something serious really did happen to him.

It wasn’t a long drive. It never was.

Cathal cringed when the lid of the trunk opened, too bright light shining into his eyes and temporarily blinding him. Clement grabbed him immediately, not giving him a single moment to recuperate before dragging him out of the car and toward the house.

He was shoved to his knees in the living room, carpet digging into the bare skin of his knees. Cathal was grateful for the fact that his shorts did, at least, cover the scars on his thighs, but not for the way the carpet tore into him, the scars on his knees evidence of years of rug burn. He cried when Clement hit him, hard enough across the back of his head to knock him forward.

“I can’t fucking stand you,” Clement spat, pacing near the door with a sour look on his face. “You could have been such a good boy for me, if you had just quit fighting me. It would all be so much easier. I wouldn’t have to keep fucking hurting you.”

Both of them knew that wasn’t true. Violence for the sake of violence had become a love language of sorts, the only communication that ever seemed to take place coming between punches thrown and blood spilled. It wasn’t something Clement could fully stop, anymore, the anger he had built up finally eating away the last vestiges of the kind, intelligent and caring persona Cathal had fallen in love with. He would be subject to Clement’s violence for the rest of his life, whether in person or simply haunted by the ghost of his memories.

Although Cathal wasn’t sure he would outlive him, anymore.

He cried when Clement pulled him to his feet, one hand twisted in his hair to drag him. His head connected with the plaster wall once, twice, again and again until he could barely think and he was thrown to the ground and kicked.

There was no use fighting. There was no use even saying a thing, helpless whines falling from his lips as he rolled onto his back, and Clement stepped on his chest. Cathal looked up at him, and groaned loudly when he put weight down, forcing the breath out of his lungs. He was dazed, and it showed on his face, with the way he whined and tried to pull away from the assault.

Clement pulled him back up, still glaring as their eyes met, before throwing him to the floor again. He ignored the cracking sound as Cathal’s back met the edge of the coffee table, and the cry of pain that came with it, looking down on him with anger and disgust.

“You know you fucking deserve this, don’t you?” He spat, and Cathal whimpered. “You certainly don’t deserve to have him fucking take care of you like some kind of fucking child.”

“I- I’m, I’m s-sorry-”

“No the fuck you are not! You’re not sorry for anything, you pathetic bitch! Save it! Fucking save it, I don’t want to hear a word of your incessant whining! If you really need to speak, tell me how much you deserve this.”

“I-”

“Well go on, if you want to speak that fucking badly.” Clement sat on the couch, Cathal watching his every move, trying to avoid making it even worse. “Tell me you deserve to have your loving fucking owner beat you until you’re no good for anyone else.”

Cathal’s heart pounded in his chest, he felt lightheaded as Clement stared at him. Still, he pulled himself to kneel properly, like a good pet, and faced Clement even as he cried.

“I-” The words felt tight in his throat, his tears were sure to interrupt him, and he hoped he wouldn’t cry hard enough to be punished further for it. “I- I d-deserve it…”

“Deserve what, puppy? Come on now, you know what I want from you.”

“I- I deserve to, to, to h-have- I, I, I deserve m-my owner-”

“Your loving owner, sweetheart, don’t forget how I’ve spoiled you.”

“Mm-my l-l-loving owner… I d-deserve to, to, to h-have him b-beat… m-me…” Cathal choked on a sob, hanging his head and biting his lip. “I’m- I’m sorry, I’m sorry-”

Clement slapped him across the face, causing his head to snap to the side, and he sobbed out another apology that Clement simply ignored.

“Say it,” Clement hissed, grabbing Cathal’s chin and forcing him to look up. “Fucking say it, you stupid dog.”

“I’m sorry!” Cathal cried, trying to look anywhere but at Clement, feeling his eyes directly on him was already too much. “I’m, I’m s-sorry and, and I, I d-deserve to have m-my, my loving oh- owner b-beat me un- until, until I’m n-no, no good for- for a-anyone else…”

His voice died out near the end, sobs taking over and preventing him from saying a single word more. Thankfully, Clement seemed accepting of Cathal only repeating once, and let go of his chin, prompting Cathal to let his head hang as he cried.

Clement kicked him to the ground, and Cathal whined softly. He watched him stalk off, down the hallway and into his bedroom. The door slammed shut, and Cathal flinched, taking the few precious moments of peace to let himself breathe.

Once the door was shut, Clement collapsed against it, running a hand through his hair and sighing. He pulled his phone out, taken by surprise at the text message on his screen.

Have you decided yet?

A shiver ran down his back, and he shut his phone off and tossed it across the room. It landed on the bed before bouncing onto the floor. What the fuck was he going to do?

Something was wrong when Clement exited the bedroom.

Something was wrong, as he grabbed Cathal by the arm, tugging him to his feet without a word.

Something was wrong, and the air was thick with it as Clement dragged Cathal out through the back door, nervously running a hand through his hair and looking around as he did. His behaviour reminded Cathal of a prey animal, in a way.

That scared him.

Clement shoved him into the passenger's seat of the car, slamming the door shut. He paced for a moment, scanning his surroundings before pulling his pack of cigarettes from his pocket and sticking one in his mouth. Cathal watched with curious eyes as he lit the thing, taking a long drag of it and visibly relaxing as he exhaled. He took a few breaths with his eyes shut, before putting the cigarette back in his mouth and walking to the other side of the car. The driver's side door shut, and Clement wasted no time in turning the car on and pulling out of the driveway.

Usually, there was a drone of music that Clement enjoyed playing through the speakers, and the silence left Cathal's heart beating hard in his throat. Clement checked the mirrors frequently, keeping a close eye on any cars driving behind him.

"Clement-" Cathal started, concerned.

"Don't fucking say a thing."

"Th-this isn't about Zander, i-is it?"

Clement stayed silent, focusing on the road. Cathal put a hand on his leg, his eyes wide and worried.

"T-tell me what's g-going on."

There was a deep, dark fear in Clement's eyes as he looked at Cathal, his mouth hanging open slightly. He swallowed hard, tearing his gaze away and back to the road at the sound of a horn, just in time to swerve back into his lane and narrowly missing hitting another car. "Don't- don't fucking distract me, you- you have no clue what's happening here."

"You don’t st-stutter, Clement. S-something is wr-wrong and I can tell."

Clement shot Cathal a dirty look, pursing his lips and setting his shoulders to indicate that he wasn't going to say another thing. Cathal sighed, leaning back in his seat and looking out the window. They drove in silence for a while, Clement lighting another cigarette at a red light. He pulled onto the highway, and Cathal finally began to make sense of the bags that had been thrown in the backseat a day or two ago.

They were running away.

"Wh-what did your g-girlfriend th-think of this plan?" Cathal mused aloud, more talking to himself than anything; but noted the way Clement bristled.

"Shut up."

"You didn't t-tell her."

"Shut up." Clement repeated, a hint of aggression in his tone. "It's none of your business, mutt."

"It's my business if you f-fucking get killed! If he c-comes after b-both of us!"

"Shut up! I don't want to hear it!" Clement pressed on the gas, pulling into the passing lane and eyeing the mirror with a worried look. Cathal turned in his seat, his eyes widening at the sight of a very recognizable truck coming up behind them.

"You f-fucking idiot. W-we're going to fucking die." He gasped, covering his mouth with his hand. Clement growled, grabbing him by the shirt and pulling him back into his seat with a “Sit the fuck down!"

"Do you really think you can outrun that?!" Cathal shrieked, slapping Clement's hand away, his eyes filling with tears as the true terror of their situation began to set in. "We're fucked!"

Clement turned to him, his own eyes wide with fear. "I-" He started, cutting himself off as he glanced back at the road. He looked back at Cathal for just a moment, who was surprised to see such a genuine expression. "I'm sorry." Clement finally muttered. "For- for everything. All of it."

Time seemed to slow in the seconds after his confession, Cathal's pulse so loud in his ears he could barely hear a thing.

"I forgive you."

Clement's jaw dropped, his eyes seeming to bulge out of his head for half a second before his cigarette slipped from his teeth, dropping cherry-first onto his thigh. Cathal shrieked and Clement let out a pained cry, jumping in his seat and letting go of the steering wheel as he tried to grab for it. He shouted, again, grabbing for the wheel to swerve away from oncoming traffic. Cathal's head jerked as he turned away, too fast- crashing into the guardrail along the side of the road, the two of them flung forward by the impact.

Buzzing, blurry vision and the world almost seemed to be going in slow motion again. Cathal’s ears rang, and he took long, slow blinks to try and clear his vision. Clement laid unconscious in his seat, both airbags had deployed and hopefully prevented anything too serious. After struggling with his seatbelt and eventually getting himself free, Cathal reached over to grab Clement's arm, shaking him lightly.

"W-wake up," He whined, shaking a bit harder when Clement didn't respond. "Wake up. Y-you can't, you can't j-just drop that on, on me and- and d-die, c-come on…"

He shook Clement once more, harder, as the truck from before pulled up behind them. Looking through the rear window, Cathal could see Teddy - and Teddy could see him. He shot Cathal a grin, one so sinister it sent a chill down his spine.

"Wake up!" He cried, grabbing Clement by both arms to shake him. Clement groaned, squeezing his eyes shut and pulling away slightly. "He's here!"

Clement's eyes shot open, and he turned in his seat to see, the colour draining from his face as he did. He looked back to Cathal, terror apparent in his bloodshot eyes.

"Run." He ordered, and as hard as he tried, he couldn't hide the way his voice shook. Cathal hesitated, and Clement leaned over, opening the door and pushing him out. "Run! Get the fuck out of here!"

So he did.

They say time turns slowly when your life is on the line. Cathal had no way to measure the time passing, but he was fairly certain that the saying wasn’t exactly false.

But he had done it.

Well, partially. He had managed to run away, sure, but he knew that it had never ended particularly well any previous times and a part of him dreaded what would happen if, or more likely when, he was tracked down and punished for this.

He started running again. He stopped frequently, although never resting anywhere long enough to fully catch his breath before moving on again. He had to get somewhere public, where he would be seen, any place that Teddy couldn’t just walk up and take him from.

The gunshot shook him straight to the bone. His mind scrambled to a conclusion, he almost wanted it to be wrong, although there really wasn’t much else to think of. Clement had never owned a gun- he had never wanted to own one. Cathal knew for a fact that Teddy’s opinion on them was much different.

He was dead. His owner, the person who had hurt him and loved him and taken care of him. Cathal let himself stand in place for a moment longer, which, looking back, he regretted every second he remained unmoving. The sound of branches cracking was enough to snap him out of his shock, and he turned as quickly as he could - trapped between the threatening darkness of the trees and the heavy footsteps growing ever closer. He chose the former.

The thing Cathal had not expected, in his panic, his need to get away, was that he would have forgotten about the world outside of that two bedroom home. Branches whipped at his cheeks, spiderwebs caught on his clothes, while he was almost certain he was louder than his pursuer.

The adrenaline was unlike anything he had ever experienced. He had feared for his life before, yes, yet no threat had ever felt as real as this did, as he tripped over a raised root, his chest instantly hitting the ground and knocking the wind out of him. His chin connected with stone which split the skin, and panic drove through his body as he scrambled to stand and continue to run.

A hand pulled him up, gripping his collar tightly - he clawed uselessly at the attacker for a moment, finally letting out a broken sob before dropping his hands to the side.

“Good doggy,” Teddy sneered, as Cathal whimpered in his grasp, almost completely still with fear. “Come on now, make this easy, I know your poor heart must be aching but we wouldn’t want to make the rest of you match, would we?”

Cathal nodded. Tears slipped down his cheeks, he inhaled shakily to keep from sobbing, unprepared to accept the reality he was now being thrust into.

He didn’t fight when he was taken back to Teddy’s truck. He didn’t flinch when the door slammed, he didn’t say a word when he was zip tied to the passenger seat, thrown in the back and told not to move. He gagged when he saw the body, a perfect, cloudless sky stark in contrast against the blood, the burns from his cigarette and the bullet hole in his forehead.

Clement Smyth was dead.

And it was all his fault.

#cathal #clement #zander #teddy #my ocs #my writing #allens ocs

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my-one-true-l · 3 years ago

Note

Hi, I hope you are having a great day. Ok now.... I don't know if it's alright to ask, feel free to ignore this, but what are your thoughts on L torturing Misa, using criminals as bait and other shady methods ?? Most of the tumblr fandom consider L to be a selfish and arrogant person who doesn't care about justice. My take is very different from all of them and sometimes it just feels wierd to see people calling L as evil as Light.

Hello Dear Anon! It’s absolutely ok to ask. You've come to the right place lol! I, too, have a very different take on L’s methods than most of the fandom does. I would love to know your thoughts on L, Anon. Send them to me if you feel so inclined! 😊

Now before I continue, this isn’t a commentary on anyone else’s views or HCs. This is just my experience with L as a character. Please keep in mind I was a Death Note fan long before I joined the fandom, so that may be another reason why I tend to not share the same views as many others. I had already formed my thoughts on the characters before I got here.

With that being said, let’s get to it!

Misa…okay, yeah, he held her captive for over two months, blindfolded and bound in a tiny room. Sure, if this was just some average criminal, this would be excessive, but Misa was the second Kira, something he had proof of and more just kept coming in to back it up. He saw her kill without even a name, something that completely shattered his previous theory that someone with Kira’s powers needed a name and face to kill. He watched someone he worked with on a daily basis drop dead at her will. Yeah, I think blindfolding and strapping her down was warranted. He had no idea how she did what she did, he just knew she could do it from a distance. She was the killer and the weapon in a way. He had no way of knowing she needed the Death Note to commit murders. What he did was extreme, but with what he knew and what he saw? He did what he had to do to keep everyone in the building safe. Was it the best way to approach it? I guess the question is what else could he do not knowing her abilities? It was the only way he could guarantee everyone’s safety.

As for denying her water. I never took that as water was indefinitely withheld. I read that as they kept it from her for a short time, but I always thought that she refused to drink when they did give her water. I also didn’t think he never let her get up and move around unless she needed to use the facilities. She couldn’t survive those conditions for as long as she did. The body isn’t designed to be sedentary all that time and her blood would pool, etc, and she certainly couldn't survive without water. Now…to be fair… I just shrugged a lot of this off as handwave writing on Ohba’s part, because to him, it wasn’t a key element of the story he was telling, so he didn’t care to research what L was actually putting her through. I think sadly he never gave Misa’s well-being a thought and didn’t expect his readers to either.

Using death row criminals to his advantage. I personally never had an issue with this. He isn’t sentencing them to death. He is merely changing the method of execution. He chose people that were already on death row. With the thirteen day rule, one of the stipulations was to have the death sentence commuted if the prisoner survived.

I can only assume the same offer was made to Lind L. Tailor, though that is just conjecture. I think the thing here is that we see the Task Force being outraged and readers just go along with the moral high ground, not really examining what L’s reasoning is. (I can't imagine a criminal looking at a death sentence would pass up this offer. It's a chance at survival, no matter how small.) Now if he was choosing any random prisoner not awaiting execution? That’s different, but he’s not. He’s simply using that they are going to die anyway to gain information. To me, it made their deaths not be in vain, but what the hell do I know?

Now…L not caring about justice. I completely blame that on the “That Monster” speech (and its accompanying manga panels from Chapter 109), and as beautifully haunting as that is, to me, it never made sense to his character.

The whole driving force behind Death Note and L and Light’s push and pull was that they both had their own brand of what they thought justice was. To say he didn’t give a damn about justice undoes the basis of their dynamic, so no. I don’t think he doesn’t care about justice. I think he was testing the kids at Wammy’s to see if they had what it would take to be the next L, because if they still want to pursue being his successor knowing the man they’re going to replace one day had questionable reasons for doing what he did, then they would be able to handle a lot that was thrown at them. Just my opinion.

Now before I shut up about this, I want to point out that L does care...he may not be the most demonstrative or conventional with affection, but he does have a heart and a moral compass. He cares about the FBI agents dying, cares that Naomi is missing. He is affected when Ukita dies. He wants Aizawa to choose his family over the case...Just because he isn't a gush show with hearts in his eyes doesn't make him an arrogant uncaring asshole. It just means he expresses himself in his own understated way.

I mean...he's reflecting on how the FBI agents were murdered, wondering if it would have been different if he was keeping a close eye on them instead of imprisoned criminals.

He decides to show his face, something he has never done before, because of this. I don't see this as a man with no heart or morals, but hey, what do I know?

I think a lot of characterization in fandom in general comes down to something very simple. If you want to see a character as horrible, you will. If you want to see them as a hero, you will. I guess it doesn't really matter what their actions are if you view them through a certain lens. What lens should be used? Well, that's up to each of us.

Honestly, if I had seen him the way the fandom at large tends to view him, He wouldn’t be my all time favorite character.

#Death Note #L Lawliet #Asked #Answered #Anonymous #Queue

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ballodellamarlena · 3 years ago

Text

m o o n l i g h t

damiano david x reader + ex!gjon muharremaj (gjon’s tears)

genre: fluff, minimal angst

wc: 1.7k

notes: non-canonical OOC, also my first fic in a long time, this is a result of me ignoring my finals with a dash of projecting

feedback is appreciated! if you are interested in reading more i have more ideas :)

2021 just can't stop surprising.

In hindsight, it was worse for some in comparison to year prior, but life goes on.

And so does Europe's most famous song competition.

2021 just can't stop surprising. In hindsight, it was worse for some in comparison to the year prior, but life goes on. And so does Europe's most famous song competition.

2020's cancellation of Eurosong was devastating, to say the least, but now it's back and in full shine; different singers, different songs, lots of changes made. Your job as an audio technician swept you off to places you'd never thought you'd see. From concerts to musical artists in recording studios in their whole essence; the making of a song, the process fascinated you. It kind of didn't surprise you when you were accepted to be a part of Eurovision's sound squad. It was, after all, everything you've been working for.

It was not soon after Tel Aviv when you met Gjon in a recording studio, where you were temporarily stationed before departure to Rotterdam to start preparing for the next year. Gjon was a nice constant to your hectic life, always there to shine on a new perspective and always there to comfort you on your worst days. In turn, you were there during his journey to be chosen as Switzerland's contestant in 2020's Eurovision. You were there when he wrote his song about being and belonging. Your blossoming relationship became too great to ignore, and soon you became the team's sweethearts; his firm but soft composure meshing with your assertive and curious nature in the best of ways. You were not afraid to say that you knew him, and vice versa. Everything really was perfect. Until the epidemic hit.

It was like a domino effect, one thing encouraging everything else to fall apart. Being in a foreign country while it was in a state of emergency was not the most ideal, and it didn't really help your job. Your recently appointed position in Eurovision's sound squad was gone with the wind when the cancellation was announced, and so did Gjon's hard work. Tensions rose, and while your relationship was as healthy as could be, it simply wasn't enough. Or maybe it was never supposed to be something more than a prolonged period of deep infatuation between two human beings.

The departure was bittersweet, to say the least. But you knew, a year with him would never compare to anything else. You two parted gently, on a windy airport, almost ignorant to the tears in Gjon's eyes; you saw regret, pain, and fear, but you both understood that if you decided to give your all to each other before knowing what that 'all' even is, it would hurt much more.

You remember his arms around for the last time, whispering promises of sunnier days and warm reunions, the lump in his throat preventing him from promising you a better him.

You haven't been able to completely process his intentions, too keen on leaving. You were itching for something different, but everything seemed too claustrophobic in this state of the world. So you accepted the first job offer that presented itself to you and flew off to Sanremo.

"You okay?"

You turned abruptly towards Victoria, one of the band members you were here with here in Rotterdam in the middle of rehearsals and navigating through Rotterdam.

Your job offer as one of Eurovision's sound technicians still stood even throughout the epidemic but after Måneskin's success at the Sanremo Festival that granted them the first row in the finals of Eurovision you decided to stay with them, so the job kind of integrated being an official technician in charge of Italy and being their personal plus one.

You stared at Victoria with a blank stare, reminiscing the past short few months; Sanremo brought new experiences and new people. Italy's contest for the contestant at 2021's Eurovision started from square one, giving new chances.

Maybe Måneskin was just what you needed, the four of them. Victoria, Thomas, Ethan, and Damiano.

Damiano was a breath of fresh air. A breeze of fast wind. Assertive and confident. You couldn't deny it was attractive. You tried not to let his aura control your way of seeing him, but very soon you found him to be one of the best people you've ever met. You helped you express yourself more, welcomed you like family, made you see life and yourself like something more than you had originally thought. You two clicked, and between new friendships and an interesting job position you allowed them to take you with them to Rotterdam. And you did so without hesitating.

Besides, no one could deny something heavy between you and Damiano.

Back to the present, at Italy's table with the band and the delegation, Damiano comfortably sitting on your left, you stared at Victoria to your right, trying to come up with an answer when you heard it again.

"Will Switzerland's contestant please begin their rehearsal?"

And there he was, no different than that day at the airport. Last you heard about Gjon he came with a new song, after managing to keep his place as the contestant, something many preparing contestants had to give up prior to this year's competition.

You were sitting on the edge of your seat, elbows on your knees. You felt Damiano's fingers twirling one of your locks on the back of your hair, a bit uninterested to be watching somebody else's rehearsal while the band was already done with theirs.

"Yeah." you smiled lightly. There was no lie, why wouldn't you feel fine?

You felt Damiano's hand weaving with your elbow, pulling you to him, and you leaned back against the cushion, leaning your head gently against his shoulder. And if he noticed you seemed lethargic all of a sudden, he didn't say anything.

You stared intensely towards the stage, but relaxed and turned to the rest of your company after realizing this rehearsal only included the technical side of things. No song from him today.

22nd of May, 2021

Entirely skipping the semi-finals, you and your team only focused on your own band. Being one of the Big 5 was admirable, and everyone expected a show.

The clothes fit, the makeup was on, and the band was ready to enter the arena along with you and Italy's delegation. Nine pm was nearing and you were going to be sitting through all of the 26 songs, along with voting.

Songs went by fast, some fun, some less, but all were good until it was time for Switzerland. You were about to hear his new song.

Je vois derrière nous des morceaux de toi Et ce que la douleur a fait de moi

The somber tone, the lyrics. Your limited knowledge of french allowed you to understand the basic point of the song.

Nos deux cœurs sous la terre

He was still not over you.

But maybe he was but was singing about somebody else, you tried to rationalize.

Damiano squeezed your hand that you didn't even realize he was holding, you were so tense. The band was aware of your previous association with the Swiss singer, but you didn't even want to know what they were thinking about.

You only thought about the song. The melody, the words sang of his anguish, and it wasn't a bad song. You wanted so desperately to heal him but knew it was not your job to do anymore.

Comment soigner nos coeurs qui éclatent?

Your eyes made contact, and it was like going back in time. But all songs end, and so did yours.

The crowd cheered, it was a great performance. The table clapped and you watched him getting off the stage, not knowing what to think.

"It's going to be okay, carina."

That one pull you needed, and you didn't doubt anymore.

An hour and a half later, after Italy's performance, which was quite an experience, finals were coming to an end, and the voting began.

You will never get used to feeling nervous about getting results, even when you weren't the object of it. But watching Switzerland get so many points from the jury made it a whole new experience. Italy was places below and everyone was silent.

The televoting points change everything, it was unpredictable, just like the whole competition. You had Damiano's hand in your left and Ethan's in your right, squeezing them, but adrenaline prevented you to feel anything else besides your heartbeat.

You wanted them to win so bad. They worked so hard to get where they are today, and while all contestants deserved a chance, you couldn't not be a little biased.

The 318 points to Italy were a game-changer, the crowd cheered, Victoria and Thomas jumped and screamed, and Damiano pulled you up into a hug, cheering with them; they were in the first place now. Crowd's favorite, obviously.

All that was left to hear was the number of points for Switzerland.

You've got to be kidding me, you thought.

It was tension between Switzerland and Italy, and you honestly didn't know who would win. But did it really have to be the two of them?

You felt the cameras focusing and your table, And everything was silent. You felt Gjon's stare, piercing through you. But the only thing you could focus on was Damiano's skin touching yours, his fingers intertwining with yours, and you knew that no matter the outcome, everything would be okay.

But alas, the points weren't enough to overthrow Italy, and you grinned, suddenly feeling Victoria's arms around you and Damiano's tears of joy on your neck. Everyone's screams made it seem like total silence and you smiled big, proud of your friends.

You were so happy you didn't realize they were soon dragging you with them to the stage to perform once again. In fact, you never felt so happy, you even started to sing loudly with the crowd.

Damiano, in his whole element, shining with pride and glory, motioned you to the stage by the end, pulled you in, and kissed you deeply, holding you close, and silently thanking you.

You knew life wasn't always going to be this pretty, but you thought, maybe you could live in this moment for a little while longer, kissing your frontman and giving yourself completely to the blinding lights of a victorious arena.

It was time to move on.

a/n: this was so bad i'm so sorry

#damiano david #damiano maneskin #maneskin #damiano david fanfic #damiano fanfic #maneskin fanfic #fanfiction #eurovison song contest #esc 2021 #gjon muharremaj #gjon's tears #damiano david rpf #gjon muharremaj rpf

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soveryanon · 4 years ago

Text

Reviewing time for MAG197!

- I like how Basira and Jon immediately installed the setting (“Watch your step…! Long way down.” “It’s fine. The stickiness helps.”): big hole and strands of webs everywhere, funnel full of tapes going far down below, tapes probably unrolled a bit themselves, many tape recorders squeaking voices now and then and occasionally rewinding.

(I’m especially fond of the selected fragments of voice heard at the end of last episode and the tapes rewinds in this one, because it felt like a call-back to the beginning of the season, when Jon was obsessively relistening to the tapes that had been sent to him: stopping and rewinding and listening, again and again, to the fragment of Gertrude’s voice when she was telling Gerry she didn’t think it was possible to reverse an apocalypse.)

- I love that Jon&Basira are on good enough terms to share their shitty sense of humour with each other!! ;w;

(MAG197) BASIRA: Feeling better now, are we? Without those horrible sunny skies and fresh winds? ARCHIVIST: Yes, the colossal web stretching down into an endless pit is a significant improvement. BASIRA: [CHUCKLING] Don’t pretend like you’re joking.

Compared to season 4, it doesn’t sound mean-spirited anymore coming from Basira…

I also like that, same as them helping each other out on the lake in MAG195, we could hear that it was a mutual exchange – Basira ensuring that Jon wouldn’t fall into the hole by grounding him when he was getting too fascinated by it, Jon warning her about the threads. Jon was even counting on Basira to be an element of surprise, so it really felt like he indeed valued her as an ally ;_;

- I wonder if Jon looked into Martin’s head for that one, or if it’s how Martin looked like from the outside?

(MAG197) BASIRA: I’m guessing she’s waiting at the centre? ARCHIVIST: Naturally. [STATIC RISES] They both are. Martin is… he’s okay. He’s… scared, but also… frustrated.

Jon had promised to not look as long as he wasn’t in physical danger (which was precisely the case here) so…

I like how Jon pointed out that Martin was “scared”: from his exchange with Annabelle, he sounded mostly pissed, annoyed, frustrated indeed rather than afraid; he knows how to hide it!

- Jon’s fascination with the pit…

(MAG195) ARCHIVIST: No, it’s… I could look at it, but it… it was… it was like a… a hole. You know that feeling you get when you look down from a, a great height, like you’re being… pulled into the abyss? BASIRA: Kind of? ARCHIVIST: [GETTING LOST IN THOUGHT] Well, it was… was like that. Normally… I can see it, see the… webs, and feel the power of The Spider emanating from it, but… as I would look, i–i… it’s like… my mind…. follows the paths of The Web… [STATIC RISES] the strands going down and… out… [CATCHING SELF] I–it’s… [STATIC FADES] quite disorientating…!

(MAG197) ARCHIVIST: I know she has something to tell me and it… it’s about… the hole below us, her thoughts are… all down there, and… [TAPE SQUEAL] [STATIC INCREASES] And the threads are so closely woven, I–I follow them out and… in, and down, and through the strands of web and twisting tape, and down, and down, and down into the chasm into the emptiness that stretches– BASIRA: Woah! ARCHIVIST: –out– BASIRA: Woah! ARCHIVIST: –below– BASIRA: Careful! ARCHIVIST: Oh! [ARCHIVIST LOSES BALANCE BUT BASIRA STEADIES HIM] [STATIC FADES] BASIRA: Careful. ARCHIVIST: [DEEP BREATHS] … Thanks. There’s a–, sorry, there’s a s–sort of… pull to it. BASIRA: [SIGH] ARCHIVIST: Every time I get a glimpse, it, it draws me in…

… might be caused by Beholding? What is below is a complete mystery and, as Annabelle pointed out later, it probably led to many worlds (so far) untouched by the Fears: Jon’s appel du vide might as well be Beholding attracted to what is not (yet) under its dominion.

- I’m curious about the fact that Jon wasn’t able to categorically say what was the tapes’ deal:

* On the one hand, his difficulty to tell what they are does explain why he couldn’t say they were Web until now. On the other hand… there is still that nagging doubt that there could also be something else, due to Jon’s inability to confirm even now. What would happen if Jon looked at a tape not holding his voice at all, like one with Martin’s?

* Basira’s assumption had been shot down starting with MAG114 (when Jon had pointed out to Tim that he didn’t think the tapes were from Beholding) and once again reminded by Martin in MAG170 (when Martin had a moment of clarity in the Lonely house, having him point out that Beholding had “won” and so didn’t need tapes to see what was happening to them)… but I like that Basira had her own ideas about them until now, linking them to the Institute’s motto.

* I like Basira’s reminder that the tapes didn’t only record Jon’s voice, but that she was also “used” in the same way…

- I love the contrast with Jon&Basira now compared to, say, their expedition in Svalbard in season 4:

(MAG197) BASIRA: Different question, then. How do we play this one? ARCHIVIST: You get Martin to safety, then I deal with Annabelle Cane. BASIRA: Right. … I think we should hear her out first. ARCHIVIST: Excuse me? BASIRA: Before you “deal with her”, we should try to get some answers. All of this, taking Martin… she wants to talk.

Back then, Basira was the one with the gun; now, Jon is quite clearly the powerhouse… but also grounded by Basira, who remained level-headed and tried to think about why Annabelle had done things in that way, what she wanted. And at the same time: Jon had reasons to be pissed, wary and distrustful – in his own perspective, Annabelle could have talked when they were at Upton House, and welcoming him in front of Hill Top Road with Mr. Spider’s tape was clearly a low blow, already colouring this encounter with a certain dynamic (the underlying idea that The Web had touched him as a kid, was inviting him in the house to devour him, and could violate Jon’s privacy whenever it wanted).

- Jon’s fear of The Web showed once again…

(MAG150) ARCHIVIST: Melanie, could you… could you describe your therapist for me? MELANIE: [CHUCKLING] What? You think I wouldn’t notice if she had cobwebs down her face? ARCHIVIST: … No? MELANIE: [DEEP INHALE] That’s it, isn’t it? [EXHALE] You… you really think I’m so stupid I wouldn’t have noticed if my therapist was some kind of monster! ARCHIVIST: I just… It was a worry. […] It’s just… The Web can be subtle, you understand? MELANIE: And? For all you know, its plan is to paralyse you with indecision…! ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] MELANIE: Leaving you… sitting here, terrified that… everything you do is somehow all part of its Grand Plan… And who do you think that fear is gonna feed? ARCHIVIST: Yes, well. [INHALE] You are… not the first, to make that point.

(MAG167) MARTIN: You said you could control it now. ARCHIVIST: I can, I–I just… It… [INHALE] You’re absolutely right. I will refrain from knowing anything about you. […] Did you… feel like she was… influencing your mind at all? MARTIN: I don’t think so, but I mean… who knows? ARCHIVIST: I could. MARTIN: But look. She didn’t control me into asking you not to look into my head, if that’s what you’re thinking. That’s all me. ARCHIVIST: Martin, I’m not… looking for a l–loophole. MARTIN: Well, good! ‘cause this isn’t one. [SILENCE] ARCHIVIST: … Methinks the Spider doth protest too much…!

(MAG172) ARCHIVIST: I was going to suggest that… I could… maybe… “know”. I could look. Just a quick peek, to, to see if it was just curiosity, or… something else. … Well? MARTIN: I don’t… If you look, and I was… “influenced”, then how can I trust anything else? How can I believe any of my thoughts and feelings are really mine? ARCHIVIST: U–uh, well… I–I–I’ll still be here to check, I–I’m not leaving you. MARTIN: Sure, but you’d be looking through the details of everything that ever crosses my mind? I don’t want that! Y–you know I don’t want that. ARCHIVIST: … I know. [SILENCE] … Don’t do this to yourself, Martin. This is what it wants, the, the paranoia. [SIGH] Trust me, I, I know. MARTIN: … Fair.

(MAG197) ARCHIVIST: She’s had plenty of chances. She didn’t need to kidnap him. BASIRA: Sure, but maybe she… What? What’s with the look? ARCHIVIST: How are you feeling, Basira? BASIRA: [SHARPLY] Do you want to look inside my head? See if it’s full of spiders? ARCHIVIST: I… No. I’m… sorry, I–I trust you. BASIRA: How are you feeling? ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] Yes, all right, you don’t need to make a point. BASIRA: Yes I do. You’re too close to this, and I need to make sure you aren’t going to do anything dumb. Situation like this, we can’t make rash assumptions. Right? ARCHIVIST: … Right.

I like (in a heart-breaking way) how Jon’s tendency to suspect that people might be affected by The Web has been so prevalent, and shows how deeply his childhood encounter affected him. When people behave in a way he didn’t expect or for reasons he cannot immediately understand, he’s very quick to blame The Web – it’s not coming out of nowhere, since there were statements about The Web pulling strings and getting people to do things they didn’t want to do… but it also goes in the way of Jon’s decision to trust people. I like that Basira immediately understood what Jon suspected and set things straight in that regard; Martin might be Jon’s “reason”, but other people have been really good at grounding him lately, too.

- BASIRA SEES MARTIN AS A FRIEND ;w; It used to be Martin clinging to the idea…

(MAG175) MARTIN: I–I know what you meant! I can still be keen to see our friends! ARCHIVIST: … True. MARTIN: Besides, we can help them now.

(MAG176) MARTIN: And the fact that we’re hunting our friend, in a domain of The Hunt isn’t getting to you at all? Not even a little bit? [TRILL OF A BIRD] Hm? […] BASIRA: What’s something only Martin would know? MARTIN: … What?! I don’t know! BASIRA: Fine! Then… [COCKED GUN] MARTIN: No–no–no–no–no–no, wait–wait, uh, I, God, I don’t know, we’ve never hung out much! I’ve no idea what you know about me!

… and having to admit that no, they didn’t know each other much. But now, look at Basira being concerned and protective of him ;w;

(MAG197) ARCHIVIST: [INHALE] But if she hurts Martin, all bets are off. BASIRA: If she hurts Martin, I’ll be right there with you. […] Martin, are you okay? MARTIN: [MUFFLED MMHMM] BASIRA: You know, we’d probably be more willing to listen if you hadn’t kidnapped our friend?

Martin got friends………

- I wasn’t able to parse which segments there were, but I could clearly hear Jon’s and Martin’s voices playing in the background tapes when we switched to Annabelle!

I did need the transcript’s indication that Martin was tied to the chair to realise that… indeed, we hadn’t heard him get up last episode. It had creaked plenty when he had sat last episode, it would have creaked if he had had the time to get up. Congrats Martin, you spent an episode and a half sitting, this time around!

- Martin likes Jon’s voice!!

(MAG197) ANNABELLE: I thought you liked his voice? MARTIN: I do when it’s his voice. I’ve never liked the statements. It always felt… Yeah. ANNABELLE: Well… you can trust me when I say you’ll be hearing his real voice very soon.

That’s an adorable little detail <3

- I love how Martin was such a bitch with Annabelle, at the same time very honest (pointing out that his situation didn’t make it easy to get relaxed, that he was afraid about the trap set for Jon, that he had already been told about dream-logic elements, that he was second-guessing what Annabelle wanted out of this) and blowing up in annoyance.

(MAG197) ANNABELLE: [CHUCKLE] On edge, are we? MARTIN: Of course, I am! You’ve stuck me in a weird interdimensional web, and threatened to fill me with spiders! ANNABELLE: No…! I said I had “considered” filling you with spiders. MARTIN: Yeah, whatever, the point is, there was a time when it was very much your go-to option! And this one time I chose to almost trust you, you’ve immediately turned around and used me as bait!

I loved how his voice SQUEAKED with that “spiders”. Resent and remember.

Also, games, in that apocalypse?

(MGA180) MARTIN: … I–I’ll start. I spy, with my little eye, something beginning with… T– ARCHIVIST: Tombs. MARTIN: … Cheater. ARCHIVIST: [INDIGNANT] I did not! MARTIN: … Your turn. [BAG JOSTLING] ARCHIVIST: Fine. I spy, with my little eye… Literally everything. [MARTIN LAUGHS] [THE ARCHIVIST LAUGHS] [A NEARBY TOMB LAUGHS] [LAUGHTER STOPS WITH TENSE SIGHS]

(MAG197) ANNABELLE: We could play a game? MARTIN: Uhhh… [SIGH] ANNABELLE: Twenty questions? Animal, vegetable or mineral? MARTIN: [SIGH] Animal. Does it have eight legs? Yes. Is it a spider? Yes. Oh, look, I win.

Never quite working.

- I loved Annabelle’s back-and-forth regarding Martin’s potential for The Web: at first saying that he could have been a good fit for it, then that no, he’s too impatient, then that ah, maybe his talent for interpreting the vibrations meant that he had something in him. It’s everything and its contrary, and it allows her to… always be right.

(But it cracks me up so much that the argument for anti-Web Martin basically came down to Martin being too ranty and impatient. I love Martin.)

- Sob about the set-up because:

(MAG197) ANNABELLE: … You don’t need to worry about Jon. MARTIN: You’re literally luring him into a trap. This trap. This one right here! [MARTIN MOTIONS AND TWANGS THE WEB, SETTING OFF STRONG REVERBERATIONS] ANNABELLE: Please don’t do that. Technically… yes. This is a trap. But the only one in actual danger is going to be me. If he chooses to kill me, I can’t stop him. Not even here. And you’re not bait, you’re just… an invitation.

Yeah, sure, an “invitation” when you’ve put the Mr. Spider tape right near the house to welcome Jon is an absolutely neutral and mundane “invitation”. It’s not flexing or trying to traumatise your guest even before he entered the house.

- Annabelle, PLEASE.

* Things that are absolutely horrifying regarding The Web: the way it often targeted children. Mr. Spider was a picture book and got into Jon’s hands when he was eight (and given how Jon initially thought that the book was “insulting” his intelligence… it might have preyed upon even younger children if left unchecked). Annabelle had described her own Web encounter as a kid. Ray was taking care of children and preparing them for his god.

* It also tied nicely with another leitmotiv with The Web: the fact that it is invested in performances and artistic displays (a movie in MAG110, Neil Lagorio’s own original cuts and his last wish of dancing in MAG136, Francis’s theatre play in MAG172) – Annabelle was all about this, making various references to the fact that she was staging the whole scene.

* That “These things rarely do” reminds me of what she had mentioned last episode, that “You can’t be precious about a single strand”: how many discarded plans and ideas have there been to ensure that she would be right and/or that she would get her pieces where and when she needed? It’s not that The Web feels infallible – it’s that it seems to multiply its efforts to make sure that at least one would work out.

- I got the impression that Martin feeling that Jon and Basira were coming happened at the same time as Basira brushing the strands early on, hence Jon’s comment over it:

(MAG197) [BASIRA BRUSHES AGAINST A STRAND WHICH THRUMS AND ECHOES, AND THE CADENCE OF BUZZING SOUNDS CHANGE AS TAPE SQUEALS WITH THE REVERBERATIONS] BASIRA: Sorry…! ARCHIVIST: … It’s okay. She already knew I was here, I just… I hoped we might be able to sneak you in. […] MARTIN: W–, yeah, well– [CHITTERING, BUZZING AND TAPE SQUEALS CHANGE CADENCE] Wait… Wait, hang on… is that him? ANNABELLE: Yes! I guess you’re better with The Web than we thought. MARTIN: And… Wait, ha–, no, uh… Is that… Basira? He–he’s got Basira with him! ANNABELLE: Yes. I did wonder if that would be the case. Interesting. And unfortunate for me. That’s two heads we’ll need to keep cool. My odds aren’t looking good.

So it gave us a nice perspective on who was talking about what when!

I’m surprised that Annabelle indeed only discovered it at that moment – meaning that if Basira hadn’t touched the threads, she wouldn’t have known she was there… although she had been recorded more than once since Jon had left London. Web is not omniscient, uh.

- Annabelle’s taste for theatrics was hilarious, and Martin sarcastically following her request by trying out postures of the Main Love Interest In Distress And Held Hostage was incredible. Martin, PLEASE.

(I wonder if she spat in his mouth, to gag him? Where did that thread come from.)

- It still amuses me how dry Jon can sound in front of avatars, while he’s way more emotional (soft, annoyed, amused, desperate sometimes) in front of Martin! He really adapts his presence to the people in front of him, in this new world.

- Love how Basira pointed out that Jon shouldn’t do anything rash… and then he immediately went for a smiting attempt when he saw that Martin was positioned in a dangerous and precarious situation.

- Jon’s new “Fuck” means that he’s now The Biggest Sayer Of Fuck in the series!

(MAG154) ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] [SOFTLY BUT WITH FEELING] … Fuck.

(MAG158) DAISY: Oh, shit! ARCHIVIST: You gotta be fucking kidding m–

(MAG166) ARCHIVIST: Yes! Ashamed of the fact that I… destroyed the world and have been rewarded for it; the fact that… I can walk safe through all this horror I’ve created like a fucking tourist, destroying whoever I please; the fact that I… enjoyed it, and… the fact that there are… so many others, that I still want to revenge myself on! [EXHALE]

(MAG197) ARCHIVIST: “Free will,” she says, as we stand in the middle of her fucking web!

Martin (MAG154), Melanie (MAG131) and the Inspector (MAG185) are at 1; Trevor was at 2 (MAG176); Tim was at 3 (MAG065, MAG080, MAG104); Basira is at 3 (MAG148, MAG177, MAG178)… and now Jon takes the lead with four ;w; Who would have thought, when listening to episode 1!

(If taking “shit” into account: Martin explodes the counter because of his litanies in MAG163 and MAG179.)

- Oh Martin…

(MAG197) ANNABELLE: He came of his own free will. MARTIN: [MUFFLED POINT OF CONTENTION] ARCHIVIST: “Free will,” she says, as we stand in the middle of her fucking web! ANNABELLE: [LAUGH] A fair point! But that’s a debate for another time. I simply mean I did not bring him here through force, threat or false pretence. I made an offer, and he agreed. ARCHIVIST: Martin, is this true? [TAPE SQUEALS] MARTIN: [MUFFLED ATTEMPTED EXPLANATION, FOLLOWED BY MUFFLED SIGH AND MUFFLED AGREEMENT] BASIRA: Told you. ARCHIVIST: We’ll talk about it later. Once you’re safe.

I love how we could indeed tell his emotions at the moment, at first objecting, then slowly having to concede.

There is still a tiny possibility that Annabelle still pulled a string and made Martin keener to follow her, but I don’t feel like that would be necessary – the point was that he was out of options, that Annabelle had dangled the fact that she had one, and offered to give it while simultaneously threatening to not ever share it if Martin didn’t immediately come with her (as it was explained last episode). Of course, in retrospect, it sounds like Annabelle/The Web needs them more than they need it… but the point was that Martin was lacking options, that Jon was seriously thinking about replacing Jonah as Beholding’s pupil the last time they had talked (which would have meant: for Martin, still being stuck as a Watcher, so still planning to die rather than feeding on people’s suffering), and that Martin is “as bad” as Jon when it comes to self-sacrifice, as Also!Martin had pointed out. I like that Basira had been able to guess that Martin had probably made the choice to follow Annabelle, while Jon… apparently stayed stuck to his perception of The Web as a big manipulator which compels and forces people to do things all the time, without taking detours or subtler approaches.

- Regarding Annabelle’s “lesson” on the Fears, I like how it began on familiar territories, since it roughly followed Gertrude’s own perception of the Fears:

(MAG197) ARCHIVIST: … Fine. Speak your piece. Tell us about your… “way out”. ANNABELLE: As you wish. … The Great Fears, do you believe they think the way we do? ARCHIVIST: They don’t “think” at all. They just are. ANNABELLE: Almost true. In truth, it depends on the Fear. [TAPE SQUEALS] Some exist in an eternal moment, some make use of memory to reflect and corrupt, but for most, time is simply another thing for them to play with. To consider the future, to plan, is not something they’re capable of. ARCHIVIST: But not The Web? ANNABELLE: No. Not the Mother-of-Puppets, the Spinner-of-Schemes. BASIRA: Hang on. What about the rituals? Those were plans. ARCHIVIST: No. [INHALE] They were… desires, filtered and interpreted by people and the thinking creatures that they spawned. ANNABELLE: You are well informed, aren’t you? Exactly this.

(MAG145) ARTHUR: You never had to second-guess a god. ‘Cause that’s what it comes down to, isn’t it? We feel Its joy and Its… anger; It warps us, and changes us, and feeds on us, though not in the ways we expect. The one thing It never does is just… tell us what to do. It seeds us with this… aching, impossible desire to change the world, to bring It to us. Then, It leaves us to guess and bicker and fight over how the hell you can actually do it. … If it’s possible. Sometimes, I think They understand us as… little as we understand Them. We don’t think like They do. GERTRUDE: I’m not actually convinced they “think” at all. ARTHUR: You might be right. But Agnes did.

The idea that avatars had no clear idea about what they were doing had been confirmed by Simon in MAG151, so that wasn’t new. It did colour all of Annabelle’s speech, however, since she argued that The Web was different due to its own way of functioning and she was judge and party in that regard – isn’t she precisely projecting what she thinks The Web is to give it intention, when it’s perfectly possible that “The Web’s plan” might have been mostly inherited through its agents throughout history?

- Confirmation that Oliver might have said the truth in MAG168 about the fact that The End’s domains ultimately had to deliver a genuine death (or, well: confirmation that Jon was convinced that it was saying the truth). And Basira hadn’t been there back then, hence why she needed a bit more information:

(MAG169) ARCHIVIST: “When Danika Gelsthorpe reaches the end of her Corpse Root, she will die. This new world of Fear reviles death as a release, but the Coming End cannot exist without its reality. It is not a being of dangled promises and shifting torments; the certainty of death waits for all who travel the Corpse Roots, and that certainty… will be delivered on, without hesitation or consideration of any other factors. […] The others may take what actions they wish; they may plot and plan and tear themselves apart in an attempt to separate from the fate that they know they cannot escape; but they will fail. The currents of perception and reality may twist in whatever shapes they want; but none of them can ever render things truly eternal. […] I am too much of my patron now and my feelings cannot help but reflect the shadows of… anticipation that lurk within the grave. The End does not fear its own cessation, for it is the certainty and promise of all life, however strange, that it will one day finish, and that includes its own stark existence. […] All – things – end, and every step you take, whatever direction you may choose… only brings you closer to it.”

(MAG197) ANNABELLE: But only two of them could truly conceive of such. Terminus, The End, knows that in such a world they will ultimately consume themselves. And it desires that finality. ARCHIVIST: [REALISING] And The Web understands it as well. That eventually a successful ritual would doom them all. Leave them trapped and starving in a used-up world with no-one to feed on. BASIRA: Hang on, what? This is news to me. ARCHIVIST: We passed a death domain, of The End. The victims there do actually die, meaning even though it would take… I don’t know how long, eventually The End will claim everyone and everything. It’s inevitable.

Damnit, it means that Peter had kiiiiind of been right in season 4 when he had explained to Martin that The Web and The End didn’t appear interested in trying to achieve their rituals:

(MAG134) PETER: There are two Powers that, to my knowledge, have never attempted to fully manifest, never had followers set them up for a ritual: Mother-of-Puppets, and Terminus. The Web, and The End. The Web, I’ve never really been sure about: if I were to guess, I would say it actually prefers the world as is, playing everyone against each other, and so on. The End, on the other hand… The End doesn’t really need one: it knows that it gets everything eventually, so why bother. The End manifesting would not be a new world of terror; it would be a lifeless world. Devoid of everything. MARTIN: … Including fear.

The End was indeed fine with anything, while The Web indeed preferred the world as is – because it had an inkling that rituals would lead to the Fears’ own annihilation. Given how Annabelle pointed out how the escape route had been worked on for so long, I wonder if it had really understood that a successful ritual needed to bring all the Fears into the world a long time ago… or if not at all, and it was, until then, planning an escape in case any of the Fears were to succeed on its own.

- Web!Jonah, Web!Jonah, Web!Jonah.

(MAG197) ANNABELLE: And knowing this, knowing for centuries you would eventually be trapped, doomed to starvation, what would you do? [LONG CONSIDERED PAUSE] ARCHIVIST: … Plan an escape. ANNABELLE: Just so. […] ARCHIVIST: So The Web, it wants to spread? To escape into new realities? ANNABELLE: Yes. But not alone. Any attempt to separate the Fears is ultimately doomed, as you well know.

(MAG160, Jonah Magnus) “Why does a man seek to destroy the world? It’s a simple enough answer: for immortality, and power. Uninspired, perhaps, but – my God! The discovery, not simply of the dark and horrible reality of the world in which you live, but that you would quite willingly doom that world and confine the billions in it to an eternity of terror and suffering, all to ensure your own happiness; to place yourself beyond pain, and death, and fear. […] I am to be a king of a ruined world, and I shall never die. […] Beyond that, I was getting older, and mortality began to weigh more heavily on my mind. How much in this world is done because we fear death, the last and greatest terror?”

The way Annabelle presented it, The Web shared the same logic as Jonah and took the same horrible decision about it: desiring self-preservation, fearing their own end, fearing that others would doom them… and instead of taking active measures to ensure that no doom would happen, they chose to cause it themselves to be in control of it. Jonah could have gone on spending many more centuries body-hopping once he understood that other rituals would never work anyway, but he chose to work on this ritual thinking it would grant him domination and control over the result; and likewise, The Web could have worked to ensure no Jonah-like person would cause the big ritual… but chose instead to actively help him, to cause the apocalypse, thus dooming itself if Jon doesn’t help to make them hop into another world to contaminate it. Same fear of death, same thirst for control, same selfish thought process.

As mentioned above: given how Annabelle might have selected her information, I wonder if The Web had known for a long while that individual rituals wouldn’t work, or if it had discovered that fairly recently, alongside Jonah. It’s possible that the escape route had initially been planned for The Web itself and solely itself in case one of the other Fears succeeded, then The Web discovered that the Dread Powers couldn’t be separated and slightly changed its plan by accepting that all the Fears would need to be yeeted into the passage together?

- I can’t believe we now can answer “What does the Spider want?!”.

It does explain why The Web seemed to ensure Jon’s survival and support Jonah’s plan (Jonah even acknowledged the latter in his letter), and why Annabelle still wanted something out of Jon&Martin although the apocalypse had already happened. It also answered Jon’s own question from the trailer about the tape recorder:

(Season 5 trailer) ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] … What? What do you want? … The world is…! It’s over. You’ve won. What can you possibly still need to hear?

His question had even been followed by a “knock-knock” joke. It really felt like a Mr. Spider reference.

Regarding the tapes: it was indeed right to link them to The Web! I remember that pre-season 4, upon listening to the series for the first time, I was convinced that they were Web, but I had begun to doubt in season 4 because of a potential slight nuance: The Web was using the tapes, it didn’t necessarily mean that it was the thing listening behind the tape recorder. What I did not expect, and am delighted about, is that The Web required the tapes to exist as a hook for its plans:

(MAG197) ANNABELLE: We found the one we believed most likely to bring about their manifestation. We marked him young, guided his path as best we could. And then, we took his voice. ARCHIVIST: No… ANNABELLE: His, and those he walked with. We inscribed them on shining strands of word and meaning, and used them to weave a web which cast itself out through the gate and beyond our universe. So that when the Fears heard that voice, and came in their terrible glory, they might then travel out along it. [TAPE SQUEALS] Or be dragged. BASIRA: Is she talking about the tapes? ARCHIVIST: Yes. […] Do both at the same time, and… for just a moment, all that power rushes through their only remaining connection with reality: the tapes. ANNABELLE: And they would be swept along by it, dragged out of our realities, and into new ones…

And now I wonder about the reasons why the statements didn’t work on Jon’s computer in (and before) season 1, leading him to use the tape recorders. It had been pointed out in MAG065 that tapes were technically digital too, that the difference between a computer and a tape recorder wasn’t a matter of analogue vs. digital, so why did the statements resist computer recording? With the new information: it might have been simply that The Web was making Jon’s computer crash to push him to find another solution for his recordings – Jon indeed ended up relying on the tape recorder (found covered in cobwebs; spotted by Tim first according to the TMA liveshow, and then found back by Sasha according to MAG162’s tape).

Did The Web mostly require a story for their plan? The statements contain bits of Fears, some of Jon&co’s encounters were supernatural, but not everything that was caught on tapes was dealing with fear – we’ve had very mundane exchanges and conversations that did not contain anything supernatural. It, of course, asks the question of whether an audience in-universe is listening to the tapes that have been reordered chronologically: have the tapes already been sent into another world, with or without the Fears coming with them? The current labels on episodes are presented as “Case ########–xx”, a sign that time is not as reliable but that there is still a chronological and logical progression to follow. I wonder if the last episode will go back to having a date-based file number like episodes used to have (MAG160’s, “Case #0181810”, being the last one).

- The problem with Archivists really is their voices, uh? Gertrude and Jon both needed to read the statements aloud to feed Beholding, and the Black Forest tomb had the “For The Silence” coin. I’m a bit curious about whether the Fears would truly follow the tapes because they contain Jon’s voice… if Jon, with that original voice, is staying behind? Wouldn’t he need to go with the tapes, or to be deprived of his voice, for that plan to work?

- Annabelle’s offer was a bit more complex than redirecting their full apocalypse to another world, which I feared, instead presenting it as another world being subjected to this one’s previous and less intense fate… but I’m extremely glad that Jon immediately pointed out that it would likely mean a complete repeat of what their own world had experienced, apocalypse included eventually:

(MAG197) BASIRA: What are you saying? ARCHIVIST: … We can pass them our apocalypse. MARTIN: [MUFFLED DISCOMFITED REALISATION] ANNABELLE: Nothing so extreme. In these new worlds, they would exist as they used to in ours, lurking just beyond the threshold. ARCHIVIST: Until someone is stupid enough to release them there as well. ANNABELLE: Perhaps. Even the Mother cannot see the future. Only try to shape it. ARCHIVIST: And so they spread through realities like a disease. ANNABELLE: Perhaps. ARCHIVIST: … I won’t do it.

Jon even kept using the verb “spread” (“So The Web, it wants to spread?”, “for the Fears to spread into these new worlds”, “And so they spread through realities like a disease”) which really highlighted what it was: not a trade-off, not an equivalent exchange, but really allowing the Fears to possibly impact many other worlds to save theirs, causing way more victims in the process.

I like how it also put another perspective on the Mr. Spider tape welcoming Jon at the end of MAG195, ending with the “MR. SPIDER WANTS MORE”: in the same way, The Web is precisely trying to get more than what it used to have (from affecting one world to potentially hurting many more).

- I am curious about what would individually happen to avatars with that plan:

(MAG197) BASIRA: What happens to you if they escape? What happens to us? We’ve all been touched by them. ANNABELLE: I would either travel with them, or I would die. I do not know which. My life is only sustained by The Web. Most would simply lose whatever power they have been gifted. Jon would lose much of himself, the parts of him that are The Eye. But he would survive. And perhaps, more importantly, he would remain who he believes himself to be.

Would Simon turn to dust due to his old age? Would Arthur become inanimate wax? Would Oliver die (since he already died once)? Or would they be simply left in their current body? Annabelle is indeed a special case since it was pointed out many times that her head never healed from the injury during the experiments (MAG069) and is stitched with cobwebs – it’s possible that her “life is only sustained by The Web” in a strictly literal life-support manner, unrelated to her avatar status.

… I’m concerned about many caveats regarding Jon: Annabelle, what is your definition of “survive”? And what does Jon “believe himself to be” at this point? Jon had pointed out that he was intrinsically tied to Beholding by now, and that he doubted that Beholding leaving this world would mean good things for him:

(MAG191) MARTIN: Jon. If… When we defeat The Eye, the Fears… What happens to you? [SILENCE] ARCHIVIST: Nothing good. I think it depends on what actually happens. If we figure out a way to defeat them, banish them somehow, kick them out of our reality and back to where they came from, I might… survive? I think I’d stay more or less like this; w–weaker, but fundamentally… still an avatar in a world where the Fears are… once again lurking on the edges. MARTIN: … But I assume that’s the best case scenario? ARCHIVIST: Depends on your point of view, I guess. In the long term all we’d have done is… bought some more time. … If, however, we… find a way to destroy or, uh… eliminate the Powers… I’m not going to be okay. There’s… too much of me that’s part of The Eye now. I don’t… know what would be left of me without it. Maybe I just… die. Maybe I survive, but I–I lose… something. My identity? My mind? My… memories? I don’t know.

Which is making me suspicious of what Annabelle is saying, since she seems to go in the exact same direction as what Jon thought might happen to him in the “best” case scenario of the Fears disappearing but him not dying right away.

- Alright, it does clear up what I didn’t understand in Annabelle’s previous plan regarding Jon&Martin’s relationship, and the reason why she discarded it!

(MAG196) MARTIN: Okay, let’s try a different question. What was your plan? ANNABELLE: I was going to snatch you away. Lure you both into this web, and then take you. Drive him to despair, so that when you returned to him, bulging and talking in a thousand tiny voices, it would drive him to a final push. MARTIN: … And now? ANNABELLE: [SIGH] Your bond is too complicated. I couldn’t drive that kind of rift between you now. I’ve considered every angle, examined every cause and effect, and have finally come to the conclusion that I… [SIGH] I need to tell you the truth. To explain things.

She might have initially planned to pressure Jon to go along with her plan by spider-ing Martin, since it would have meant saving him once the Powers would have left (instead of it being a permanent process). However, their “bond is too complicated” for that plan now because they talked and made a promise about not dooming the world in exchange for the other’s safety:

(MAG191) ARCHIVIST: Martin, when the time comes, I need you to promise me that you won’t try to stop me. MARTIN: … I promise. I love you, Jon. ARCHIVIST: [FOND HUFF] I love you too. MARTIN: But I’m not going to doom the world over it. ARCHIVIST: … Thank you. MARTIN: [INHALE] And you have to promise me that you’re going to do everything in your power to live. That you’re not going to… sacrifice yourself at the first opportunity, just because you feel guilty about what happened. ARCHIVIST: [BREATH] … I promise.

(… Well. Martin had promised to not doom the world over Jon. Jon himself had not done the same.)

It might be what caused Annabelle to change plans: before, she might have thought that Jon would have done anything to save Martin, including throwing the Fears into other worlds without any hesitation; but since that conversation, she might have been fearing that Jon would have refused to doom other worlds for the sake of Martin’s well-being.

- Although Jon apparently immediately interpreted it as Basira being likely to go Annabelle’s way…

(MAG197) BASIRA: … How would we do it? ARCHIVIST: Basira! BASIRA: We need to know, Jon.

… she really felt, to me, like she was trying to get all the information they needed to be able to manoeuvre with it all afterwards. Same as at the beginning of the episode, she gave me the impression that she was trying to stay in control while ensuring Martin wouldn’t get hurt (not being too antagonistic towards Annabelle, and getting her to talk), but it didn’t sound like she was approving.

- OKAY for Annabelle’s plan:

(MAG197) ANNABELLE: It’s very simple. Destroy the Archives, and cut out The Eye’s pupil. BASIRA: [SARCASTIC] Oh, is that all? ANNABELLE: Simultaneously. MARTIN: [MUFFLED DESPONDENCY] ARCHIVIST: I see. Destroy the Panopticon, and you release its power. Kill Jonah, and you cut the connection between the Fears and the world. Do both at the same time, and… for just a moment, all that power rushes through their only remaining connection with reality: the tapes. ANNABELLE: And they would be swept along by it, dragged out of our realities, and into new ones… BASIRA: And how exactly are we supposed to destroy the Archives?

* It kind of explains why she waited for them to reach London first before making them come to Hill Top Road: they needed to see for themselves that the tunnels had been mostly insulated from the apocalypse, and what state Jonah was in. (Plus, making it sink in that no, “killing Jonah” wouldn’t solve anything, so waiting for them to be a bit more desperate for another option).

* I’m… worried about the fact that Annabelle specifically stated that they needed to destroy “the Archives” but that Jon translated it into “the Panopticon”. Is it the same thing by now? We haven’t seen the Archives when we were in London – what did the statements and documents turn into?

* … And relatedly: Jonah had introduced the idea that Jon was “the Archive”. Is it really about destroying the Panopticon, or is it about destroying Jon…

(* It also explained why Annabelle had found “reassuring” that Martin was worried about victims on their way to Hill Top Road, since her plan relied on them agreeing to throw other worlds under the bus to save these people from this world. If they didn’t care much about random victims all around here… then they would be even less likely to accept her solution.)

- It reminds me that we still haven’t been told what is Jon’s domain and what is Annabelle’s domain. Annabelle’s could be Hill Top Road, but it was never stated! As for Jon, his only indication was that Martin&him had been walking “towards it” during their first journey towards London, so it could be the Panopticon itself… but we don’t know for sure either. What happens, when you destroy someone’s domain? (We have the case of Helen-the-Distortion, who was her own domain in a way… and it seems to have destroyed it entirely in her case.)

- HECK YEAH for the gas main not being done with /o/

(MAG161) GERTRUDE: [SHARPLY] We’re wasting time. Do you still have the Ruskin book? LEITNER: I do. Though I don’t relish the thought of using it. Makes it rather hard to breathe, like your chest– GERTRUDE: You know– LEITNER: –is being… GERTRUDE: –the gas main, little way out in the tunnel? LEITNER: I do. GERTRUDE: I need you to move it. LEITNER: I, hum… That’s… I mean, that’s not just earth, there’s pipework and all sorts of– GERTRUDE: Find a way. I need it to be directly under the Institute, or… at least, closer. LEITNER: I’m more likely to rupture it and fill the place with gas. GERTRUDE: Hm! That would also be acceptable. LEITNER: Hm… I’ll do what I can. When do you need it? [RUSTLING OF CLOTHES] 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. LEITNER: Right… What are you going to do? GERTRUDE: Paper burns well. [GURGLING LIQUID] Petrol burns… better. LEITNER: Aha! I always forget about your pyromaniac streak.

(MAG068) ARCHIVIST: Supplemental. I’m in the tunnels. I was exploring and I got lost. I haven’t gone down any of the stairs and I– I think I’m still under the Institute. There were a couple of spiders, so I changed routes and found, I think it’s a gas main. Must be for the whole building.

(MAG197) BASIRA: And how exactly are we supposed to destroy the Archives? ANNABELLE: Many years ago, a draughtsman made an unfortunate and egregious error on certain city planning documents. As a result, an unusually large and dangerous gas main just happened to be constructed directly below the building you knew as the Magnus Institute, in a place where it would be protected by the tunnels of Robert Smirke, unchanged by the world’s reformation. [TAPE SQUEALS] You need only ignite it. ARCHIVIST: “Ignite it”? ANNABELLE: Indeed! And it just so happens that the perfect tool was once delivered to you as a token of appreciation. Though you really do need to learn to keep better care of it. Somehow, it always seems to slip your mind, doesn’t it? ARCHIVIST: What…? BASIRA: Jon, it’s that stupid lighter of yours.

I had been surprised that it had been narratively brought back at the beginning of the season clarifying why it was there – Gertrude had asked Leitner to bring it closer to the Institute, which is why Jon had seen it in season 2 (… while fleeing because of spiders… in the episode right before the one he heard of Annabelle Cane for the first time…), and it was still hanging out there.

Annabelle never confirmed whether or not she had been the one who had sent tapes alongside the package containing Jonah’s statement, but it really feels like she was trying to prepare Jon to the idea of burning the Archive down, since all the tapes (and the beginning of the statement Jonah used to cover his) had mentioned fire in some way.

(MAG160) MARTIN: Still, she did manage to talk them out of burning the whole place to the ground? Oh, ah! Actually, that reminds me. Hum… [PAPER RUSTLES] ARCHIVIST: Ah! These, these are the… statements. MARTIN: Uh, yes. Basira said last week she’d send some up as soon as the Archives weren’t a crime scene. ARCHIVIST: Yes… MARTIN: And she wasn’t sure which ones you’d read already, so she–she just said she’d send a bunch. [CLATTERING SOUNDS] ARCHIVIST: There’s… tapes in here, as well. D… did she say anything about tapes? MARTIN: She… didn’t mention it? But… I–I didn’t check it until after the call. ARCHIVIST: Mm. MARTIN: I assume it’s her attempt at a… a–a “varied diet”? Eating your greens, you know? ARCHIVIST: [CHUCKLE] Probably! I’m sure it will work fine.

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

(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) 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– 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…!

(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!”

(Adding to Rosa Meyer’s attempt to burn the building in MAG060, Gertrude likely destroying the Archives under Alexandria by blowing up a gas main in MAG053…)

So: whatever Annabelle said, Jon could lend it some credence since he had seen the gas main and knows where it is; he knows why it’s so close to the Institute; he knows it used to be part of Gertrude’s plan to take down Elias/Jonah in March 2015. Whether Jon will pursue that plan or not, we know what it meant narratively, same with the lighter.

It’s also really interesting that what Annabelle offered used to be exactly Gertrude’s plan:

(MAG080) LEITNER: I believe it was Elias. ARCHIVIST: What? Why? LEITNER: I assume he discovered we were planning to destroy the Archives. ARCHIVIST: Gertrude was going to destroy the Archives?

… and it’s exactly when Elias had strike and killed her. Did a spider whisper to his ear that it was way too soon to blow up the building?

(WHICH WOULD HAVE PREVENTED THIS APOCALYPSE, BY GETTING RID OF JONAH, WHO HAD JUST UNDERSTOOD WHAT HE NEEDED TO DO TO MAKE IT HAPPEN.)

- The lighter reveal was just comedy gold, and I’m so glad that the reccurring thing with “Jon isn’t able to pay attention to the lighter and tends (/is compelled) to change the subject when it’s brought up” led to this.

(MAG037) TIM: 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? TIM: Ah no. No. ARCHIVIST: Well… show it to the others, see what they think.

(MAG039) SASHA: So why hasn’t it gone off? 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? Anyway, it shouldn’t be necessary.

(MAG079) TIM: But he’s going to do something, and it’s going to be bad. And I don’t mean like “sneaking a cigarette” bad. Like properly bad.

(MAG111) GERARD: Nice lighter. You a spider freak, then? ARCHIVIST: What? Oh! Er, n–no. I–I, I never really, uh… I never really thought of it. I–I’m Jon. I’m with the Magnus Institute. … I–I’m the Archivist.

(MAG136) DAISY: [SCOFF] She’s… Web. Spider’s sneaky like that. [PAUSE] Like that lighter you’re always using. Where’d you get that? ARCHIVIST: Mm. [STATIC RISES] Good point. We should keep our eyes open. [STATIC FADES] Anyway, how’s Basira doing?

(MAG162) MARTIN: 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? […] We’re not even gonna try? We, we’ve got your lighter, maybe we could just– ARCHIVIST: We can’t fight the world, Martin.

(MAG197) ARCHIVIST: “Ignite it”? ANNABELLE: Indeed! And it just so happens that the perfect tool was once delivered to you as a token of appreciation. Though you really do need to learn to keep better care of it. Somehow, it always seems to slip your mind, doesn’t it? ARCHIVIST: What…? BASIRA: Jon, it’s that stupid lighter of yours. ARCHIVIST: [INDIGNANT] My what? I… [STATIC RISES] [PULLS THE GOLD LIGHTER WITH EMBOSSED SPIDERWEB FROM POCKET AND FLICKS IT OPEN] Oh? … Oh. [STATIC FADES]

Sasha remembered it, Tim had commented on Jon trying to discreetly smoke (though that might have been a figure of speech?), Gerry had first assumed that Jon was with the Spider because of it, Daisy had directly asked about the lighter and Jon had redirected the conversation elsewhere, Martin had pointed out at the beginning of this season that Jon still had that lighter with him… and now, Basira revealed that she had noticed it too. The static in MAG136 had made it clear that it wasn’t Jon’s fault, that he was likely supernaturally compelled to not think too long about the lighter, but I love that silly moment, that “My WHAT?! =<= … oh” was one of Jon’s best moments. ever.

- I really wonder whether Annabelle’s reaction was sincere when Jon threatened to let the lighter fall into the hole:

(MAG197) ARCHIVIST: I see. So… [FLICKS LIGHTER SHUT] If I were to throw it away– ANNABELLE: [GASP] ARCHIVIST: –into your little pit… MARTIN: [MUFFLED WORRY] ANNABELLE: [CAREFULLY] I would advise against that. ARCHIVIST: Oh, would you? BASIRA: Jon, she still has Martin. MARTIN: [MUFFLED REMINDER] [TENSE STAND-OFF] ARCHIVIST: Fine! … Fine.

* Jon going for the throat, taunting and threatening and relishing the power he thinks he has is terrifying but also incredibly hot. That condescension…! (And it kind of made a twisted parallel with Annabelle’s discussion with Martin earlier, when she defended that she had once thought about filling him with spiders but discarded that plan. It’s not the same power dynamic, but it still shows that… now, Jon knows how to handle the avatar-game better, and to revel in the power he can have over other terrible beings.)

* … What would have happened exactly? It can’t be just that it would have meant that Jon would have lost his way of igniting the gas main – that could be easily replaced by anything, getting a spark wouldn’t be hard and they have some supplies. What would have happened, if the Web artefact had been thrown into the pit…? Would it have deprived The Web of some of its power, would it have contaminated another world…? Why was Annabelle suddenly that tense over it…?

- Another JonMartin hug ;w;

(MAG159) MARTIN: [DISTANT, VOICE ECHOING] I see… [INHALE] I see you, Jon. [BREATHLESS CHUCKLE] [PRESENT, ECHO FADES] I see you…! ARCHIVIST: Oh, Martin… [FABRIC RUSTLES] MARTIN: [FRANTIC BREATHING] I w–I was on my own…! I was all on my own… ARCHIVIST: Not anymore. Come on – let’s go home…

(Season 5 trailer) MARTIN: You know I’m here for you. ARCHIVIST: [LONG SIGH] … Yes. Yes I do. [RUSTLING OF CLOTHES] MARTIN: All right. All right.

(MAG170) ARCHIVIST: Oh, Martin! Thank god, I, I was… I–I thought you were behind me. [FABRIC RUSTLES] MARTIN: I thought you’d left me behind…! Gone on without me.

(MAG177) ARCHIVIST: … I’m sorry. [SILENCE] MARTIN: [SIGH] It’s okay. I understand. [BAG JOSTLING] [FABRIC RUSTLES] BASIRA: Urgh… [SILENCE] You done?

(MAG183) ARCHIVIST: If you’re sure. MARTIN: … I’m sure I love you. [FOOTSTEPS] ARCHIVIST: I love you too. [FABRIC RUSTLES] Let’s go.

(MAG187) ARCHIVIST: [GROGGY] Oh. Martin, good! [BAG JOSTLING] [FABRIC RUSTLES] MARTIN: Wh–, wh–wh–what happened? Th–th–there was the hotel and then…

(MAG191) ARCHIVIST: Sorry. Not something I can help, I’m afraid…! MARTIN: No, I, I know, I know. I’m sorry, it’s okay. [SIGH] [FABRIC RUSTLES] ARCHIVIST: … Bad dream? […] Maybe I survive, but I–I lose… something. My identity? My mind? My… memories? I don’t know. [FABRIC RUSTLES AS THEY EMBRACE] MARTIN: [LONG EXHALE]

(MAG197) MARTIN: [COUGHING AND SPLUTTERING] Jon…! ARCHIVIST: Martin! [FABRIC RUSTLES] MARTIN: … Oh god, I’m sorry, I– ARCHIVIST: It’s fine. MARTIN: I didn’t realise that– ARCHIVIST: We’ll talk later.

(MAG159 was confirmed by Alex, and MAG187 wasn’t marked in the transcript but I definitely hear it!)

;_; Every time, I wonder if it will be the last one… but I’m kind of expecting a big, biiig dramatic hug for the last one so… not there yet.

- I come out of this episode still not knowing exactly what to think about Annabelle – it sounded like her last appearance (“Very well. We shall not see each other again, Archivist. But I eagerly await your decision.”), though it doesn’t mean we wouldn’t hear about her.

My feeling from this episode is that she’s mostly… a sort of vessel of The Web, a puppet herself (her use of “we” sounded like she was the spokeswoman of a greater conscience), and I don’t know what is left of who-she-used-to-be – contrarily to other avatars, she didn’t seem to cast much value in her own self-preservation, since she did point out multiple times that it wouldn’t matter if she got killed in the process of The Web’s plan as long as she delivered its message to Jon first. I’m crossing fingers for something more about Annabelle herself because… it was already the case with The Distortion using Helen as a face and the tragedy of Jon not having been able to know her (plus, when it comes to monsters taking women’s faces: The Hive had invaded Jane Prentiss, the Not!Them postured as Sasha, even Nikola was technically a being older than this particular mannequin), while we got male antagonists who were their own despicable selves like Peter or Elias. On the other hand, Annabelle’s theme seems to be a play with the fears and thoughts people project onto her, the things they expect from her, the role she is forced to play because of these expectations:

(MAG147, Annabelle Cane) “Now, I believe the tradition is to tell you the story of my life; the sinister path that led me inevitably to the sorry state in which I now find myself. Well, let it never be said I do not dance the steps I am assigned.”

(MAG196) MARTIN: I don’t know, like… something a bit more dramatic, I guess. ANNABELLE: We’ll see what we can do. [FOOTSTEPS, THEN CREAKING AS ANNABELLE OPENS THE DOOR] [DRAMATICALLY] Step into my parlour…! […] Let’s make the setting a little more… appropriate, shall we? MARTIN: Hey, just… ah, hah, p–put the camera down, okay? ANNABELLE: You said you wanted something more… “dramatic”. Right?

(MAG197) MARTIN: Oh. Wonderful. I can’t wait to attend the Annabelle Cane Show. ANNABELLE: Huh! You know, I did consider it once. MARTIN: Excuse me? ANNABELLE: A TV show. Reaching out into the homes of millions, giving the more vulnerable ones a subtle nudge towards terror. [TAPE SQUEALS] Probably something for children. … It never went anywhere, of course. These things rarely do. […] Now settle back. Try to look… intentional. MARTIN: What does that mean? ANNABELLE: They’re going to expect a suitably elaborate scene when they arrive, a monstrous tableau. I’d hate to disappoint them…! MARTIN: Rrright… [MARTIN GINGERLY TRIES TO ADJUST HIS POSITION] So, w–were you thinking something like this, or–? ANNABELLE: [SIGH] [ANNABELLE RELEASES A BURST OF WEBBING, GAGGING MARTIN, AND STICKING HIM FIRMLY TO THE CHAIR] MARTIN: [MUFFLED INDIGNANCY] ANNABELLE: My apologies for the inconvenience but appearances are everything, Martin. Now, if you’ll excuse me? I need to change into something more suitable. [BONE CRACKS AND FLESH TEARS AS ANNABELLE REVEALS THIS WASN’T EVEN HER FINAL FORM] [ANNABELLE’S VOICE IS DEEPER FROM HERE ON OUT AND TAPE RECORDERS CAN NO LONGER BE HEARD] [TWISTED STATIC CRACKLE] ANNABELLE: It is so very important to prime your audience. […] I’ve played my part to its completion. You get to decide how I exit the stage.

The entirety of her interaction with Jon was framed as a performance – the performance he expected out of her. Jon was expecting the worse out of Annabelle? He was welcomed with a tape reminding him of his childhood trauma, putting him in the position of the next “guest” who would be devoured by the Spider when he would enter its home. Jon was wary of Annabelle as being dangerous and harming Martin? Annabelle turned into a monster and threatened to harm Martin. Martin might have had some doubts and fears about turning Web, to the point of refusing Jon would look into his head to know what was happening with him in MAG172? Annabelle kept going back and forth about whether Martin was suitable for it or not, with any detail going in a direction and then the other (Martin calculating his behaviour with others making him a likely candidate, but his impatience showing that he wasn’t fitted for it, but his perception of The Web proving that he had what it took…). Annabelle even pointed out to Martin that he was prompt to make a judgement and distrust her before she had done anything to him (“Why? Because of what I say, or because of the assumptions you make about my motives?”): she kept feeding them the lines they were expecting from her. It can simply fit with The Web’s whole thing about making you second-guess and playing on your indecisions, on your uncertainties and doubts; it could also be that there is something more underneath…?

(Especially since… well, technically, Annabelle gave them a lot of information and left them free to think about it. If she were trying to sabotage The Web from the inside, that would probably be the best way to go about it: following the plan like a puppet, and ensuring it goes badly at the same time.)

- That’s FUN, we got the same annihilation as MAG160 for Jon by putting him as responsible of the situation, while at the same time taking the reverse approach regarding being “chosen”:

(MAG160, Jonah Magnus) “It does tickle me, that in this world of… would-be occult dynasties and ageless monsters, the “Chosen One” is… simply that: someone I chose! It’s not in your blood, or your soul, or your… destiny. It’s just in your own, rotten luck. […] You are prepared. You are ready. You are marked. The power of The Ceaseless Watcher flows through you, and the time of our victory is here. Don’t worry, Jon. You’ll get used to it here – in the world that we have made.”

(MAG197) ARCHIVIST: So The Web, it wants to spread? To escape into new realities? ANNABELLE: Yes. But not alone. Any attempt to separate the Fears is ultimately doomed, as you well know. ARCHIVIST: But how? ANNABELLE: We found the one we believed most likely to bring about their manifestation. We marked him young, guided his path as best we could. And then, we took his voice. […] ARCHIVIST: … I won’t do it. ANNABELLE: Possibly. You’ve seen your other options. […] BASIRA: … What about her? ARCHIVIST: [HARSH] Good question. As far as I can tell, there’s now nothing to stop me killing you. And throwing this lighter away forever. ANNABELLE: Nothing, except your own indecision. […] We shall not see each other again, Archivist. But I eagerly await your decision.

There are so many little differences between the ways they pictured Jon’s role! Both presented him at the centre of their plans, as a necessary piece: Jonah gloated about the way he had picked and shaped Jon’s fate, and his whole letter was about retroactively depriving Jon of his own agency (shaping the fantasies that Jonah had always been in control and had led Jon where he wanted to ultimately be); and surprisingly, The Web took another approach, no less hurtful – framing the apocalypse as the result of a sort of uniqueness which meant that, since Jon was a child, he was likely to cause the apocalypse, and presenting the outcome and destiny of their world… as his, leaving him the possibility to “decide”.

And as much as Jonah blew the idea that he had always been in control out of proportions (the idea to send Jared after Jon and then going pikachuface when Jared attacked the Archives without waiting…), he still felt more honest than what Annabelle said about Jon! I’m especially interested in this bit:

(MAG197) ANNABELLE: We found the one we believed most likely to bring about their manifestation. We marked him young, guided his path as best we could. And then, we took his voice.

Because… what bullshit, what with giving the impression that there would have been anything special about an eight-year-old boy making him the “most likely” to cause the apocalypse! Implying that it was even Jon’s choice by failing to remind that Jonah had been responsible for it! It’s easy to describe Jon as the person who was meant to Open The Door now that it indeed happened, and I’m absolutely ready to picture that there were actually thousands of potential people who could have done it in the world and it “simply” happened with Jon. After all, Annabelle had pointed out last episode that “People get so caught up on how intricate they are, how perfectly constructed. They never consider how flexible they can be. The sort of storm they need to weather. You can’t be precious about a single strand.”: how many discarded plans had there been in the last century or so? I also love and hate how it paralleled The Web’s use of tapes: individually, each segment might have been true… but not necessarily in the order Annabelle suggested:

“We found the one we believed most likely to bring about their manifestation.” => Web indeed did support Jonah’s plans, but when did it decide that Jon would be the perfect candidate?

“We marked him young” => Jonah pointed out that Jon already had The Web mark and that it contributed in making him pick Jon as the next Archivist for his project.

“guided his path as best we could” => The Web tipped Jon off here and there during the series (a spider led to the season 1 climax, strengthening Jon’s chances of survival since the worms weren’t fully ready yet; there were cobwebs on Jon’s first tape recorder; The Web sent Oliver to help Jon to “make his choice” and wake up at the start of season 4; a tape covered in cobwebs sent Jon on a quest for an anchor, it was specifically a Flesh statement so likely trying to direct him towards Jared…)

“And then, we took his voice.” => Pushing Jon in the direction of the tape recorder to record the “difficult” statements that didn’t work on computers.

Did The Web send Jon to the Institute, or did Jon’s curiosity push him to wanting to understand what had happened with the book when he was a child? Who knows! But it’s all about framing these various elements in a certain order to make it feel like there is a coherent, merciless narrative that had used Jon like a puppet all along, while potentially keeping the most important part under silence: that The Web needed someone to bring the apocalypse… but that it mostly needed someone who would hate said apocalypse and would try to reverse it. That was the part The Web needed above all, given what Annabelle had just explained.

- Maybe it’s a useless wish at this point (only three episodes left) but Annabelle pushing the idea that Jon was “most likely” to bring the apocalypse screams “destiny as a concept” screams “Agnes” to me ;; Someone involved with The Web, whose voice was hidden and who was only described through the eyes of men and/or people romantically interested in her, who was aware of the expectations and the “destiny” announced for her and who might have decided to go another way…

- Jon said they would talk:

(MAG197) ARCHIVIST: We’ll talk about it later. Once you’re safe. MARTIN: [MUFFLED DOWNBEAT ACKNOWLEDGEMENT] […] Oh god, I’m sorry, I– ARCHIVIST: It’s fine. MARTIN: I didn’t realise that– ARCHIVIST: We’ll talk later. […] MARTIN: So… what do we do now? ARCHIVIST: Let’s get out of here. After that… we’ll see.

And indeed, they ought to. Two things that have been established and that I could see coming back:

* Martin had forbidden Jon to look into his head, to be able to respect some privacy (MAG167) and because he thought he would second-guess everything if it turned out The Web had been manipulating him (MAG172). Basira just reminded Jon that he needed to trust them to have their own opinions, that having an opposite stance to his didn’t mean they were manipulated… but I could also see Martin asking Jon to look inside him again to have the absolute certainty that no, Martin wasn’t manipulated. (Or maybe was, even partially, being nudged in a direction he partially wanted anyway.)

* Martin still hasn’t shared that he planned to ask Jon to smite him if they couldn’t find any way to turn the world back. As things are, sadly, it would feel extremely pressuring (since the only way to not go in that direction… would then be to follow Annabelle’s plan to get rid of the Fears).

- Given everything that was thrown in his face with this episode? I want Jon to have a breakdown and cry :w

- There are two gigantic lines of small print coming with Annabelle’s plan:

(MAG197) ANNABELLE: It’s very simple. Destroy the Archives, and cut out The Eye’s pupil. BASIRA: [SARCASTIC] Oh, is that all? […] And how exactly are we supposed to destroy the Archives? ANNABELLE: Many years ago, a draughtsman made an unfortunate and egregious error on certain city planning documents. As a result, an unusually large and dangerous gas main just happened to be constructed directly below the building you knew as the Magnus Institute, in a place where it would be protected by the tunnels of Robert Smirke, unchanged by the world’s reformation. [TAPE SQUEALS] You need only ignite it.

* Destroying the Panopticon through the tunnels means that the survivors would lose their only mean of protection. Melanie had pointed out that her and Georgie’s own protection was neither total nor long-lasting for others:

(MAG190) MELANIE: I wasn’t exactly going to leave her there so… we grabbed her and legged it. And… that’s when we discovered that we can keep others hidden as well. MARTIN: Hm. MELANIE: Not completely, and, and, not for long, but… it’s enough to get them here to the tunnels.

So they wouldn��t be able to protect the other survivors on the outside, and Annabelle just destroyed the camera (which could have been an alternative way to protect them for a while). Going with that plan would mean evacuating them and them consenting to it, and… would they agree? On the one hand, they could firmly oppose that plan (nobody would want to be put back in the domains’ hells); on the other hand, they might agree if it seems like Melanie&Georgie believe that this option has a chance to succeed (and out of belief that this is the way to achieve Melanie’s “premonition” of the apocalypse stopping)… and at the same time, Melanie&Georgie would probably refuse because of that, since it would be abusing the survivors’ trust and security over such a big lie, when they have no way to know if it would work.

* … Igniting a gas main through a lighter of all things means that the person taking care of the ignition is absolutely sure to be engulfed into the explosion, since it requires the flame to get into contact with the gas – unless they still have some materials from the Gertrude era or from the Exploding The Unknowing plans back from season 3 down in the tunnel, like a fuse?

Jon had pointed out that he should be able to harm Jonah:

(MAG193) ARCHIVIST: You were right. MARTIN: About what? ARCHIVIST: His body is vulnerable. A–at least to me. MARTIN: … What’s the catch? ARCHIVIST: I could kill his body, sever the link, break The Eye’s power, and… Jonah Magnus would die. MARTIN: Okay, that sounds good but…? ARCHIVIST: But… that wouldn’t actually harm The Eye itself. And with him gone it would… it would choose a suitable replacement. MARTIN: Oh. ARCHIVIST: If we kill Jonah Magnus… I take his place.

Which means it would probably be his role to severe the link between Jonah and Beholding, which means someone else would have to take care of the ignition… aaaaaaaand we have a certain someone who already proved himself regarding fire, and who recently stated that he actually had a fear of it.

(MAG117) MARTIN: 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’s cool!

(MAG118) [CLICK–] MARTIN: [EXHALE] Are you listening? [DEEP INHALE] … Good. [PAPER RUSTLE] Case, uh… 0071304. Statement of… Ivo Lensik. [EXHALE] [LIGHTER FLICKED OPEN] All right…! [LIGHTER BEING TURNED ON] [SMALL GASP] [SOUND OF PAPER BURNING] [DEEP EXHALE] [PAPER RUSTLE] “Statement ends”, I guess…! Hum… [PAPER RUSTLE] “Harold Silvana”! Number 0020406. Will probably do! [PAPER RUSTLE] [LIGHTER BEING TURNED ON] [SOUND OF PAPER BURNING] All right, then! 0140207, Dylan Anderson. [PAPER RUSTLE] Yeah? … Okay~ [LIGHTER BEING TURNED ON] [EXHALE] There’s plenty more on the pile~ [SOUND OF PAPER BURNING]

(MAG169) MARTIN: Will the fire feel hot to me? ARCHIVIST: Yes. MARTIN: Will it cause me lots of pain, if I touch it? ARCHIVIST: Yes, though not as much as– MARTIN: [SHAKILY BUT STRONG] Will it burn me alive, and kill me dead? ARCHIVIST: … No. It can’t do us any permanent harm; once we’re out, we’ll be fine. MARTIN: You are aware that intense pain can do you loads of harm, even if there’s no any physical injury! […] I know! I know, okay, I just… [SOMETHING SHATTERS] Look, I j–, I just don’t want to get burned, all right? It’s, it’s like my least favourite pain ever. ARCHIVIST: Is that… a joke? MARTIN: No, no! Okay? I… I legitimately hate burns, all right, they’re–they’re awful, and they scar horribly, and they just, it– It–it just makes me sick, I–I hate it. Hate it!

… It screams “Martin igniting the gas main” a bit ;; (I wonder if he will confirm whether or not Jon had lent the lighter to him in MAG118, or if that one was another, more mundane lighter?)

* Additionally: being at the top of the tower cutting the link between Jonah and Beholding precisely when the (under)ground level of that same building is being exploded with the goal of destroying the Panopticon/the Archives (since both words were used)… doesn’t bode well for whoever is at the top of that tower when it happens.

- Overall, I’m curious about what Jon and the others will do, concretely right now and after taking a decision, but I’m also not expecting them to follow Annabelle’s plan and presented binary at all.

Regarding what will happen immediately after the end of this episode: as much as Georgie’s last words (when she sent Jon&Martin on their way in MAG192) might have worked as a last appearance, Melanie’s (when she invited Jon to think about where Martin could have gone in MAG194) would be more surprising. Although there are only three episodes left, holy heck, I’m expecting Basira&Jon&Martin to regroup with Melanie&Georgie&the survivors in the tunnels to discuss what they’ve learned and their options? It will feel a bit weird to go back immediately to the tunnels but, at the same time, the framing device granted by the tapes has just been pointed out again – if the tape recorders don’t feel like the journey back to the tower (even with Jon pouring out a domain statement) is worth their while, if Jon&Basira&Martin don’t talk at all during that journey or don’t say anything that they find relevant, then they won’t get recorded at all until they’re back and ready to talk about things. (There is still a tiny possibility that they do talk on the way back and that Jon gives a statement… but since there are only three episodes left, I think we would all collectively lose it if one of them was used up for a domain statement.)

I’m curious about their individual stance on the whole thing. Jon was quick to point out that it would likely mean a rinse and repeat in another world of what they experienced – the Fears lurking at the border until they would be invoked in their fullest, dooming that world (these other worlds?) in turn. But on a personal level… they all know the amount of misery the Fears were able to cause even before the apocalypse: Jon was traumatised as a kid; Sasha’s whole life and existence were stolen; Tim had lost his brother because of the Fears; Georgie had lost her precious friend Alex because of them; Melanie had to gouge her eyes out to escape Beholding; Martin almost got swallowed entirely by The Lonely; and even the survivors: they were trapped in the domains, they know how bad it was, they know what inflicting the Fears on others would mean… but it would also be understandable for all of them to want to survive and save their own world. But what about the weight of responsibility? All of them in this world were subjected to the apocalypse by the decision of one person, Jonah (and the support he received from The Web), who manipulated Jon into opening the door: now redirecting the Fears on other people would mean making an active choice, being responsible for their misery. But what about the intrinsic bias in the fact that the people who would be able to make that choice and to act on it are precisely people who are not currently subjected to the domains? Choosing to sacrifice their world and the billions of people suffering for the sake of other worlds would be awful considering they’re not getting tortured alongside them at the moment. It’s all one big complicated trolley problem.

Thematically, I have trouble picturing them following Annabelle’s plan: Jon immediately refused, they have no guarantee that it would work exactly as she announced (and that there aren’t a few more caveats), and it would mean validating The Web’s plan, what it had worked on for so long, and which was based on the same reasoning as Jonah – the idea that someone would irremediably cause the apocalypse, and that it was better to stay in control of when and how it would happen to prepare its own escape rather than to try to prevent it. But at the same time, it might be a bit too hopeful to think that the group and the survivors would find and manoeuvre around a third way that would indeed nerf the Fears? ;; Technically, Annabelle’s instructions contained new information that could still be useful:

* The Fears are currently anchored through (at least) three elements: Beholding’s pupil (currently Jonah); the Panostitute/the Archives, vulnerable through Smirke’s tunnels; and the tapes, containing records of Fears. Annabelle didn’t mention Jon at all as a lynchpin, which is quite surprising given how the whole world had been able to identify him as someone special (as Simon had put it, “You might be the closest thing the universe has ever had to an important person”).

* The blob of Fears contains its own contradictions: some part of it wants to survive and is able to scheme for that survival (The Web), some part of it craves its own annihilation (The End) – technically, it inherently contains its own potential death.

(- I’m not sure what to expect about the survivors, whether they’ll be down with any plan or vehemently oppose or sabotage some of it. I know that personally, I would prefer them to just be… people who’ve been hurt, who are not nefarious, and who might even be able to provide out-of-the-box ideas? I fear that if they were the ones to “ruin” any plan, it would be an easy way to absolve our main characters of having made the final mistakes dooming everything, by redirecting the blame on random people, and give the idea that Humanity Sucks Actually, so it’s really not something that appeals to me.

I wonder if Rosie might join them in the tunnels? She would be another of the collaterals if the Panopticon were to get destroyed, since she’s trapped in that one…)

- I am really curious about how characters will now behave with the tape recorders, and whether we have learned everything there is to know about them. I’m onboard with the idea that The Web needed fragments of Fears woven onto the tapes, and had worked for the tapes to get created in the first place, but I’m still having some interrogations regarding what Annabelle said and how she acted around them.

* Characters had mentioned multiple times that something was “listening” through the tape recorders, or that they felt “watched” when it was on. However, Annabelle demonstrated that she doesn’t have an immediate knowledge of things as they were getting recorded:

(MAG197) MARTIN: And… Wait, ha–, no, uh… Is that… Basira? He–he’s got Basira with him! ANNABELLE: Yes. I did wonder if that would be the case. Interesting. And unfortunate for me. That’s two heads we’ll need to keep cool. My odds aren’t looking good.

If that knowledge had been instantaneous, Annabelle would have known for a while now that Basira was with Jon, since he picked her up in the lake in MAG195, on tape. Annabelle had taunted Martin about what was listening at the end of MAG196 but never clearly answered about that – her plan relies on the Fears hearing the voices and following… but are they the thing that had been listening through the tape recorders since the beginning? Could be that The Web itself is listening though the tape recorders? If so, that would also mean that Annabelle is not directly connected to it.

* The thing about the lighter having allowed The Web and the tapes to follow Jon… only partially works, technically.

(MAG197) ANNABELLE: A little anchor of our power, so that we, and our tapes, may follow wherever you go.

Season 2’s trailer had announced the tape recorder turning on by themselves, which is something we first witnessed in MAG080: the official transcript had two [CLICK] at the beginning of the episode (Jon taking Leitner’s statement); at some point, Jon, shaken, left the office to have a smoke (possibly compelled by the lighter), leaving Leitner alone; there was another [CLICK] when Elias entered the room and the “texture” of the tape spooling changed; Elias murdered Leitner, left the office; Jon came back and discovered the body and the recording stopped. What might have happened is that Jon was recording the event, but that another recorder had been sneakily double-recording everything by itself; when Elias entered the office, he turned off one of the recorders, unaware that there was another still running and catching everything on tape. Said tape was still in the Institute afterwards – Melanie retrieved it from Elias’s desk in MAG118, and it was the piece of evidence that forced Section 31 to arrest Elias in MAG120 (since the Inspector pointed out that it contains the recording of a murder – if it had been Gertrude’s, the secret of Elias-being-Jonah would have been known at that point).

It is true that the tapes had turned on and off around Jon after that point during season 3… but they did the same at the Institute when Jon was away, including when he was in America. In fact, the first times the tapes had begun acting up were around the Assistants (Tim didn’t want to get recorded in MAG082, and he&Daisy commented that it had turned back on; and it turned back on again at the end of the episode when Martin&Tim were discussing); by MAG114, Jon even thought that Tim was navigating through the tunnels because he wanted to avoid the tape recorders in the Archives. Chronologically, there are even a few cases where tape recorders might have been acting up pre-Jon: it’s unclear whether Gerry had accidentally turned it on in MAG162, and the recording of Gertrude’s murder in MAG158 had started when she was already busy pouring gasoline around.

I could accept that at that point, The Web had basically made its nest in the Archives (since Gertrude had her own connections with The Web through Hill Top Road and Emma had been working there for a while), but the point remains that the lighter had not been the (only?) thing allowing the tape recorders to act up. Actually, it’s even surprising that Annabelle kept talking about the “tapes” but not the “tape recorders”, and that neither she nor Jon ever clearly stated that it was The Web controlling or listening through the tape recorders themselves:

(MAG196) MARTIN: Wait… Wait. The tapes… ANNABELLE: A fine material to spin a web with, don’t you think? MARTIN: What? All this time, through all of this… it, it was just you spying on us? ANNABELLE: Oh, Martin! You have no idea who’s listening, do you?

(MAG197) BASIRA: … So. The tapes. They’re from The Web, then? ARCHIVIST: Looks like it. BASIRA: Were they always? Right from the start? ARCHIVIST: As far as I can tell. I–it’s hard to s–… If I look too closely at them, my own voice, things get… recursive. Hard to follow. BASIRA: I always assumed they were with The Eye. The whole “watching, listening, waiting” thing, you know? ARCHIVIST: No… They were always using them to spin their own web. Out of my words. […] MARTIN: I’d hardly call this silence. ANNABELLE: I’d stop them if I could…! […] We found the one we believed most likely to bring about their manifestation. We marked him young, guided his path as best we could. And then, we took his voice. ARCHIVIST: No… ANNABELLE: His, and those he walked with. We inscribed them on shining strands of word and meaning, and used them to weave a web which cast itself out through the gate and beyond our universe. So that when the Fears heard that voice, and came in their terrible glory, they might then travel out along it. [TAPE SQUEALS] Or be dragged. BASIRA: Is she talking about the tapes? ARCHIVIST: Yes.

So: was it always The Web controlling the recorders, is it still The Web? Or did something else happen, either from the start, either growing over the power that was being stored, and which led to the tape recorders also catching mundane conversations in the Archives…?

Regardless: characters might now associate tapes with The Web spying on them, which means that we could get a few more games of whack-a-tape-recorder or characters deliberately refraining from pouring their hearts out when they’re in the vicinity, or being unreliable on tape on purpose.

Only 3 episodes to go ;_; In previous seasons, at this point: Jon had just interrogated Martin about the lighter delivery (ha.), Jon had listened to Gertrude’s tape about the Not!Them, the Archive team had recorded their testaments and Jon had burned Gerry’s page with a lighter (ha.), Jon had read Adelard’s last statement to Gertrude explaining his incoming death and was panicking over Peter&Martin’s plan being set into motion, leading to Georgie&Melanie refusing to help and Helen gloating about it.

MAG198’s title is the WORST and doesn’t inspire me anything else than: shit going down soon TTwwTT

#tma liveblog #mag197 #tma season 5 #tma spoilers/#long post/#the magnus archives

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ordinaryschmuck · 3 years ago

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What I Thought About "What If...Captain Carter was the First Avenger" from Marvel Studios' What If...

Salutations, random people on the internet who certainly won’t read this! I am an Ordinary Schmuck. I write stories and reviews and draw comics and cartoons.

Back when Marvel Studios announced the new lineup of films and shows, I was admittingly underwhelmed. Nothing we've seen so far has been poorly written, far from it, but during the announcement, nothing really popped out at me as worth getting excited for. That is, except for one series: Marvel Studios' What If... An animated series that changes the canon of the Marvel Cinematic Universe, all through the simple question. The question being, "What if this happened instead of that."

From the get-go, I was sold on this idea. I'm a sucker for hypothetical scenarios, thinking up all the ways of how some of my favorite stories in fiction could be drastically different thanks to one tiny change. Some might call that "Fanfiction the Series," and while you're not wrong, I fail to see how that's a criticism. Because fanfiction can be fun...just as long as you ignore the sick freaks, sure, but it still can be fun! So whether Marvel Studio's What If... is fanfiction or not, it still didn't change how excited I was to watch it. Was it all worth the hype? Well, to answer that question requires spoilers, so keep that in mind as we dive deep into Marvel's most ambitious project yet.

Now, let's review, shall we?

WHAT I LIKED

The Watcher: Gonna get the generals out of the way before I talk about what I specifically like about this episode. Ok? Ok.

Now, using the Watcher as the narrator for this series is just perfect. What If... already has a similar energy to The Twilight Zone: An anthology series that takes viewers to new and mysterious realities all through the guidance of an omniscient narrator. And using the Watcher as that type of narrator might just be the second-best choice...number one would be Stan Lee, obviously, but...he's dead now. May he rest in peace.

I haven't read that many comics, so there's not much that I know about the Watcher's character aside from a ten-second Google search. But something tells me that a character described as a celestial being that observes and records the events surrounding the galaxy sounds like the exact type of omniscience to guide us through the unknown. All added with Jeffrey Wright's performance, who really does convey a character that sounds like he's as old as time and wise beyond his years. Plus, it's pretty cool that such a seemingly odd character now technically plays a major role in the MCU canon. Comics are weird, and if the Watcher proves anything, it's better to embrace that weirdness than deny it.

The Animation: Looks like someone watched Spider-Man: Into the Spiderverse.

That really is the feeling I got when watching this. What If... doesn't look as good as Spiderverse (Nothing can be as good as Spiderverse), but the idea is still there as it combines primarily CGI animation with a few hand-drawn elements. It makes certain scenes just pop and, at times, even makes specific shots look like they're straight from panels in a comic book. Besides, while Spiderverse still looks better, that doesn't mean the animation isn't phenomenal in What If... The scenery looks gorgeous, the CGI models moderately match their live-action counterparts, the expressions are fantastic, and movements are as smooth as butter. There was definitely some money that went into this series to make it look as good as it did, and my eyeballs were more than grateful because of it. Especially when it comes to--

The Action: Holy s**t, was it a good thing that this series was animated!

The MCU has had its fair share of great fight scenes in the past, but it always felt restricted to what the big superhero fights could be due to everything needing to look "realistic." That all changes in What If... Because now that this series is animated, we can finally chuck realism out the window and allow these characters to be as epic as they were in the comics. The movements are swift, the blows look like they hurt, and best of all, you actually get to see characters fighting each other! There are no random cuts to hide the stunt doubles or weird camera angles to avoid audiences seeing how ugly the CGIed replacements are. We get to see all of the action with zero restraint, thanks to the fact that animation is limitless and allows writers to get away with literally anything. And shows like this make me wonder, "Why the hell isn't the MCU animated?"

Peggy as Captain Carter: It's here that we get into the specifics, and by golly, do I love me some Peggy Carter making a return. And what a return she made!

Seeing Peggy kick Nazi ass as Captain Carter is as awesome as it sounds as she gives a new definition of a "Strong, independent woman." She took s**t from no one and was more than willing to destroy anybody who said differently. It's a ton of fun for fans (the ones who aren't sexist, at least) and even fun for Peggy as well now that she gets a chance to wreck shop. However, that in itself could cause problems. If you watched Agent Carter (a great show, by the way), then you'll know that Peggy doesn't act as...somewhat meatheaded as she does here. As she said it herself, she's "usually more covert than this." And she is, as she was pretty much the first superspy in the MCU, who's impressive through how she effortlessly infiltrates her way to winning the day with diminutive requirements for fighting. So stripping that away gets rid of a core part of what makes her character so interesting. Although, in fairness, you could blame the fact that the reason she's acting like this is that the super-soldier serum is messing with her brain a bit. We've seen through U.S. Agent the reciprocations of the wrong person taking the serum, and while Peggy is far from the worst pick, there are hints of why Steve Rodgers was the best choice. Still, even though it's not the same Peggy Carter, that doesn't mean Captain Carter is a poor addition to the hero roster in the MCU. She's cool in all the right ways, even though they're drastically different from what made her compelling, to begin with.

Howard Stark: Another character I'm more than happy to see again!

Howard didn't leave that much of a grand of an impression in Captain America: The First Avenger, but in Agent Carter (Seriously, great show), he was a blast. You can just tell he was Tony Stark's father through all the ways he fast-talks in and out of problems and brilliantly comes up with solutions thanks to being tech-savvy. The main difference between Howard and Tony, however, is that Howard prefers to stay on the sidelines, where Tony learned to be more proactive. You get a sense of that in this episode. Because even though he goes to save the day, you can tell that he would rather be anywhere else. And, as a bonus, Howard's just funny. Probably not up there as one of the funniest characters in the franchise (Paul Rudd's Ant-Man reigns supreme), but he still cracks me up more times than not. Howard may be nothing more than a side character, but he'll always win me over no matter how small of a role he has.

Steve Rodgers in the Hydra Stomper: Don't mind me. Just admiring the fact that despite being crippled and skinny, Steve Rodgers still finds a way to fight the good fight, which is who Steve is to me. One of the best things about The First Avenger is that it fully understands the hero that is Captain America. Serum or not, he will do all he can to do the right thing and won't give up despite how many times others tell him he should. So if Steve's going to fly around in a suped-up Iron Man suit that's appropriately named "The Hydra Stomper," then Steve'll f**king soar. Because he is a gosh dang superhero, no matter what name he takes at the end of the day.

Fast-Forwarding Through Events: Some fans might take issues with this. Don't get me wrong, I would love to see all the little changes that Captain Carter makes to the story, but realistically that's not the best choice to make. Let's be honest, there's not that much to show other than what this episode did, and doing a full-on rewrite of Captain America: The First Avenger would have rubbed some fans the wrong way. Besides, from what I can tell, most of the What If... comics are one-shots that very rarely branch out into longer arcs. The primary goal is less to write this large-scale story and more of this self-contained narrative that does what it precisely delivers: Show fans a glimpse of what would happen if this happened instead of that. That's what we were given, and I can't really complain that much. I would have loved to have seen more, but I can learn to be happy with what I got.

Colonel Flynn Taking Credit: This guy is sexist and an idiot, and that's why I hate him...but I'd be lying if I said that I didn't at least chuckle when he said everything was his idea. It's such a scumbag move that I couldn't help but find the humor in it.

(Like, what even was that scene where Peggy was pissed at Steve kissing a girl. THEY WEREN'T EVEN DATING !)nd Steve falling in love inThe First Avenger, which certainly wasn't helped by how they had these dumbass misunderstandings of each thinking the other was dating someone else. Here, they at least get to interact, confiding in one another about their insecurities and offer support when needed. And while it may be a little rushed, I'm more willing to believe their romance in under thirty minutes than I did in over two hours. It could have been better, but it also could have been much, much worse.

(Like, what even was that scene where Peggy was pissed at Steve kissing a girl. THEY WEREN'T EVEN DATING AT THE TIME!)

“I won’t tell you anything.”/”He told me everything.”: That's the Peggy Carter I know and love! Added with a solid joke, too.

Steve’s Pratfall: It's nice to know that no matter what universe we see, Marvel is still funny.

Peggy’s Sacrifice: Much like Peggy and Steve's romance, I buy Peggy's sacrifice way more than Steve's. Several fans already pointed out how it makes no sense for Steve to crash the plane into the icy waters when it seemed like he had enough control to land it or could have easily jumped out after aiming for the crash landing. Here, there's a more legitimate reason why Peggy sacrifices herself. The monster was undefeatable, and the only way to stop it was to push it back through the portal. Peggy, being the only one strong enough to do so at the moment, was the only option, and there was no way where she didn't end up going through with the monster. Even her return makes more sense, as I think her being lost to time and space sounds more believable than Steve surviving being frozen in ice. Something no mortal man should live through. Peggy's sacrifice proves that while the MCU can't change its cannon past, the writers learn from their mistakes and make something better.

WHAT I DISLIKED

The Reasoning Behind Peggy Becoming Captain Carter: So, the idea that one small change can greatly alter the story we knew is a great one, and it's one of the main reasons why I was excited about this series...but how does Peggy staying in the room cause the Hydra agent to detonate the bomb early? I understand the ripples that come from the Butterfly Effect, but I feel like that's too big of a leap to reason how Peggy ends up taking the serum instead.

Colonel Flynn: How is it possible that this guy is somehow even more of a pain in the ass than the general he replaced? At least Chester Phillips had the decency to respect Agent Carter!

Red Skull is Still on the Dull Side: Red Skull isn't an awful villain, but he wasn't really a great one. It's the same here, as he's just as forgettable and wooden an episode of television as he was in a full-length movie. But at least he had a cooler death this time.

Sebastian Stan is Not a Great Voice Actor: He's not awful, but his talent really doesn't shine in this regard. Some people think that being an actor and a voice actor is the same thing, but it's not always the case. Through live-action, actors are given a chance to express emotion through their expressions, movement, and voice. With voice acting, actors still have to convey emotions, but strictly through their voice. Meaning that actors like Sebastian Stan are limited to what they're used to and can stumble a bit when trying to perform in a field of acting they're unfamiliar with. You can tell he was trying his best, but this type of thing can take far more practice for others to perfect.

“Whew. Thanks. You almost ripped my arm off.”: ...hhhhhhhhhhHHHHHHHHA! HA HA! Ah...oh man...I, uh...I felt the internal bleeding with that one. Wow. Just...wow.

Bucky Leaving After Steve “Died”: Ok, now that's the biggest bout of bulls**t I've ever heard. BUCKY WOULD BE WITH STEVE 'TILL THE END OF THE LINE AND WOULD NOT HAVE LEFT THAT QUICKLY!

...This episode did Bucky dirty, didn't it?

IN CONCLUSION

I'd say that "What If...Captain Carter was the First Avenger" is an A-. It's still a solid start of what I can already tell will be a great series, but some elements could have used some polishing out. I loved it, but it wasn't as bloody brilliant as it could have been.

(And I meant it: WATCH AGENT CARTER! It's pleasantly surprising!)

#marvel cinematic universe #mcu reviews #marvel studios what if #peggy carter #captain carter #steve rodgers #hydra stomper #howard stark #bucky barnes #what i thought about #what if reviews

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rinharu-purple · 4 years ago

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Mr. Love MC’s Choice: Gavin

We fellow producers all have our favorite LI in the game for whom we save our gems and dates, replay their chapters over and over again, sucking our bank accounts dry during the process. And that’s what makes this game so fun! However in my opinion MC’s personal choice is Gavin. I will try to explain it as thoroughly as possible in this post. Obviously they are only my personal opinions at the end of the day so please don’t freak out if you beg to differ ^_^

There are spoilers ahead and this post is a long one, you were warned!

A big, warm hug and grandious thanks to @smallersocksx for proof reading so fast and sharing her ideas! <3 </p>

Up until now, I’ve always analyzed ships in subtopics, so this time won’t be any different so I will just dive right into it:

Body Language

The law of attraction between two people in a romantic way has some thumb rules, one of them is that when you like someone then you try to touch them at every opportunity. From all of our LI’s Gavin is by far the one with the most body contact to the MC (The main story only atm, I will come to his dates in a minute ;)). I think the anime speaks for itself, in every single Gavin episode and some of other LI’s episodes (ahem…ep 10 but also ep 11…ahem) Gavin and MC are always in an embrace or a meaningful “hands-on” moment…In the game MC and Gavin are quite often touchy with each other, MC seems to not holding her hands back every time she feels like Gavin’s hurt and reflexively touches him, she is also highly concerned about his hair since every time his hair get messed up by the wind, rain or hormones (swh ;)), MC doesn’t waste any second before correcting his hair. Every reunion they have results in MC reaching out her hands towards Gavin and surprisingly never other way around. Even in a perillious moment in chapter 22 when Gavin goes completely wild and unleashes his “beast-self” the first thing MC wants to do is embrace him. In chapter 24, at the very end among all routes, MC only tells Gavin that she’s missed him and hugs him. Chapter 27...again MC wants to check Gavins body for injuries and tends to them the second they are alone in a closed room. They both yearn for each other’s touch all the way, no matter in which narrative.

If I were to start counting Gavin’s touchy touchy moments on the other hand, then we have to prepare a 4 volumes encyclopedia because that male individual is all about touching MC. Another hint for their closeness is that MC makes notes on Gavin’s scent quite often, mostly related to his jacket or his embrace and while doing it, she always uses adjectives like “clean”, “distinct” or “unique”. Again in ch. 15 she knows its Gavin standing behind her even without looking, because she senses his scent: “A scent that I’d recognize anywhere”. Surely there are many scenes, where MC holds hands with another LI or makes a remark of their scent, but they are not at the intensity or frequency level that of Gavin’s.

2. The Setting

All four LI’s are representing a certain archetypes women are usually attracted to:

Kiro is a pop idol (target audience 13-15)

Victor is the young successful businessman with a high dominant demeanour and Mr. Grey-ish attitude (target audience 25 upwards or any 50 shades of Grey reader)

Lucien is a young attractive professor with a mysterious and enigmatic vibe (target audience 20-24)

Gavin is the misunderstood bad boy (high school) and later a righteous police officer (16-19 for the bad boy Gavin and 20 upwards for the righteous police officer, special agent, military commander... a pilot?! anything including a uniform fetish)

So, in the game, Elex could take any of these paths and develop it in a way that the chosen path becomes a true love story. I gotta admit, Victor’s story comes at times very close to being one. However, his never-ending bickering and belittling in his 90% of the time cold demeanour just make him lose major points. Plus, MC mostly goes along with Victor’s tone, even though she is a kind and friendly person, she bickers with Victor not because that’s her personality but because that’s the way she can cope with him. If only he were a little bit less domineering.. Which is why I never feel like MC and Victor would belong together irl.

Seemingly Elex and Mappa take Gavin’s way imo. Because…

In the main story MC loves all of the LIs in a different way and also has romantic feelings to each one of them to a certain degree, but when we look at it closely and read in between the lines of MC’s thoughts Gavin is a little bit more romantically portrayed than the other guys.

a) First of all Gavin had a crush on MC during high school cannonically: Even though Gavin only says that it was a farewell letter, MC says once that she wishes that she could’ve read that “love letter”. I will stop here with Gavin’s feelings because this post focuses on MC.

b) MC, too, was kinda into Gavin during high school because in Episode 18, when she goes to Loveland Hugh during her farewell tour before going with her ultimate sacrifice , she remembers Gavin in intimate things like “watching his athletic body” or “wearing men’s clothes-meaning his-”. Additionally she remembers taking note of his face shining in the sun in the very back of the line during her recital. Even before it all she was specifically interested in him. Her memories with the other LI s are comprised of rather friendly moments like flying kites together but when it comes to Gavin she once again thinks about more intimate elements. Not to mention that the game gives MC a farewell with Gavin. In her final moments she only thinks that for Gavin her grievance would be the hardest. In the End of the Abyss era (ch. 15-18) MC meets all of the LIs after their changes again and reacts to all of them with joy…surely, but only when she sees Gavin hovering above her in the helicopter it is again…drum roll…drama: “The next second I saw a pair of amber eyes…shining like brilliant skies” this girl is always romanticizing Gavin.

“-Can you hear me?

-Can you see me?

-See my heart pounding again at the sight of you?” (so are you saying that your heart wasn’t pounding before? oh ok ;))

Fast forward to CH34 where MC fights Leto for the final time and remembers our guys and again, while she remembers other LIs for their sacrifices and their protection of her, she remembers Gavin's warm arms...

c)The game takes his time and turns the half of a whole chapter into a date in chapter15 Ep 1-9. There is no other chapter in the game where MC spends time with any of the other LI’s in which there is only the two of them, whereas nothing relevant to the main story happens and they share solely many sweet, romantic and almost hot (when MC tries to dry Gavin’s face in her flat and realizes that she stands way too close to him, she then prepares herself to say something, but gets interrupted by the alarm) and again, MC is getting close to Gavin, not the other way around like Lucien pushing MC against the blackboard, that little sneaky Lucien (actually I could write a post with a masterlist of Lucien’s advances to MC:D).

d) MC’s premonitions revolve mostly around Gavin (when they are not about the whole world or the black queen). Her dream about the rooftop rescue, her Room 404 dream, her daydream in the office in 6-13 in which Gavin’s suffering and from which she wakes up crying out his name leading to Willow, Kiki and Anna remark on playfully how unfair it is to dream about Gavin and disregarding the other guys. She also sees his future in episode 15 twice! If I am not mistaken, she only sees Victor’s future once in her dream and a vague vision of him in ch 18 but other than that she has no premonitions about Lucien or Kiro. Besides in the anime MC uses her power unintentionally yet instinctively twice while having Gavin in mind in episodes 5 and 8. The third time, she uses her powers in this way is in episode 11 with Victor but he is not her driving force for this but she is driven by the imminent danger they both are in and she doesn’t particularly think about Victor at this moment. In the game it additionally happens in chapter 22 when Gavin is cornered by the mechanical arms and is in a tight spot, this sight makes MC have a surge of rage and to unleash her powers in a great magnitude. Gavin is Queen’s soft spot i.e. More importantly Gavin is a constant part of MC’s future frame. She has her visions about other LI’s past but when it comes to Gavin it’s only his future. MC doesn’t have visions about Gavin’s past, like, ever. While Kiro, Lucien and Victor are stuck in their pasts with MC, Gavin has made peace with his past, is living in the present and looking forward the future (one of his best qualities imo, not being stuck in the past). Ironically, it’s MC, who’s stuck in the past in Gavin’s case.

e) I will intentionally not delve much into S2 stuff, but one thing has to be in this post…We know that in S2 MC goes back in time and relives the last 17 years. During these 17 years she makes sure to spend her high school years close to Gavin. So given the chance to rewrite her past, she would choose to make good for the lost years that she regretted dearly in S1 (she gushes out about her regrets in S2 Late Autumn Date in detail). We are yet to find out more about the nature of their relationship during high school, but I wouldn’t be surprised if they had a “will they, won’t they” situation. Since the game wouldn’t put any of the guys in an ex-boyfriend role, that would be the most romantic frame possible.

3. How other people see Gavin x MC

f) In CH 36, the one before CH 37, where every LI gets the same intimate moment with MC, only Lucien and Gavin are getting close to kissing her to which MC doesn't show any rejection towards... She is the one accidentally kissing Gavin btw and this is the only time before CH37 that MC either accidentally or willingly kiss any LI on his face or near his lips.

g) In S1, MC only posts two pics with the boys in her moments. One of them is a selfie with Lucien and the second one is with Gavin, hugged from behind. No other LIs ever have a moment with MC. Neither on their accounts, nor on MCs.

It is always a good indicator to look at how other characters perceive a particular ship. For Gavin and MC, it is almost obvious that once they are standing side by side, others see them instantly as a couple. Sure, at the orphanage some children ask Lucien if MC is his girlfriend or that one actress threatens MC to stay away from Victor because he’s hers (btw what happened to her?) With Gavin however, it’s practically a running joke.

As mentioned above, her once daydream in the office with Gavin shoutout in CH 6-13 drew the attention of her co-workers, leading them to mock her for thinking about him too much even though her dream was rather a nightmare. Besides, Gavin is the one showing up the most in MC’s office and he also lift her up to his shoulders once in the Visiting Hours date and Homer took a pic of that hilarious moment.

Every time MC is at STF HQ, respectively, Gavin’s co-workers or subordinates too take note of her presence and in chapter 12 they are even caught red-handed by one of the agents as MC is busy “correcting” Gavin’s hair (because see point 1). Eli seems to be aware of the intimacy between the two and even probably assumes that they’ve done the deed, because in ch 12 he is surprised to hear that MC hasn’t seen Gavin’s wound yet. He presumes that she already saw him naked…oh Eli! Season 2 has even more eminent scenes, we just have to wait and see.

In chapter 15 when they deliver Perry to the hospital, they are mistaken to be his parents by the hospital personnel not once but twice! Needless to say, they don’t find it necessary to correct the misunderstanding. I mean Perry is, what, 6…MC 22, Gavin 24 but they automatically think that they must be the parents?! Sure thats common sense- wink wink nudge nudge ¬‿¬ -

In chapter 22 Shaw makes a comment on MC willing to go to where Gavin is with a “Really, all you do is following him, isn’t it?”. He uses MC to trigger Gavin in Airport date as well.

And of course, there is Minor…The ultimate number one wingman and the most original Gavin-stan! Minor uses everything in his power to bring them together both in the main story and in dates. He even calls her Sis-in-Law in public in CH 35 which MC doesn't reject. This doesn’t even need explanation.

Last but not least:

Their couple chemistry went viral lol.

Visually speaking, when they stand side by side, for me Gavin and MC look the most like a couple (Kiro is too childish and fashion icony compared to MC and Victor is too mature and business attire-ish making him look like her uncle rather than boyfriend, Lucien is the only one besides Gavin who actually suits MC visually). I am not saying that looks are the main indicator btw so don’t lynch me please ^_^

Come to think about it, MCs life is intertwined with that of Gavin's the most. Considering how she knows his father, brother and colleagues and spends so much time in "his world" whether it's at STF or NW. In the main story MC and Gavin have their favorite restaurants (ehm it's never souvenir due to obvious reasons 😉), share the same passion for music, have many common memories from high school and most importantly their world views are very similar. Both are prioritizing others safety over themselves and are compassionate for anyone who is in need. They are both ambitious and hardworking but not to the point of being power driven. Both are humble and finding hapinness in the smallest things. Maybe that's why they say the same things simultaneously or say the things the other would say simultaneously. MC and Gavin are highly compatible and have a harmonious, healthy relationship despite the conspiracy around them.

4. Anime

Okay okay, listen…Yes, the anime wasn’t the best adaptation and many of us were disappointed by the ending (including me), still, the anime makes a part of canon MLQC universe and no Gavin-stan should complain about the anime because the anime put canonically Gavin on a pedestal. In a total of 12 episodes, all guys had 2 episodes each BUT Gavin was actually blessed with 3 episodes and so many romantic moments to count…let’s count them anyways :)

Mappa introduces all guys in episode 1 so MC encounters them all in the first 25 minutes but she first meets Gavin in episode 2 and the two spend almost the entire time of the episode together, not to mention the extremely romantic first-fly scene in the sunset. As I mentioned in point 1, MC and Gavin are always in physical contact in any given episode. Anime made sure to portray every single interaction they have romantically.

They even went so far to mix Gavin scenes in other guys episodes (he offers her a ride to work in ep 3, she has an emotional moment with him after the first shooting misunderstanding while Lucien is standing right next to her in ep 4, Gavin is the one to catch MC mid-air in ep 10, this episode ends with them in their life and death embrace falling down in dawn… and then he falls on her in ep 11).

When it’s a Gavin episode MC has no romantic scenes with any of the other guys, let alone having any scenes at all. Its only about Gavin in Gavin episodes. Also, the storyline is edited in a way that between MC and Gavin a romantic story develops. Their meet cute conspiracy, their misunderstanding with Lucien, followed by the “drop the senpai” offer and finally that 5 seconds long gaze deeply in the eyes in ep 8 while holding hands.

It is really sad that the anime ruined this development in the final episode but taking into consideration that there might be a second season, they probably chose to make the change in Gavin’s character after the NW project remarkable.

Another point in the anime is that they kinda exaggerate Gavin’s Evol a little bit. During his stand-off with Lucien Gavin’s bullet cuts through Lucien’s shield and all in ep 8,11 and 12 there is a significant emphasis on the intensity and destructive power of Gavin’s Evol. I mean, whose Evol is the most upfront one in episode 12? We see Lucien using his Evol only twice, both very briefly, Kiro/Helios/Key and Victor even have to use guns to protect themselves and/or MC. Gavin’s shown using a pistole once at the beginning, after that it’s all turbines and tornadoes and just Gavin unleashed.

I think it’s an exaggeration because in my personal opinion, Lucien is actually the one with the strongest Evol, followed by Victor and then comes Gavin. Lucien’s ability to copy an Evol is simply the strongest trait one could have, sure it comes with the downside that he then doesn’t have enough time and focus to excel in any of those Evols, Victor can literally create black holes are you kidding me?! But because his Evol has its limits it puts him in the second place. But in the anime, Gavin’s Evol is extremely powerful and destructive and they also created some really cool scenes in which Gavin uses his Evol in various styles (accelerating his bullets speed, dodging a bullet, lifting MC in any and every situation, flying- obviously- and sometimes just overpowered destruction).

But in the anime in comparison, Lucien looks like a copy-cat of Evols and Victor like someone who travels through time to find out nothing can change the course of events (on a side note I will never understand why did Mappa toned down Victor so heartlessly, he is a powerful character and has countless sweet, emotional moments with MC).

5. Dates

I left dates to the end because they are highly subjective and don’t belong to the main story. NEVERTHELESS, Gavin’s dates include here and there some hints which may indicate that MC tends to like Gavin maybe just a little bit more. I will just add it as bullet points here since I’m pretty sure that the list will be enriched over time.

Slightly drunken date: Shouting out loud in public “Gavin! I’m crazy for you!”

When the Galaxy Falls Date: “...and in that moment, I make an eternal vow in my heart. To give all the blazing love and the most endless warmth to the person in front of me. Standing on my tiptoes, I carry a heart which is filled with courage to move forward, receiving Gavin.”

2 become 1 date “No matter whether the wedding is real or fake I only want to be your bride.” Here comes the Groom event where MC had a prob wedding with each and every LI but she actually only wanted to be Gavin’s bride (obviously Gavin’s heard her loud and clear since he’s bought a gem/ring right after) and that gem is brought up in…

The Returning from Afar Date - Thank you for silently watching over my mood. Thank you for always returning to my side no matter where you go. The white muslin drifts to and fro. My heart stirs, and I gently touch the muslin in front of me. Sunlight streams in. My fingertips brush the soft white muslin, tracing the word “Gavin” on it. I turn my head to the side, blinking at Gavin a little playfully. “This word - apart from it being your name, it also has another meaning. It’s “courage”. MC getting poetic, but who wouldn’t in that date (thank you @smallersocksx for reminding me and without @cheri-translates we poor Eng-server players would be left in the dark so thank you for translating season 2 for us!!!) but than MC verbally and literally makes her feelings clear in…

Late autumn date (2nd season translation by @cheri-translates) “I close my eyes, holding onto his solid arms. I lift my head to welcome his lips, savouring his unique breath. The person in front of me has shed off the roughness of youth, leaving behind only the purity of youth. He often makes me forget that he once used to be unrestrained like the wind. He has a body that is stronger than everyone else’s, a tough soul, a will that is as firm as steel, and a heart full of tenderness – it is soft beyond compare.

I cling to his waist tightly using my calves, wanting to brand every part of him into my heart.

“I want to bear his everything.”

Gavin: “Do you like it?”

“I like it…I like it very much…I like it so much that I don’t know how to prove how much I like it” “The rest of my life is yours, The years that we’ve missed out on are also yours” (whatever I have, I will give it to you. I will give everything to you, leaving nothing behind)

I rest my case

#mlqc #mlqc gavin #mlqc haku #mlqc bai qi #mlqc baek gi #mr love queen's choice #koi to producer #studio mappa #elex #papergames #mldd #analysis #tag your otp #romance #anime couple

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that-random-citizen · 4 years ago

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Writeblr Intro

Apparently I haven't done one of these yet so here we go

About me

Hey! I'm a person who writes and has too many projects unfinished. Let's be friends!

So, what can I say about me?

This is my side blog dedicated to writing. I go by L. and I'm 21 years old. I'm Portuguese and my pronouns are she/her. INTP?? Let's just get to it

You inspired me to write this intro. Yes, you. I really like reading about all of you and your stories, makes all my writing process less lonely because now I know there's a bunch of other people out there... who also struggle to write...

Let's struggle together, my friends!

I started writing stories a long time ago but only in 2019 I finished one completely. And after that, I started trying not to give up on my projects after only 3 chapters. It's been a challenge!

Although a lot of my WIPs feature romance, I have no idea why. I like a lot of stuff. So I tend to write a lot of stuff. This stuff that I'm talking about are the genres. Yes, I'm good with words. I love mystery, thriller, comedy, fantasy, I don't really remember much more but yeah, you got the idea...

I'm very character driven so I tend to focus a lot on my characters when writing. That's the reason why I excuse my excessive amount of daydreaming instead of putting my thoughts on paper. I'm just developing the idea! It needs to reach its final form... And so, I can't really move on if I don't know my characters like the back of my hand and that's why it's been 7 years on that one WIP (introduced a little down below)

I reblog a lot of memes and writing advice that I like. I also like reblogging your WIPs because they're all so good and you guys have amazing ideas and beautiful layouts. I wish I could read all your stories! I may try to up my game and add some mood boards when I introduce my characters. I don't usually write in English so I'm not sure about posting excerpts but I'll be keeping my WIPs updated in terms of how they are doing and character wise. I can also talk about random ideas and new WIPs that cross my mind. It's an infinite number of possibilities. And that's why I don't gamble.

I'm quite random and so I have a hard time focusing on one thing for to long. And that, my dudes, brings us to a very high number of unfinished WIPs that I can't keep track of. Here's the list:

WIPs

I have to many to count (27). These are the ones I'm trying to focus on right now:

The 4 Elements

It's been 7 years!

Basically I came up with this story because my brother asked me to write it and I was trying to make him more interested in reading books so I decided I was going to write something he wanted to read. Uh, that's a long and confusing sentence... if only I had editing skills!

Anyways, then it became this big conversation topic between us and I developed it a lot over that summer. And in the past years. It also has some clichés that I see a lot on TV that I'm not that fond of and so I decided to give them a little twist with this book

It's a superhero story!? And is my longest running project (I guess)

It's a series of 4 books from which I have a good grasp of what I want to write but one of the main characters is still a mystery to me so... I'm struggling!

Like, what is her motivation? I can't really find her voice, she's the "leader" and the only one who carries a braincell in the entire series and yet... What is her conflict in the story? I guess we have to wait another 7 years to find out...

Found family trope because that's my reason to live

A lot of chaotic energy

Four idiots who can control the elements

A lot of backstory

Some bad guys

It's a fantasy book. Or a sci-fi? I'm not sure

I'm going to write the second draft of the first book by this summer... hopefully

Reverse Fairytale

I don't know what to say about this one

I like taking clichés and reversing them somehow so I guess this is it

There's a princess trapped in a tower, a bunch of knights, a bunch of witches and a kingdom to overthrow

Very soft, very sapphic

There are only women loving women and an ace boy who has a pet dragon

Fantasy. There are a lot of fairy tale books involved

It's also romance and... why do I do this to myself?

Even the subplot is a romance - it's about a mermaid and a pirate and a curse but that's a spoiler so let's move on

Helena's Trial

This one I just want to get the outline done

I really liked this idea but I forgot to write it down and now I'm going through it to get it back

Another thing about me: I have terrible memory

It's about this angel and this devil who realize that they were guarding the same person - Helena

And in this universe, there can only be one guardian for each human depending on the fate that is given to someone as they are born

If you're destined to do good things you get a guardian angel

If the big boss says you're going to be evil, you get a devil to guard you and you have to be evil, no chance of changing back your destiny

Another corrupt system that it's getting overthrown

Helena has both an angel and a devil guarding her so they have to realize her destiny fast because she's destined to die in 24 hours, on her wedding day

The angel and the devil knew each other before they died and so it's a little awkward

It's a little enemies to lovers in that area

There are also cupids and a big Goddess who wants revenge

Fantasy

There's a screenplay...

So I'm trying something here but I'm still not sure.

I have about 100,000 words of backstory and that isn't even over yet and I'm trying to write a TV series screenplay.

I literally don't know why

It's a comedy so I had a really great time getting to make my characters be complete idiots but I have no idea how to write this and it's been a ride...

That's about it. I'm having new character ideas but I don't want to get myself wrapped around them yet. But my next big thing is going to be a horror novel (with chaotic energy and some idiocy, the only things that are a constant in my works) so if you have any tips, let me know. I tend to write in every genre. I thrive for it actually. I think it's a good experience to figure out what I truly enjoy and the things I wouldn't want to touch with a 10-foot pole

Anyways, feel free to interact, I'll be making an effort to be more active about my WIPs and post more about them here. Maybe it's the little push I need to focus on them and actually finishing one for a change. You can drop a message anytime, let's be friends and writing buddies!

#writeblr #writerscommunity #writeblr intro #writeblr introduction #writers on tumblr #writing community #writing #wip

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puckngrind · 4 years ago

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Marry Me - J. Toews

Song inspiration: Marry Me by Jason Derulo

Warning: swearing, mentions of sex

Word count: 2066

Part 2

🎶105 is the number that comes to my head.

When I think of all the years I wanna be with you.

Wake up every morning with you in my bed.

That's precisely what I plan to do. 🎶

Your announcement that you accepted a position in Chicago, found a roommate, and leaving your hometown in the matter of 2 weeks didn’t go over well. You didn’t exactly care because you fell in love with Chicago the moment you stepped foot off the plane for the interview. Your best friend went with you to cover up the real motives and you two hit all the suggestions including the way too fancy for you restaurant. This is where you actually ran head first into him. Your head was down making your way to the restroom and he was turning the corner. You made your apologies and your eyes wandered up to the very tall handsome man who’s suit cost more the entire contents of your suitcase. You were sure of it.

“Sorry, my fault.” His fingers brushed your elbow as you scurried past him. Not even giving him a chance to continue. You could feel the pink in your cheeks before even hitting the door. It was a tell-tale sign how embarrassed you were about the run in. Collecting yourself and returning to your table you were attempting to act like you didn’t just physically run into the most handsome man you’ve set eyes on in real life.

“You good (y/n)?” Your bestie, Savannah, takes a long sip of her drink and takes in your mood change.

“Yup, just embarrassing myself like normal.” You pinch your nose and recount the run in...literally.

“Handsome man? Where?” Savannah pops up a bit from her seat to see if she can put eyes on this man. You were focused getting her to stop that when the server placed the drink on the table you physically jumped.

“From the gentleman over there. He sends his apologies.” The server brought your attention to the room off your best friend’s shoulder where the same man you ran into was standing drink in hand and raised it up towards you. You do the same and the silent squeal coming from Savannah’s mouth was only noticeable to you.

“I swear (y/n), if you don’t go thank that fine fine man I’m gonna for you!” You worked up all the nerve possible and walked towards him.

“Thank you for the drink but I really should be apologizing to you.” His smile was intoxicating.

“Call it even then? I’m Jon, and you are?” He puts out his hand to shake yours. You nervously wipe your palm on your dress and place your hand in his. His grip firm but gentle.

“(Y/N). Are you having a party or something?” You blurt out taking in the room behind him with maybe twenty similarly dressed men loudly joking around.

“Um, something like that. It’s a work thing.” You look down at your hands realizing he hasn’t let go of yours.

“So you are from around here?” You slip your hand out his. Shocked at how large they were.

“No, I work here. You?” His stare into your eyes is intense that you some how babble on about the job interview and possible move. He listens intently. “This may sound forward, but I would love to show you around if you get the job.”

“OH! That’s...wow...uh...how will you know?” You fumble realizing it and bringing your gaze down to your shoes that are kicking at the carpet.

“How about you give me your number and we can start from there?” His phone comes into view at your hand level. You nervously type in your number and name and hand it back.

Jon types away and smiles. “Well, (y/n), I’ll let you get back to your dinner and I’ll talk to you soon.” He reaches out again to pull your attention to his face before retreating to your respective tables.

“Your phone vibrated while you were gone.” Your best friend just looks down at your phone that was face down at the table and then back up to your pink cheeks.

“Yeah. I assumed Jon texted me.” You flip over the phone to find an unknown number.

Jon: Hi, this is Jon. The man you ran into. I’m hoping you respond to this after you finish your dinner.

You couldn’t wipe the smile off your face the next two weeks. The two of you texted back and forth and he was so excited when you sent him word about the job. He helped you find a roommate. One of his co-worker’s girlfriends. You were slightly concerned about rooming with a stranger but something about how Jon treated you made you trust him.

Jon met you and Savannah at your new place with some of his friends to help move you in. You didn’t have much by Kelly said you didn’t need much.

“We are going to go clean up and will meet you out to celebrate.” Jon side hugged you after finishing getting you settled. You and the girls fall on the couch and start talking.

“So they aren’t all from the US are they?” Savannah finally questions Kelly.

“Nope. Actually most of them aren’t.” Kelly just laughs.

“And what exactly do they do? Savannah continues.

“I was told not to disclose that information.” Kelly pops up and heads to change.

“What does that mean?” Savannah waits to hear Kelly’s door before blurting out.

“I don’t know.” You think Jon will tell you sooner or later.

“And how can the two of you afford this...in CHICAGO?” Savannah has moved to the view which you will admit was not what you were expecting.

“Again, I don’t know.” Kelly emerges as you finish your statement.

“Let’s go ladies!” She claps and you grab your bags and head to her car.

Jon is waiting for you on the sidewalk. You take in the third style you’ve seen him in. Suit, sweats, and now jeans and a button down that hugs him just enough. All makes him look so damn sexy. You shake the thought out of your mind. Savannah snags a pic of you and her before heading inside.

The first night in Chicago was amazing. Deep dish pizza even though Jon just got a salad, a bar for drinks, then back to your place. You hardly even looked at your phone but decided to step out to the patio to text your mom. The door was caught behind you and Jon was standing there.

“Want company?” He asks.

“Sure. Just texting my mom.” You finally look at your phone since before dinner. Your brother’s text notification on the screen

Brother: Why is the captain of the Blackhawks behind you in the snap Savannah sent me?

“OH!” You answer aloud

“Oh?” He questions.

“My brother says the captain of the Blackhawks was behind me in the picture Savannah sent. I didn’t even realize.” You click into snapchat and Jon’s hand stops you.

“So....” He grabs your phone and places it on the table.

“Jon, why did you do that?” You look up at him.

“I’ve got something to tell you.” You seem concerned but his soft expression doesn’t make you less worried.

“Ok, what is it?”

“Kelly told me Savannah asked what I did for a living.” Jon leans against the railing.

“Yeah. Said you wanted to tell me.” You lean about two feet from him.

“And I knew when I met you that you had no idea who I was or any of my coworkers.”

“Should I?” You question looking back at the gathering in your now living space.

“If you watched hockey, maybe.” He chuckles a little. “I am said captain your brother is talking about (y/n).” Jon’s hand covers yours.

“Holy shit!” You blurt out. “How...why...fuck. Sorry.” Jon laughs uncontrollably. “Why are you laughing at me?”

“Because I was terrified what you might think. I like you (y/n). I’m not sure exactly how you feel about me.”

“I like you too. Which is weird because this is only the 2nd time we’ve seen each other.” You look up and Jon has closed the distance. His hand comes up to your face.

“And knowing what I do doesn’t scare you?”

“Why would it?” Your eyebrow raises.

“Some previous women only wanted to date me because of my status.” He admitted.

“Well that’s dumb.” You look into his eyes and he smiles.

“It is. Can I kiss you?” His thumb slides down your cheek. You nod because your heart is beating out of your chest and words were not forming. His lips grace yours and that’s where your relationship started.

That was two years ago and you two didn’t spend much time apart. The first summer you stayed in Chicago and you realized quickly when you met him in Winnipeg that you couldn’t ask him to stay in Chicago with you during summers. You loved seeing him home in his element. You moved in that August and found a job that was more freelance giving you a schedule that could bend around his season.

“I love that I get to wake up every morning to you.” Jon whispers in your ear one morning.

“You mean when you aren’t on the road.” You giggle.

“Yeah, but your face is the first I see on the road too.” His lips ghost yours. “Eventually my career will be over and we will be an old retired married couple.”

“Married couple huh?” You question as his body presses into yours.

“Not rushed, but yes. We will be retired in our 40s bugging the hell out of our kids.” You feel him growing between your bodies as he kisses your skin. The conversation left to explore each other.

🎶 Will forever be enough, so there ain't no need to rush.

But one day, I won't be able to ask you loud enough.

I'll say will you marry me.

I swear that I will mean it.

I'll say will you marry me.

How many girls in the world can make me feel like this?

Baby I don't ever plan to find out.

The more I look, the more I find the reasons why.

You're the love of my life.🎶

Your phone buzzes with a text while facetiming Savannah. Your weekly bestie time.

Jon: Wear the dress you wore the night we met and an Uber will pick you up at 7pm.

You: Okay? Any reason?

Jon: Trust me. Love you.

With that you went to the back of your closet to fish out the dress and got ready.

As promised the Uber was waiting for you when you left your shared condo.

“Where are we going?” You look up from your phone without the driver answering and realize you are heading towards the restaurant you first ran into Jon. He’s standing out front in the same suit he was wearing that night. Opening the door he holds his hand out for you.

“J, what are we doing here?” You eye your handsome boyfriend and he takes your arm in his and escorts you in. “No one is here Jon.” You look around at the normally packed restaurant.

“Well, I wanted to bring you back to the place we met.” He stops at the door where you gave him your number. “This is the place I realized I needed to know more about you.” His expression wasn’t one you’ve seen before.

“Same. I couldn’t stop smiling for two straight weeks.” You admit and he chuckles breathes in deep.

“You are the best thing that has ever happened to me and I to shout out it from the root top that you are mine.” He starts then reaches into his pocket. You gasp realizing exactly what was going on. He gets on one knee and holds your hand.

“I love you with my whole being. Would you make the the luckiest man on the world and be my wife?” He pops open the box with one hand to reveal the perfect engagement ring.

“YES!” You shout as he stands and kisses you passionately.

“Cannot wait to make you Mrs. Toews!” He places the ring on your left ring hand and you wipe the tear from his eyes.

“I love you Mr. Toews!” You breathe out as he pulls you in.

#Jonathan Toews fic #marry me one shot #k's one shots #first time writing for him #I kinda liked it #tazer me 19

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spookyshake · 5 years ago

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*proceeds to do exactly everything but work on my pets* H-have some faeries and lore dump I had rotting in the cabinet

[Light Faerie - Justine] A stern light faerie who manages Faerieland's treasury. Rules and regulations are her creed, and she will not allow any misdeed under her watch.

Despite her uptight demeanor, she has a peculiar fondness for games of chance. She seems to have an unwavering confidence in the certainty of numbers- and the dice, once cast, are fair and absolute arbitrators in her eyes. Of course, it could just be that she's addicted to gambling. When there's no clear protocol for a situation, she opts to flip coins and leave it to luck and happenstance.

-Fwaku's life was saved by Justine, who had happened to be passing by the area. She decided to flip a coin to determine his fate- and as luck would have it, he would survive. -The townspeople that had found Fwaku suggested that Justine should give the draik a name. The exchange probably went something like this: Townspeople: Thank you great faerie!! Would you give the honor of naming this child you just saved????? Justine: (uh shit) Give me a moment. *furious dice rolling* Justine: I grant this child the name...F..W...Q...Fwaku. Townspeople: WOW!! WHAT AN HONOR!!

(What kind of name is Fwaku......)

-While Fwaku is generally irreverent and unlikable to most parties he comes across, he displays a great deal of respect towards Faeries because of his background. Justine, in her act of saving and naming Fwaku, also unwittingly left him with a strange blessing: he has extremely good luck to the point of absurdity, which has saved his skin from karmic retribution countless times in the past.

---

[Fire Faerie - Heliae] A go-getter fire faerie with a particularly strong affinity to her element. Still young for a faerie, she has trouble controlling her excessive energy and often bursts into flames when she's excited.

Fun-loving but a bit careless, she loves to attend concerts, festivals, and other events where crowds gather...a serious fire hazard waiting to happen. She doesn't seem to fully grasp the danger she poses to those around her, and was originally sequestered away in Faerieland before she decided to run away- as you do, when you're a young faerie whose had your freedom denied.

Very explosive. very explosive. very explosive.................................

---

[Earth Faerie - Lottie] A lax but cryptic earth faerie who appreciates tranquility. She wandered into Kiko Lake some long time ago, and has since stuck around trying to achieve what she calls 'perfect bliss.' Generally found quietly meditating and contemplating her surroundings- usually with sweets and a cup of borovan as accompaniment. Her perception of time seems to be a little out of sync with the world around her.

Though usually impassive and calm, she hates above else having her peace and quiet disturbed. She will, with a quiet but tremendous fury, catapult raucous intruders out the window. Her longest recorded throw was over a mile! So impressive is her throwing skill, that kiko children often dare one another to see who can get flung the farthest.

-Because the architecture around Kiko Lake are built with kikos in mind, it's not uncommon to see the faerie bump her head on the door frames and ceilings. Fortunately, there's also never a shortage of bandages in the vicinity.

[Dover] Brown Kiko. Ever since Lottie began living on their family land generations back, their crops have prospered- especially asparagus. Now, the family is in the Borovan business, exporting premium blends of chocolate and asparagus for which Kiko Lake is now famed.

Dover isn't the kiko's real name- that was the name of his great great grandfather, but Lottie doesn't seem to make a distinction. All of her little helper kikos are 'Dover' to her. His job is to run around fulfilling Lottie's errands, whether that be procuring snacks or chasing pesky kids out of her yard.

---

[Dark Faerie - Alluce] A vain dark faerie living near Neovia, known to kidnap Neopets to force into servitude. She periodically terrorizes the citizens of Neovia to spread her influence. She wants, above all, to be feared and revered! ...but her actual ambitions tend to be quite small and petty. Knowledgeable about mirrors and magic involving them.

Though she revels in garnering fear, she's rather full of fears and cares herself- the thought of the true horrors lurking within the depths of the Haunted Woods makes her quiver. All smoke and mirrors, no bite.

-Doesn't get along well with Clariote. Alluce can't maintain her high-and-mighty mistress of evil theatrics against Clari's general irreverence. ABSOLUTELY D I S R E S P E C T F U L

---

[Air Faerie - Nephele] A fickle air faerie scout with a light-hearted but arrogant demeanor. One of the faeries tasked by Justine to recover Faerieland's lost artifacts, which were scattered across the lands in the aftermath of the Faerie's Ruin. Holds a strong belief that Neopets are lesser beings, considering them to be incompetent without Faeries.

Rand (Faerie Tonu) and Bell's (Faerie Tuskaninny) supervisor. She usually leaves the Neopets to do all the dirty work and takes credit for their efforts, usually under the justification that Neopets 'owe' the Faeries anyways.

---

[Social Media Faerie - Papilla] A young faerie, rare in her time (Einse’s Future). Big-time celebrity and social media influencer, she loves travelling Neopia and blogging about her adventures (and promoting sponsored products.) Has a great love towards Neopets and lives life at her fullest interacting with them, but holds feelings of isolation due to being perhaps the last known faerie in Neopia. She’s invested in discovering why Faeries have all but disappeared in her time, and spends some of her time flitting across Neopia looking into the matter. She has a terrible sense of humor, and she sometimes has strange fits where she floods her social media with incomprehensible jokes and memes- terrorizing her followers’ feeds. She does all this in earnest, thinking her jokes are hilarious, but her fans generally think she’s just trolling and get a kick out of it. This creates a strange cycle of positive reinforcement as Papilla continues to get many reactions from her bad jokes, reinforcing her confidence in her humor. SOMEONE STOP THIS FAERIE

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

[The dynamic between Faeries and Neopets] Neopets aid Faeries, Faeries grant blessings. The dynamic between Neopets and Faeries is mutually beneficial, for the most part.

-Power of belief is essential to grant power to a Faerie's magic. Neopets, by helping Faeries on the premise that they will receive a reward or be granted a blessing, creates a transaction of belief. This is the premise of Faerie quests, which plays a vital role in powering the barrier that protects Neopia from wraiths (among other things.)

-Faeries are perhaps better defined as 'memetic' as opposed to 'elemental'- their magic is framed on a concept or idea, which relies on the belief/understanding/recognition of the themes surrounding the idea in question. The more wide-spread and strongly understood the idea, the greater the manifestation of a faerie's magic. (Motes, though simpler entities, also work on the same logic)

The basic elements, for example, are widely and easily understood as a concept- which may be why the majority of the faerie population falls in this category. (Something like a singular 'Fire' Faerie, for example, would probably be TOO POWERFUL AN IDEA to contain as a single being, so instead there's just a lot of them.)

-Names are very important, because they give shape to a concept or idea. -When they're cut-off from belief, they lose strength (Bottled Faeries) -They can shrink! Probably to conserve magic. -A Faerie without wings is essentially unheard of (with the special exception of Water Faeries). Taking away their wings is one of the most heinous things you can do to a Faerie. -Faeries are born spontaneously? Most of them just appear one day out of the ether or whatever. -They're ageless and nigh immortal

they're......the OG gijinkas <-- hold on this is actually somewhat relevant but that's a story for another time

[Shenkuu - A curious case study of Kaia, the Shenkuu Faerie] Kaia the Shenkuu Faerie appeared spontaneously in a relatively recent timeframe- probably within an average Neopian lifetime. She's a young faerie, younger than most of her kind. She's in the same category as Jhuidah and Taelia- faeries with a strong conceptual connection to the land they watch over.

There are no other (known) faeries in Shenkuu, which implies that the faerie population in Shenkuu is very low or...non-existent? At the very least, it can be said that Faeries are novel in Shenkuu, given that Kaia mentions how everyone stares at her. If we go a step further, we could postulate that Faeries, as a concept, isn't a part of common knowledge in Shenkuu as a whole.

Almost as if the concept of 'Faeries' have never existed here...?

-Shenkuu was a land that had barred itself from the outside world for an undetermined amount of time. The land only recently opened their doors to the rest of Neopia (Cyodrake's Gaze) (*in my lore I'm pinning that down to like 10~15 yrs ago for character reasons but passage of time in Neopia is not very well defined so.... shrugs) -It can be assumed that there was still some exchange occurring with the outside at a smaller scale (Airship merchants, travellers who ended up in or out of Shenkuu by happenstance, Neopians living in areas close to but not quite in Shenkuu proper, etc) -Assumably, Shenkuu has a history perhaps dating back to the heyday of Altador and other 'ancient' civilizations (1000+ years) -This creates a situation where: a. There never were faeries to begin with in Shenkuu or b. There used to be faeries, but they disappeared from Shenkuu AND from common knowledge

-Kaia's manifestation may have been the direct result of the opening of Shenkuu to Neopia- with the arrival of outside trade and ideas, so too did the knowledge of Faeries. Once the faerie 'meme' took hold in Shenkuu, where there was a void of Faeries, it took form as the Shenkuu Faerie: Kaia. This is why she's so young as a faerie- she probably spawned sometime between Cyodrake's Gaze and the present day. (Alternatively, she might have existed in Shenkuu before the events of Cyodrake's Gaze but I think it still holds that she popped up in a pretty recent timeframe.) Kaia herself only seems to know Faeries through the knowledge she received from travelers.

#◆Concepts #★NPC #◎Faeries #▶ Future #i am alive and definitely not posting from beyond the grave

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razorblade180 · 4 years ago

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Rumble

It was just another day in Vacou. Hot temperatures, clear skies, and Carmine getting into trouble. Ruby paced around her home on the phone with the girl’s teacher. The fifteen year old wasn’t where she was supposed to be. “What do you mean she hasn’t showed up for class again? Is she in the school at all?” Ruby tapped her foot like a rabbit. She loved her daughter but the amount of anxiety caused whenever Carmine went off somewhere alone was a thing Ruby would never shake. She didn’t need another Dustin. Nobody needed another Dustin. Though at this point, Carmine wouldn’t have the luxury that child was given. She would no doubt be dead. The thought made Ruby hang up the phone and dial Sun’s number.

“Yellow?” The cheeky man answered. “Carmine wouldn’t be with you by any chance? She’s not at school. I’m about to start looking around town.” She heard a bit of rummaging over the phone. The man was climbing a tree to get a vantage point of his surroundings. “Haven’t seen her, but you know Carmine. She’s probably sticking her nose into some crime to stop it. The police authorizing her to do citizens arrest and intervene with organized crime was probably the most chaotic decision.”

Ruby walked up stairs to peek in on Jaune putting Garnet down for a nap. “I’m heading out.” Jaune gave a thumbs up. “Godspeed.” Ruby gave him a kiss then dashed out the house. “Do you mind helping me out Sun? Vacou has too many nooks and crannies.”

“I think I have a better idea. Aero could speed things along.” Ruby’s face went through varying emotions. “Why isn’t he in school?” She asked. “He kept complaining about it. This gives me an excuse to put him to work though. The two of you together can cover Vacou in now time.” That was true. Vacou didn’t feel so big with help like his. “Can you put him on the phone?”

Sun looked around for his son. It was no surprise to see him on the roof. He was fortunately dressed already. The typical black combat boots with khaki cargo pants that had purplish sash around the waist that matched his shirt. His short brown hair was slicked back and he put on his black windbreaker. He turned his head to see Sun trying to get his attention.

“Yo! Ruby wants to talk to you, bird brain” Sun blinked and Aero was already hovering over him. His massive black and white condor wings spread out. Aero took the phone. “Let me guess,Carmine?” This wasn’t the first time he had to find the girl. Ruby sighed, “you guessed right. Do you know why she isn’t at school?” He had to think about it for a moment, then he had a pretty good idea why. “I could be wrong but there’s been talk about this back alley gang that’s been harassing students. Money, catcalling, forcing people to join, making those people get more people; the typical shtick. Carmine would definitely know about it.”

Great, Carmine was definitely doing something about that. Ruby picked up the pace. Gangs aren’t the worst thing to be dealing with. Vacou spawns Them constantly, but there are a few that are way too big and will take more than her. Carmine was good, but not untouchable. “Aero can you help me look for her and let me know what you find? I know you two are pretty fickle with each other but…”

“I’ll keep you posted. Not like I could refuse anyways.” He grunted, rubbing the back of his neck. “Thank you. I’ll be sure to make you all the pasta you can eat.” Ruby said as she hung up. Aero gave Sun back his phone. “I’m going to borrow your arm bracers. Back alley brawl, you know those go.” Sun gave him a nod and gave him the ones he already had on.They weren’t what he used to but these bracers were the best quality. “Your mother is going to kill you if you lose.” Aero chuckled nervously. Truer words had never been spoken. He gave his wings a good flap and shot off towards the rest of town. The wind from his take off nearly knocked Sun over. “I hope he finds her in high spirits.”

xxxx

“FOR THE LOVE OF GODS! SHE’S ONE GIRL!” Shouted a man with a greasy mullet, aviators, and a cobras tattoo on his arm. He had just watched another one of his men get their face punched into a brick wall by Carmine. “WHY IS SHE STILL STANDING!?”

A man grabbed Carmine from behind to restrain her while another ran at her from the front with a knife. Carmine kicked out with both legs to hit his chin, then flung her weight forward to flip her captor forward; landing on top of him. “Fight me yourself if you think I’m easy to beat, you rock band reject.” She looked around at the dozen upon dozens of brutes that laid on the ground, writhing in pain. “Clearly your men need help. More came rushing in from back alley doors and fire escapes. The quality of the people weren’t too bad. It was the quantity that was a pain in the ass. Carmine had to admit she came here unprepared and unexpectedly; on uniform day no less. Her clothes were soiled with dirt and blood. Some of it being her own.

A slow stream of it ran down her face and over her left eye while her left forearm was an unhealthy mix of red and purple from blocking pipes. Even her face was a bit bruised and bloodied by scratches. Carmine was confident she looked like a complete badass right now. It was the only pro in this situation that kept the pain in check. That and adrenaline. A schoolmate cowarded behind a city dumpster where Carmine ordered the boy to stay. He had been targeted by the gang and came to school scared out of his mind. He also was a little beat up. “You okay back there?”

“No!” He shouted. He poked out from his hiding spot. “Why’d I let you talk me into taking you here!? We’re gonna die!” Carmine could understand that mentality, but why her classmate had it after all the bodies she’s knocked to the ground was beyond her. Her appearance had to be the reason why. Carmine kept up the assault, roundhouse kicking two more guys and uppercutting some chick with green hair. Another girl came running at her with a knife aimed for her face. Carmine back stepped then grabbed the wrist of the opponent, flinging her into three more people. Carmine ran at the leader but was hit in the back with a bat and stumbled into another brute that gave her a meaty left hook she couldn’t see coming. Her body hit a brick wall. Having her weapons would be nice right now was all she could think about.

The one with the bat went in for another swing to the head. Carmine grit her teeth and blocked it with her already broken arm. “This will do.” She yanked him forward and head butted the weapon out of his hand. The bat was lighter than what she used to. Carmine kicked off the wall and swung it across the other brutes face, knocking him out cold. More came rushing in to dog pile her but Carmine was too quick. She weaved in between the bodies and had their ribs become acquainted with her new weapon. “I have to be honest with y’all, getting really close to just beating you within an inch of your life.” The threat was all too real and they could tell.

Some of them started approaching slower and with far more caution. They’d be damn if some kid was about to win. Their boss wouldn’t allow running away anyways. Carmine growled, getting annoyed by the herd mentality of weaklings. “If you know what’s best then stop hanging around schools and dealing to children if you know what’s good for you.” She vanished from their line of sight before appearing several feet closer with six more gang members face down on the ground. “Or we can keep roughing it? Either way works for me.” Carmine was really hoping to catch her breath. Her limbs felt heavy.

They kept advancing, step by step. The hard way it is. She felt bad for them really. From the moment Carmine entered the alleyway, they forfeited their right to leave quietly. She only gave them an out so they couldn’t say she didn’t. A twinge of excitement and anger crept onto her face in the form of a smile. Her red eyes shimmered eagerly. “Bring it on, fools.”

“Well look at that, a face of a predator in her element. You’re a real freak show, you know that?” Called Aero from above. Everyone looked up to the man with his phone out. He zoomed in on Carmine and took a picture for Ruby. “Your mom is searching for you. She’ll flip seeing you like this.” He already got a message from Ruby saying she was five minutes away. “Who the hell are you!” Cried the leader.

Carmine grimaced. “Aero…” she looked to her right to see the boy next to her while the others took a minute to notice he wasn’t in the sky anymore, gasping when they finally did. “I don’t need you here. I got this covered.” Aero looked Carmine up and down. “You look like shit. That’s not new though, but I’m here as a favor l. You may not need my help but that kid over there is the reason this is happening right? He looks like he’ll take all the help he can get.”

“I would!” He shouted. Carmine rolled her eyes and approached the group of gang members, her bat twirling in her hand. “Handle the small fry while I teach their leader a thing or two. If you think you can handle it.” A grunt ran at Carmine but was met with a wing slap across the face that sent them to the ground. Aero smiled and dashed towards another grunt, striking their face hard enough to break their nose and push a few more back. The leader got a good look at the young man. His heart sank when he realized both of these troublesome kids had a colored sash. The girl’s scarf and the fabric on the boy’s waist. To make it worse, the gray eyes and majestic wings. Started looking familiar. “You...live on the outskirts, to the north, right?”

Aero cracked his knuckles. “Oh, so you know who I am? Then you know today is the day your gang gets run into the ground. Don’t feel too bad though. Losing to a rival group is the natural order of things. Carmine, we have four minutes before your mom steals the show.” Carmine did nothing but rush past him with her bat at the ready. Words waste time after all. It was time for a beat down.

xxxx

Ruby darted around the tight corners of shabby buildings that hid all kinds of secrets. That photo really sent her into a panic. Being battered and bruised was nothing new to see. That was the sad part. Why couldn’t she go school for a full day for once! Ruby didn’t even care that Carmine was a C student. Yes her grade in math needed to go up next quarter and literature class may need work. But Ruby wasn’t going to hassle her about it! She just wanted her safe. “Carmine! Where are you!?” The area was dead quiet to the point it was unnerving. Ruby turned one more corner. “CARMINE?!”

“Hmm?” The girl heard her mother and turned around. There she stood, teary eyed and out of breath. All while Carmine sat on a pile knocked out goons. Her scarf pressed against her head to stop the bleeding. She bit her lip, feeling a little guilty now that she sees the worried look on her mom. “It’s not as bad as it looks. Just don’t hug me tight. My ribs took a beating, also my arm. Good chance I’m also concussed-” Ruby gently wrapped her arms around her.

“I’ll yell at you later. Just do me a favor and tell me the crazy shit you’ll do?” Carmine turned flushed and hugged her mother back. “You’re lucky everyone is knocked out. It would be embarrassing for common thugs to see this. Would you believe me if I said I had full intention on going to school. Then that guy over by the dump walked by all frazzled, hassling people out of fear. Protecting peers is part of being a good student, right?”

Ruby looked at the boy. Aero was helping him up. She didn’t know how many people he had to fight. There wasn’t a scratch on him but the bracers were riddled with fresh blood. He didn’t even look tired. Typical Aero, he’s a wild one. Forget silver eyes. That silver tongue and calm attitude was all the weapons he needed. It was still sweet of him to lend a helping hand. Ruby didn’t even have to pay him this time! Perhaps his parents got on him about such a thing. “I’m going to drop this guy off at school. I’d stick around but you know, fuck that noise. You can deal with paperwork work and authorities. I want that pasta with meat sauce by the way. Later Mrs Rose, Little Flower” He said to Carmine. He spread his wings and took off.

Carmine scowled at that nickname. “I can’t believe you sent him after me. Of all the people.” Ruby chuckled lightly, he’s the only one in all of Remnant who might completely enjoy your chaos.” Ruby had a point. For all the years they’ve known each other, Aero seemed to invite controversy. It was incredibly irritating. Why couldn’t he thrive off a peace like a normal person? “Wait, you promised him pasta?”

“Yep, your punishment is helping me cook for him.” Carmine looked at her arm. “Uh...one handed? Even with dad’s help I am going to need a cast.” Ruby shook her head. “Extreme choices require extreme punishments! Do your best!” The enthusiasm didn’t match just how cruel that statement was. Carmine held her head down and sighed, “Fine…he better like it, or I’ll stab him.” Ruby frowned. “This is why your friend bubble is as tiny as a soap sud.” Carmine’s jaw dropped. “Hey!”

xxxx

Carmine sat on the couch covered in bandages while Jaune wrapped her broken arm for the second time. Aero sat at their table comfortably eating pasta and tried to stop himself from choking out of laughter. “Amazing on the battlefield, stumbles in the kitchen. Oh the pitfalls of Carmine Arc-Rose never stop being entertaining.

“I will beat you with my ca-aaah!” Carmine winced. Jaune wasn’t pleased. “You’re pulling your stitches!” The three of them kept going back and forth while Ruby fed Garnet along with Sun and Ilia. “Why are they like this?” They all said silently as they ate. At least they had a reason to eat together. All in all, a pretty good day.

#rwby #jaune arc #ruby rose #rwby lancaster #sun wukong #carmine arc rose #ilia amitola #sun x ilia #rwby sunspots #rwby rosebud #rwby au #aero amitola

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doctorreids · 4 years ago

Text

folklore - spencer reid x reader

CHAPTER TEN - illicit affairs

series masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter

word count: 2k

warnings: slight mention of alcohol as a coping mechanism

a/n: sorry about the glitch !! here’s the new chapter x

“take the road less travelled by, tell yourself you can always stop. what started in beautiful rooms, ends with meetings in parking lots.”

It had been one whole month since they’d first kissed. The working weeks had gone by slowly -the first few cases had been local, they had all night to spend wrapped up in each other. The smell of her perfume filtered through his apartment, almost as if it always belonged there. Her pillows smelled of his cologne. They belonged to one another. At last.

They hadn’t intended on telling the team, not until they’d actually considered the whole ‘what-are-we?” conversation. However, she was certain that Spencer was forever. He always had been.

From nights spent in both their apartments and small dates outside of town were all they ever needed. Less of a chance to run into anyone from work, he would assure her as they drove an into D.C. Soon enough, small restaurants around D.C became their safe haven when they got the chance. She knew Spencer preferred home-cooked meals though, but she never said anything when he would stop her before they left work to let her know he’d pick her up soon.

The cases away were harder - no chances to sneak from one hotel room into another, nor were there chances to grab dinner between the two of them. She was frustrated. This case in Tampa wouldn’t let up and all she wanted was to be around him.

That’s how she ended up in the parking lot of the Tampa P.D, her back pressed up against their SUVs, waiting for her coffee. He turned the corner and her whole body lit up, pulling the coffee cup out of his hands.

“Woah, someone’s eager then!” He laughed.

“Shut up. I’m tired - you have no idea what rooming with JJ is like,” giving him a dirty look, she continued, “Anyways, why did you call me out here?”

It was so quiet she almost missed it.

“Pardon?” She took a sip of her coffee.”

“I just missed you.”

Cupid pulled his arrow and fired, straight into her heart.

“Spencer…”

“It’s stupid I know but I-“

She goes to protest but he stops her.

��You know we could just ask Hotch if we could pair together on the next case?”

“Spencer, you know we can’t.” Her eyes are soft, not with pity but sadness. She just wants to hold him.

“Would it be so bad if they knew?”

She paused.

“So you think it would be a bad idea then?”

“No, god no. I just don’t want anything to change.”

He gives her a perplexed look.

“It’s just… the paperwork, the stress, long nights, HR, and the rest of the team. I just don’t want them to treat us any differently.”

He slips his arm around her shoulder and meets her gaze.

“Two roads diverged in a wood, and I- I took the one less travelled by and that has made all the difference.”

She laughs, “Why are you quoting Robert Frost to me in a parking lot?”

“Because… this is not something that we can compromise on.”

There’s weight in his words.

“We either decide whether or not this, us, is worth fighting for. Sure, telling the team may be the road that few have decided upon but would you simply give up on us just because?”

She reaches for his cheek, brushing her fingers over his blush-stained cheeks.

“Okay. The road less travelled is our road then.”

He smiled and nothing in her life could ever compete with the beating of her heart and the happiness that followed them as they walked hand in hand.

He was forever.

“and that’s the thing about illicit affairs,

and clandestine meetings and longing stares.

it’s born from just one glance,

but it dies and it dies,”

It was cold when she started working at the Bureau, she could never forget it. She had wrapped herself up in her royal blue knitted scarf her grandmother gave her when she turned 16 - a small, juvenile good luck charm she kept close to her.

It also protected her from her new colleagues having to see her shiver from the cold.

Pulling it tighter around her neck as she walked into the conference room, she saw him. He sat around the roundtable, sat beside Morgan and JJ. He didn’t look up when she walked into the room but as soon as Hotch announced the newest recruit his head shot up.

His eyes met hers and her entire world shifted. Something inside her changed when she looked at him.

Her first thoughts were that he was beautiful, criminally so.

Then he started to talk and she could feel herself falling deeper and deeper into wonderland.

She was sitting at her desk when he first directly introduced himself.

“Hi, I’m Dr. Spencer Reid.” She looked up at the soft voice.

“Ah, umm, Garcia told me you were the resident genius. I’m Y/N Y/L/N.” She gave him a genuine smile, the first one she had given in a while.

“Well, I have an IQ of 187, an eidetic memory, and can read 20,000 words per minute. However, I don’t believe intelligence can be accurately measured.”

She giggled at his deflection.

“Don’t deflect - you’re a genius. It’s cool.” She shot her hand out to shake his.

Watching him carefully, he hesitated and she knew.

“Germaphobe. I get it.”

His eyes brightened at her statement.

“How did you-“

“You hesitated. Most people would return the gesture. I understand though, handshakes pass twice as many germs as giving someone a high five. I only do it to be polite.” She explained

“Kissing is safer.” He blurted out.

She laughed, “What are you insinuating Spencer?”

“N-nothing!” He stumbled over his words. “It’s just scientifically proven that kissing does not pass as many-“

“Don’t worry about it! I was only joking.”

A moment of silence as he lets his eyes trail up and down her body, almost as if he was assessing her.

“Oh. Well, in that case, I wanted to tell you that you can bring your own mug for coffee or tea and to not take mine. They’re labelled, see?” He holds out his Star Trek adorned mug.

Her heart swelled thinking about his labelled coffee cups - ‘who is this man?’ she thought.

“Well, the more you know! Thank you, Spencer.” He turns to leave. “Although,” he turns back, meeting her eyes once more, “I have to say, I do prefer Star Wars myself.”

Derek passes as she says it, muttering a small “Here we go again…” before Spencer launches into the scientific inaccuracy of Star Wars.

As he spoke so passionately, she knew from that moment she had found her kindred spirit. She wanted to know how he took his coffee, his favourite meals, where he goes when he wants a moment alone, what his favourite constellation is, where he grew up, what his family was like. She wanted to know everything. Everything and more.

She could feel the school-girl crush rise within her but this time it was different. It wasn’t juvenile nor naive, no writing his name in red hearts at the side of her work planner. It was pure and sweet, the sound of his voice was a symphony she had never heard before and one she didn’t want to stop hearing.

For the first time, she felt it. That yearning to be close to someone, to hold them, to know them. For the first time, she wasn’t scared of it.

Weeks went by and she started to write down all the little facts he would drop, sometimes half facts if the team stopped him. She wanted to remember them all, even though she knew one day she would forget. The same with his notes, she kept them stored in a memory box she had been keeping since she was little.

Full of little mementos of her life as a child, seashell necklaces and keychains from her trips to her grandparents at Christmas, to her life as a teen, the band of her prom corsage and photo-booth pictures of her and friends from her past. It hadn’t been touched since she had graduated but something told her to store them away, keep them for a rainy day, for when she needed to smile.

One day her crush on Spencer was small, minuscule, telling herself not to hope for it to be returned and the next she felt herself falling.

She was in the middle before she knew she had even begun.

“look at this godforsaken mess that you made me, you showed me colours you know i can’t see with anyone else.”

She felt like a fool, an idiot, to even believe he would come back.

Flicking through the notes he had written her, she knew she had burnt too many bridges. She smiled at the memories of her first days in the Bureau. She wonders about that scarf. Last place she remembers seeing it was in the back of her closet. She’d practically replaced it with the Doctor Who scarf Spencer had knitted and given her.

Looking down on the rest of the box, forgotten memories of her life pass her by like flickering candles in a dark room. The memories exist in her consciousness but they are not vivid. They are not as painful or as bright as the memories she shared with Spencer.

Her life shifted when she met him, she became Dorthy walking out of Kansas and into Oz when she was with him. The world was in bright technicolour. The world was her canvas and he was her paint, colours she had never seen before.

He was her muse. He was the blues and the purple-pink sunrises and sunsets. He was soft jazz playing on a late, misty Sunday afternoon when the sun is still in the sky but it’s low down, getting ready to melt into a dark night.

There was an unspoken element to their relationship, their own language; how he would drape his jacket over her on the rare chance she slept on the jet, how they would squeeze each other’s hands under the desk when a case hits home, or when he would squeeze her thigh when they drove back to either of their respective homes. It was the brush of his hand on the small of her back when they cooked together. It was the soft, longing looks that caught and knew long before she could ever call him, hers.

Her only regret was how the life they were building together ended. She can’t remember when the language they shared was forgotten but she wishes she could go back and change it. Everything else, however, she wouldn’t change for the world.

Her second glass of wine sat on the cabinet beside her. Untouched and completely still. She had drunk about half the glass. More than she would care to admit to anyone.

Alcohol was supposed to make her brave, fearless. Now, it only makes her feel numb. Something to ease the pain of watching him almost every day. She knows better to not make a habit of it. So she stops.

There were very few cars that passed by her apartment late at night. The hum of an engine pulling to a stop was familiar to her. Although, she knew it was probably just the young guy who lived in 2C. He was almost always coming home late but she wasn’t at her apartment long enough to know the patterns of her neighbours - duty always called.

She let Joni Mitchell’s sweet voice wash over her and took a sip of her wine.

‘Maybe I should look for that scarf.’ She thought.

Getting up for the first time in an hour or so, her legs creaked as she walked with the bottle of Rose and her glass in search of that scarf.

---

come chat to me about this chapter!!

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#spencer #reid #spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid/reader #spencer reid/you #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #reidxfolklore

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padfootagain · 5 years ago

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Snowstorm and Sabacc

Here I come again with a new fic for my winter event! I used our favourite reckless pilot Poe Dameron to write the snowstorm trope :)

Just a lot of fluff, I hope you all like it!

Gif not mine

Word Count :2778

"You know, when I said that I was tired of waiting around in the base and longed for some fresh air, I didn’t mean an air that fresh."

Poe merely chuckled, the sound carried away by the loud wind that roared through the branches of the trees around you. You didn’t need to hear his laughter to know that he was laughing, though. You knew him enough to know perfectly well what he was up to.

"I guess General Organa did take your word for it," he spoke loudly to cover the sound of the elements raging all around you.

"By fresh air, I didn’t mean a bleeding blizzard!" you complained just as you walked through some soft snow, your legs buried up to you knee.

You cursed between your teeth, before asking Poe for help. The pilot’s smile that lightened his features was too amused to your liking. But then, you loved when he smiled, even if it was caused by your ridicule, and that made you even madder at him.

"Just help me out, would you?" You shot him a glare as he took your hand and helped you out of the snow.

The walk through the woods was everything but simple. The terrain was rough, and the heavy snow that had been falling non-stop for a couple of weeks didn’t make the situation any easier.

Tall evergreen trees formed the forest, and you were easily lost through their resemblance. The wind turned the atmosphere colder for you than what it really was, and through the snow hitting your cheeks and wetting every inch of your body despite your warm clothes, you were starting to worry about hypothermia. For someone who came from a tropical planet, you found that Poe was surprisingly stern against these elements.

Beyond the trees, the sun was beginning to fall dangerously close to the horizon. The drop in temperatures that would follow could be lethal. And the snowstorm that was only beginning was announced to block all your movements for at least two days. You had to reach that rebel bunker in time.

"It’s not far from here, just a little further," Poe told you, as if reading your mind. "We’ll be there before nightfall."

"And if we’re not?"

"We will be."

You had always admired that side of Poe. The confident, passionate spark that seemed to be always burning behind his brown eyes. No matter how bad the situation looked, he was always the one to contradict the odds. You were a little less optimistic though.

Poe was right though, and you didn’t need so long to reach the shelter the General had promised. You were to retrieve some maps there, and use the bunker as a refuge while the storm passed. The transport coming to pick you up was to show up right after the storm lifted. That gave you two days to relax and try to understand the documents you were here to pick up. You weren’t sure what they were about. You had vaguely understood that it was about Rey, but the rest was unclear.

For now though, all you were worried about was to get to that door and finally be free of these snowflakes and wind.

The chalet was little more than four walls and a roof creaking under the pressure of the elements, threatening to be knocked down at any minute, it was far off from the bunker you had been promised. It stood in the middle of the forest, with no element to make the spot special through the ocean of trees. You wondered why it had been built there of all places. Maybe it was pure luck.

Lichens and other parasite plants grew on the rotting wood that enclosed the safe space. You wondered how the windows could be intact, but despite the dirt covering them, the glass was undamaged. A chimney shot out of one side of the roof, silent and unused. The cabin had been abandoned a long time ago.

Poe forced the door opened, but the rotten wood gave up without much of a fight.

Besides dust, there was a table and a couple of chairs inside, what one would need to cook and a bed. The hearth was empty, but there was some wood by the chimney, and it seemed that there was enough to get you through the night.

"What a delightful room we have," you mumbled, putting your backpack down by the closed door.

"Who could want a suite on Naboo when they can have this!" Poe chuckled.

"A frozen cabin in the middle of a snowstorm. You’re right, it’s much better than a warm bath and a soft bed."

"Come on, grumpy. Give me a hand with the fire, before we both freeze to death for real."

Soon there were red flames in the hearth, and Poe and you settled around the warmth. You reached for the device hidden in your backpack. You turned it on, signalling your position to the resistance.

"How long before the transport arrives after the storm?" you asked Poe.

"A good day," he answered, sniffing. "But first, we cross our fingers and pray the stars that this old shack won’t fall on our heads."

"You’ve got a point," you darkly agreed just as a loud blow shook the whole frame of the house, making every piece of wood crack and shriek in pain.

"Let’s get ready for the night, Y/L/N," he changed the subject, patting your shoulder.

The walls around you cracked again, and you were certain to see them move. You heaved a sigh… why did you have to play the hero and join the resistance in the first place?

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

"You know, of all things you could have carried across the galaxy – and I mean all the useful things that we could have used to survive – I can't believe you chose to carry a game of Sabacc."

Poe merely laughed at your remark, and won another game. You heaved a frustrated sigh.

"Lucky we're not waging with money, or I would be broke by now," you pointed out.

"You underestimated your opponent," he joked. "That ought to teach you a lesson."

"Sure does!"

"You know what kind of Sabacc game would have been fun to play, and would have not made you lose all your money?"

"Why do I have a feeling you're going to propose a form of the game where we're supposed to lose our clothes instead…"

"Exactly! Strip Sabacc!"

"That could have been arguably a good idea if we were extremely drunk, if we were not on a frozen planet and a very cold shack, and of course, if Bantas had wings," you replied, rolling your eyes.

"You're no fun, Y/L/N!"

"You're an idiot, Dameron."

Outside the snowstorm raged still, but Poe's game was a good distraction from the roaring wind. The insulation in the cabin was terrible to say the least, and the temperature was very low still, despite a fire now burning in the tiny hearth behind you. You were still wearing as many warm clothes as you could. Despite your need to sleep, the loud wind howling through the branches of the trees all around the cabin made it impossible for both of you to find peace. So, instead, you were playing, waiting for your exhaustion to be overwhelming enough for the two of you to collapse into sleep.

The game started again, but the more time flew by, the less focused you became. Thoughts drifted more and more as your fatigue grew stronger, until your mind settled back on your previous mission.

Of course, it had to. You kept on thinking about that one mission, or more precisely, about that one moment…

Poe and you caught in a crossfire, no back up, BB-8 and your ship taken away, and odds so terribly low even Poe was growing desperate.

Then the flash of red light from the shot of a blaster, bursting through the night, violent contrast with the darkness all around you. Poe falling back against the wall that sheltered both of you, holding his side, slipping down along the bricks to the ground.

You remembered the blood next, your hands pressed against the hole carved in his flesh and skin, trying to stop the liquid from flowing out. But you were failing.

You remembered Poe's reassuring smile, his eyelids drooping closed as his strengths left him, his breathes shallower and shallower every time air left his lungs. And yet, he was smiling.

He was joking about him having a bad day, while you were panicking, not knowing how to save him, what to do, how to get back to base…

He was your best friend, and you had longed for a while now for him to be even more. You couldn't lose him…

You remembered his voice, low and raspy, coming out in breathy whispers distorted with pain as he raised his hand to your cheek.

I guess, if it's my last chance to do it…

And then there were a pair of lips on yours.

You hadn't talked about the whole incident again. While Poe recovered, it seemed inappropriate. And after he had recovered, well… you had missed a couple of opportunities to do so, and you were rarely alone.

You guessed now was probably the best opportunity you would get.

"Poe… I meant to ask you…"

You left your words suspended in mid-air, your sentence unfinished, and the pilot before you merely encouraged you to continue with a curious look.

"About… our last mission together…"

"What about it?"

He didn't seem willing to let his guard down. You wondered if he merely ignored his act as a way to protect himself or if he genuinely didn't remember anything. After all, he was dying at the time.

"Well… do you remember… when you were hurt, you… I mean… Do you remember what happened then?"

"Well, you dragged me away from the fight, bandaged me the best you could. I guess we could say that you saved my life, and I owe you one."

You slowly nodded.

"And… nothing else? You don't remember anything else that happened then? Something that… you did?"

Poe remained silent for a moment, frowning, and he put down his cards. He seemed to focus, searching his memories. You couldn't breathe.

He softly hummed while thinking, and leaned across the tiny table.

"I think I know what you're referring to," he slowly nodded.

"Well… don't you think we ought to talk about it?"

"Do we?"

"I think we do, yes."

"What do you want to say about it then?"

You had to admit that you didn't expect him to react like this, so casually, avoiding the point. You recognized the ghost of an amused smile at the corner of his lips.

You guessed he would make you spit it out yourself, and you hated him for it.

"Well, first thing, I'd like to know if you… I mean…" you stuttered, tripping upon your own words and your heartbeat erratic in your chest. "Did you mean that? I mean… you kissed me. Did you mean it or was it… just… a kiss because you thought you were dying and you would have kissed basically anyone who was there?"

His smile grew more evident, pulled from the shadows to shed a bright light on the room. There was a mix of tenderness and amusement painted all over his features that made you forget about the storm outside, that quietened the roaring wind and the snow smashed against the windows. The threat of the First Order suddenly felt remote, too far to be relevant now. But then, Poe had always had this effect on you. Just one of his smiles made you feel perfectly safe.

"You think I spend all my free time kissing strangers around the galaxy?" he asked back with a joking tone.

But you were not in a mood for laughing it off.

"No, but you were dying."

"Right… losing lots of blood too, if I remember right."

"Exactly! Perhaps you weren't thinking straight."

He remained silent for a moment, before reaching for your hand. His hold was reassuring and warm, calloused fingers brushing softly against the back of your hand. And while you stared at his dark brown eyes, looking almost black in the dim light shed by the burning flames, the world around you vanished, disappearing to leave only his gaze. When he answered, his voice was low and as warm as the flames by your side.

"Maybe I was thinking more clearly than I ever have before."

You stopped breathing altogether.

"What?"

He heaved a sigh.

"I… I've felt like this for a long time. Didn't mean to blow up our friendship, our team, though. Plus… a war isn't the best place to get involved in a relationship. But then, I almost died and… It sounds cliché, but dying does make you realize a thing or two. Like… the fact that it's worth taking the risk. I've been hiding my feelings for so long, and maybe the secret is not worth the stakes. Perhaps the leap of faith is worth the risk to fall. I know the war is making everything harder, and I know that we're friends but… I haven't seen you as a mere friend in a long, long time."

He gave you a sad smile, releasing a long breath he didn't even know he was holding, and he surprised you as you found withheld tears shining in his dark brown eyes.

"No matter what you say now, you can't imagine how good it feels to let it all out," he chuckled, out of breath.

You only noticed the tears rolling down your cheeks when you felt their salty taste pass your lip.

"That's a hell of a confession, Dameron," you smiled through your tears.

"You want a hell of a confession?" he asked, tightening his hold on your fingers. "How about: I love you, Y/N?"

It was your turn to tighten your hold on his hand. You were trapped in his dark, almost black irises because you could see the truth in his gaze, you could hear his honesty in his soft tone, feel how genuine his touch was. And you knew that he meant it all.

"We were kind of stupid to wait for so long, right?" you asked, brushing your tears away and grinning instead.

"Is that the beginning of a confession I hear, Y/L/N?"

You were about to speak again when the wind blew stronger than before, and the noise was so loud that you couldn't ignore it. The shout creaked through the branches of the trees, high-pitched and low at the same time, almost a human voice coming out of the shadows. Your belief in the Force made you wonder if it was a spirit of some kind. Both you and Poe had looked at the window in a jolt, but the sound slowly waned, swallowed by the night again. You focused on Poe again as you heard the table being pushed aside to allow him to get closer to you.

"It's just the wind," he whispered, and you were painfully aware of how close his face had come to yours now. "It's just a storm. It will pass, like all storms do."

You smiled again.

"Well, you've been a storm blowing upon my life for years, and you give me no sign that you'll pass any time soon."

He chuckled, and nodded in response.

"Some kind of storms are good to have around," he argued.

"You know what? I think that for once, you're right."

Your two smiles widened at the joke, and his face was now close enough to yours for you to feel his warm breath against your lips.

"I think I've got an idea or two for us to pass the time while this storm outside rages on," he offered.

"What could that be?"

"A surprise I think you'll like it."

"Really?"

"Really."

You let him lean closer, and closer, and closer until your lips brushed, touched, intertwined.

When you eventually broke away, the words escaped you without giving you a chance to hold them back.

"I love you, Poe."

The pilot could only grin.

"I hoped you'd say that."

The next moment, his lips were on yours again, your fingers lost in his dark curls, and his arms wrapped around you to draw you closer, impossibly close. The game of Sabacc was left disregarded next to you, the snowstorm forgotten, even the war seemed too far to be cared for.

It was just the two of you. And it was enough.

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

Taglist : @ponycake27 @horsesreign @xinyourdreamsx @jbluevelvet @notkeppeki @daynigt-dreamer-stuff @fudgeflyss @stuckupstucky @snek-shit @suchatinyinfinity @i-padfootblack-things @buckybsarmy @heyohheyitsgabi@jigsawlover10 @emyyjemyy @addictedtofictionalcharacters @wangmangagavroche @that-bwitch @wearetalkingtoyou @mxrihollxd @iwanttomeetnewpeople @yana-versio

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chickensarentcheap · 4 years ago

Text

Best Part of Me -Chapter 61

Warnings: violence, forced drug use

Translations:

Cchod do: Give up

Kabhee Naheen: Never

Tagging: @innerpaperexpertcloud, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @alievans007, @ocfairygodmother

Ten thirty at night and the heat is unbearable. The humidity hangs heavily; thick and suffocating, a visible haze floating inches above the ground and casting an eerie, ominous glows around the streetlights. Sweat already glistens on his brow and the nape of his neck and gathers along his hairline, sitting briefly at his temples before trickling down the sides of his face. Even in the short time it took him to walk the two blocks from his drop off point, his clothes are already damp; shirt clinging between his shoulders and to the small of his back. His knee and his shoulder are already throbbing when he reaches his destination: an alley behind a derelict and boarded up building. An old factory that had gone out of business in the early sixties and then turned into a residence dedicated to overseas students. Years of neglect and an absentee landlord had been its demise; now sticking out like a sore thumb among the trendy cafes, bars, and restaurants and high end fashion boutiques. While it is no longer of use to the general public, it provides Tyler with exactly what he needs; an excellent vantage point of his four targets and the opportunity for clear and precise shots. And while the heat is nauseating and incessant, the weather is actually an asset; the air perfectly still, no chance of the breeze fucking up a kill by catching a bullet. It’s not uncommon; the elements working against you. Wind is especially troublesome, and he’d take the driving rain and even blinding snow over it any day of the week.

He uses the fire escape to get to the fifth floor; gaining access to the building through a shattered window. Removing the rucksack from his shoulder, he tosses it inside before gingerly swinging leg over the edge and then the other. He pulls the hood of the sweater he wears under his tactical vest over his head; protecting himself from the remaining shards of jagged and dangerously sharp glass. It’s half an hour before ‘go time’ and he slowly and carefully navigates his way through the abandoned building. Floors bowing and loudly creaking under his feet; having to step over gaps left by missing wooden boards. A musty smell hangs in the air; accompanied by the distinct odor of rotting garbage and fecal matter, likely both animal AND human. So powerful that it not only makes him gag and forces him to bring part of his hoodie up over his mouth and nose, but immediately brings back memories of Dhaka. Of having to take refuge in the ‘worst sewer on the planet’; wading through shin high water filled with trash and attempting to avoid the rats that had long ago made the place home. Of the call to Nik and his insistence that she call Gaspar for help.

It’s almost seven years ago but it’s as vivid and real as it was just yesterday. The sounds, the smell, those brief feelings of defeat and hopelessness. And Nik’s voice. There’d been something in it; the way she’d argued with him and tried to convince him that calling Gaspar was a terrible idea. He hadn’t paid attention to it at the time. Anxious to get the fuck out of that sewer and to somewhere quiet and safe; where he could sit back for a couple of days and figure out a way to get the fuck out of Dhaka in once piece. It wasn’t just his life hanging in the balance, and even then he’d been more than willing to sacrifice his own for theirs. As long as the kid and the girl got out safe, that’s all that had mattered. Maybe he HAD been looking for absolution; a chance to do one thing right that would make up for all the bad decisions he’d made, all the wrong he’d committed through his thirty-five years.

“For fuck sake, get it together,” Tyler mutters aloud, then pushes all thoughts and memories of Dhaka out of his mind.

Now is NOT the time to dig up old ghosts. Not the place to be allowing the demons out to play; the worst possible moment to be dwelling on the past and second guessing decisions he’d made nearly seven years ago. And he hitches the bag further up onto his shoulder and rounds the bank of three elevators -iron gates as opposed to actual doors, now rotting and stuck in place- and heads for the south side of the fifth floor. Counting the steps in his head; remembering exactly how many paces it had been between where he’d entered through and the beginning of the hall.

The room is empty; paint peeling off the bare walls and not a single stitch of furniture left behind. But it’s exactly where he wants it; a perfect view of the entrance of a busy restaurant/bar belonging to number five on the list. A well known hang out for those in Mahajan’s circle; a place recognized for its live entertainment and world renowned chef and its abundance of top shelf liquor. He can hear the music and the crowd gathered inside from where his; pounding bass and muffled conversations and laughter. Too loud for anyone on the street to hear as he proceeds to break out glass in the window; long screwed shit, the bolts rusted permanently in place. And he unzips and shrugs out of the hoodie without removing the vest, hastily folding it and then using it to line the window ledge; protecting his forearms from minute shards of class and protruding nails and shedding paints.

There’s a lone bouncer across the street; too busy flirting with a gaggle of pretty girls that want free entrance to notice what’s going on less than a hundred feet away. But once the first shot is taken, all attention will be diverted Tyler’s way, and it’s better not to give anyone a larger target to engage with. Staying low is the safest and best bet, and the rifle he’d chosen gives little to no flash back and will enable him to stay relatively hidden. And he kneels alongside of the window, out of sight as he pulls the separate pieces out of the rucksack; effortlessly and efficiently snapping them into place and then slipping a magazine into the well. He’s brought extra. Years of having jobs go to complete and utter shit long ago convincing him that it’s better to be over prepared than under; extra clips stored in the pockets on the front of his vest, both for the rifle and the Glock that sits in the holster on his right hip.

From one of the rear compartments he pulls out a bottle of anti anxiety meds; dumping six into his palm and then swallowing them dry. His hands aren’t as steady as he’d like them to bed; the two whiskys and three shots of tequila he’d taken before leaving have done little to settle his raw and jagged nerves. A sleepless night -and afternoon when he’d tried to get some rest- leaving him irritable and on edge. It’s all starting to catch up to him; the difficulty being away from his family, the seriousness of the threats made against them, the reality of his own vulnerability and the very real possibility he won’t walk away from Mumbai. It’s a lot to shoulder, and mixed with already existing mental health issues, constant physical pain, and the daily occurrence of horrific nightmares, it’s all becoming too much to handle. A year ago...two years ago...none of this would have been his issues. His confidence in his skills and abilities enough to get him through any job. And while it’s still there lingering under the surface, it’s threatening to be overshadowed by all the turmoil and suffering.

“You in?” Yaz’ voice pipes up through the receiver in his ears, and he taps a finger against the disk attached to the front of his vest.

“Yeah. I’m in..”

“Guy on the inside says things look like they’re starting to move already. Might want to be ready to go early. Just in case.”

“I’m already about two steps ahead of you.”

“Remember, don’t shoot the guy in the Florida State ball cap. He’s one of ours.”

“He gets in my way, I’m taking the shot. I don’t care who he belongs to.”

“What’s the lighting situation like?”

Tyler grimaces as he pushes himself up onto one knee, then peers out the window. “Streetlights are good. I’ve got a scope just in case, but I don’t think I’ll need it.”

“You see Nathan? He’s in one of the apartments above the club.”

“I don’t see shit, Yaz. As long as he’s there, I don’t give a fuck. Just tell him to watch my back.”

No sooner do the words leave his mouth, he catches glimpse of the beam from a flashlight in the building across the street. Once. Twice. Nathan letting him know his exact location. That had been the compromise he’d agreed to; a backup without having someone breathing down his neck.

He finds a discarded sheet of cardboard in the corner and folds it into fours. It’s still rough and ridged, but has more give then the old wooden floors and will give him something for his bad knee to rest on. Even the protective gear already strapped around his leg does little to relieve even the slightest amount of pressure put on it, and he knows that’s a sign that things have gone far beyond a simple fix. Whether it be complications from the replacement finally catching up to him or another injury all together, he knows there’s time in the OR in his near future.

“Things are starting to move,” Yaz says. “You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be, I guess.” Tyler picks a spot near the right side of the window; the slight diagonal angle gives him a better view of the front entrance and guaranteeing a kill shot to the side of the head as opposed to the front. He’s seen people dropped by those kinds of hits, only to survive and need a second bullet to finish the job. It needs to be quick and efficient; four victims, four bullets. There’s no time to waste, and if Mahajan’s people ARE that good, within thirty seconds of his first kill they’ll figure out his position. And it will seem like a ten mile hike back to where he’d come in if he has guys on his ass, gunning for him.

Outside the street lights flicker. Once. Twice. Followed by a brief pause before the flashing becomes more persistent.

“Rake, are you seeing this shit?” Nathan inquires through the earpiece.

“I’m seeing it.”

“Some kind of power surge? Wonder if it’s going to go off the grid.”

The flickering continues, and he pushes himself up onto one knee and looks out the windows. First to the left, then to the right. “Only two lights doing it are the one right in front of us. What’s going on, Yaz? You guys fucking with the lights?”

“Nothing on our end. Probably just malfunctioning. As long as you can still see, we’re good to go.”

Tyler uses a forearm to wipe sweat from his forehead, then briefly lays the rifle across his thigh and runs his clammy palms against his cargo pants.

“Hotter than Satan’s nut sack out here.” Nathan remarks, and he can’t help but chuckle in response. A sound that echoes in the empty room and then is quickly replaced by a string of profanities when the streetlights flicker three more times before going out completely.

“Fuck me,” Tyler growls. “What the fuck, Yaz? We have no light now. What the hell is going on? What are you guys doing? One of you dumb asses flick the wrong switch?”

“It isn’t us. We’re going to get into the system and see what’s up. Hang tight.”

Sighing, Tyler sets the rifle down beside him and reaches for the rucksack; fingers brushing against the fabric when he hears the creak of a loose floorboard behind him and sees the faint shadow cast upon the walls. His chest tightens; blood running cold despite the stifling temperature of the room. It all happens so fast; hand reaching for the gun on his hip, only to have a solid punch land in the middle of his shoulder blade. It sends intense, crippling pain rocketing down to his fingers; muscles immediately contracting and tightening and locking up, rendering his right arm useless. A hand wraps around his throat, fingers digging into flesh and muscle; grip shockingly strong and threatening to cut off his airway. He drops to the floor, pressing his heels into the battered and weathered wood. Using the strength and the power of his legs to push both himself and his assailant backwards; soles of his boot desperately looking for whatever friction it can. And he drops his chin towards his chest; sinking his teeth into the hand that’s around his throat, biting down into the space between the thumb and forefinger.

His attacker screams in pain and the grip loosens, allowing Tyler to finally draw air into his air starved lungs. Still gasping for breath and his legs still pushing his body backwards, until his movement is stilled by the wall and he’s able to use it to his advantage; pushing through his heels in order to get himself up onto his feet and then directing his left elbow into the large -yet not as strong or agile- man’s ribs. Hearing the cry of pain and the distinct cracking of bone. He attempts to turn; reaching for the gun on his right hip with his left hand, only to have a boot slam into the back of his right knee. It causes the leg to collapse underneath him, and the surge of pain both temporarily blinds him AND takes his breath away. And he’s suddenly aware of the the press of his stomach against the floor; trying to push himself towards the discarded rifle, only to have his movements made futile when his assailant’s heavy body comes down on top of his and a knee is pressed into each of his biceps in an effort to keep him still. The man above mumbling threats and profanities in Hindi when he refuses to give up. Attempting to use his left knee and arm to drag himself across the floor; the entire right side of his body numb and useless.

Through the ear piece he can hear Yaz attempting to reach him, and outside there’s the distinct sound of four separate gunshots as Nathan handles the situation out on the street. Tyler’s fight instinct refuses to let up; there’s too much to lose, five little kids that need him, a family that loves him, a long and happy future with the love of his life. This isn’t how it’s supposed to end.

This ISN’T how it will end.

He’s able to push himself up onto his left knee in attempts to small the back of his skull against his attacker’s throat, only to have a hand grab a fistfulof his hair anad forecefully yank his head back. The other man wears a simple black ski mask, but his eyes are visible in the moonlight; dark and full of rage and determination. And enjoyment.

“Chhod do!” The assailant snarls. “Chhod do!”

Give up.

“Fuck you,” Tyler snarls.

The chuckle brought on by his defiance is just as evil as the eyes staring down at him. And the knees press deeper and harder into his biceps; quickly cutting off the circulation in his arms, and he tries once again to slam his head back in hopes of connecting with something...anything. Only to have the fist tighten its grip on his hair.

“Chhod do!”

He shakes his head and uses both knees to slide himself forward; flat on his stomach, arms rendered useless, toes of his boots pressing into the floor to give him a better push off. The body above is heavier, but the reflexes not as quick and the instincts not as sharp. And he’s able to move himself far enough that his fingers skim the barrel of the rifle.

A punch to the side of the throat has him both choking for air and collapsing onto the floor. Hand still reaching for the weapon despite the knee pressed into his arm. There’s no other option. If he keeps fighting, there’s a chance he’ll walk out of the room. If he gives up, no one will ever find his body. If there’s even any piece of it TO find.

The hand abandons his hair and wraps around his throat once more; two fingers pressing and digging into the side of his neck. Intentionally targeting the thick, still raised scar left behind from Dhaka. The agony that shoots through his body is intense, and he’s unable to stop himself from letting out a strangled, choked cry of pain; his entire body locking up and his toes curling within his boots. And the fingers press even deeper into that surgically repaired vein; the one that had been all but shredded and decimated by Farhad’s bullet. And he’s unsure if that spot being targeted or the other fingers firmly wrapped around his throat is what causes his vision to blur and the room starts to spin.

“Cchod do!”

“No,” Tyler manages. “Never. Fuck you. Kabhee naheen.”

He tries to himself up onto both knees but fails; the assailant’s still attempting to keep his arms pinned down, and he struggles to draw breath into his lungs; throat slowly collapsing and his brain swimming. Out of the corner of his eye he sees it; the tip of a hypodermic needle glistening in the moonlight. And the brief glimmer of fear, the realization that this could very well be the end, give his body one last burst of energy. Forcing himself up onto his knees and managing to bring his head forward and then slam it backwards; successfully shattering his attacker’s nose and knocking out his front teeth. It does little to stop the man from his quest; a forearm wrapping around Tyler’s neck. And he feels the initial pinch of the needle being pushed into his skin; a pained groan and a litany of profanities tumbling from his lips when it's brutally jammed into his neck. Eyes briefly squeezing shut and his teeth digging into his bottom lip as he feels the cold, almost painful burning of the unknown liquid entering his blood stream.

“Motherfucker!” Tyler roars, and sinks his teeth into the forearm wrapped around his throat; deep enough to break the skin. His attacker’s scream echoing through the room; the bitter taste of blood on his lips and tongue. It’s enough to get free, and he flips onto his back and reaches across his body with his hand to yank the gun from its holster; flicking off the safety and then pressing the barrel to the underside of the other man’s chin. Pulling the trigger just as two hands reach for his throat.

****

When he finally comes to, it’s with a violent gasp of breath and his eyes snapping open. The room is spinning; lights from the street and the shadows of passing cars dancing on smooth walls. The space is empty and bare yet colors and objects swirl around him; his brain attempting to make sense of what he’s seeing, what he’s hearing, where he is. There’s a metallic taste coating his tongue and a burning in the roof of his mouth and in the back of his throat and he feels numb; a cool, tingling sensation that he feels from the roots of his hair to the very tips of his toes. He can hear voices...sounds...muffled and garbled as if he’s listening to them underwater. Honking horns and police sirens and people yelling out on the street. Someone saying his name through the piece of silicone in his ear. Confused and muddled mind desperately trying to make sense of what is being said; something about the cops swarming and Nathan taking off and being AWOL and someone coming to help and to just hang in there. Don’t move.

So many questions. Where the hell is he? Why is he here? Why are there cops around? Who the fuck is Nathan?

Tyler knows he should have the answers. That he DOES have them. That if his head would just stop swimming and the room would stop spinning, and the lights on the walls would stop flickering and flashing, he would be able to make sense of what’s going on around him. He opens his mouth to speak; snapping his jaw shut when he realizes he can’t. That it feels as if his throat, lips, and tongue are frozen. That while his brain is able to come up with SOME words, they disappear before they actually reach his mouth.

It isn’t until he attempts to sit up that panic sets in; his body feeling as if it’s glued to the floor; head and limbs impossibly heavy and refusing to budge from their resting place. His heart thunders in his chest and the blood rushes through his ears; lungs and throat both tightening and aching. And he tries desperately to get his arms and his legs to move; groaning and growling in frustration, tears of both fear and confusing trickling down his face.

He squeezes his eyes shut. Forcing himself to inhale deeply and exhale slowly. Waiting several minutes until his breathing has slowed and calmed before trying again, Jamming his shoulder into the sternum of the body that lays on top of him; not knowing who it is or how the hell they got there and wondering if they’re alive or dead. After he shoves them over onto the floor, he manages to roll over onto his side. Feeling groggy and dizzy as he pushes himself up onto his elbow; eyes rapidly blinking in a vain attempt to bring the room into focus. Everything is blurry; colour muted. Sounds are becoming clearer and his body is beginning to regain small, slow movements, but his brain still struggles to piece everything together. He’s vaguely aware of a stabbing pain in the side of his neck, and with a shaky hand and fingers, he reaches up and yanks at the offending object. Eyes widening when his mind processes just WHAT he’d been stabbed with.

“What the fuck?” His words are slurred. Speech slow and measured. And he tosses the needle aside and attempts to push himself up into sit; nearly collapsing backwards. Instead he props himself up onto his elbow once again and uses it and both feet to push and drag himself across the dirty floor. Until his back is pressed against the wall and he’s able to reach up and grab a hold of the window sill.

Tyler struggles to his feet; heaving to lean against the window ledge in order to catch his breath. Even that small bit of movement makes him feel tired. All he wants to do is sleep; lie down and curl up in a ball and stay there for days. But he has to move. Somehow...despite the dense fog cluttering his brain and his confusion regarding just where he is and what the hell happened...knowing that he can’t stay there.

He initially stumbles when he tries to simply put one foot in front of the other, then presses his back against the wall and uses it as a guide as he makes his way towards the door. Vision blurry and his heath both pounding AND spinning as he gingerly makes his way around the room. Each step taking him closer to the exit and his freedom.

The hallway is harder to navigate with no light coming in from the outside, and he tries to force his hazy eyes to focus in the dark. Legs seeming as if they’re made of concrete when he tries to pick his feet up to step over the gaps left by missing boards. There HAS to be stairs. Didn’t he come up a flight of stairs? Or was that outside? He can remember the sound of metal under the soles of his boots and the slight sway and shudder of the narrow stairs under his broad, heavy frame.

Where am I? Why the fuck am I even here?

And where the hell is the exit?”

Tyler pauses. Suddenly aware that he’s back at the exact same spot he started at. Did he ever even move? He’d thought he was walking. Fairly certain that he’d actually been taking steps and not imagining them.

Confusion and panic set in once again. This time partnered with anger. And he manages to shout a string of profanities into the darkened building and puts a fist through of the decaying walls.

“Alright...easy...easy…”

He recognizes the voice that comes from behind him, and the hand that’s placed on his shoulder is both firm and comforting. And it’s not until he turns around to face them that he realizes he’s in the midst of a panic attack. That he’s making choked, gulping sounds as he lungs try to draw in air and that there’s tears streaming down his face; his entire body drawn incredibly tight and close to seizing.

“You’re alright, mate,” Koen says. “You’re okay. Breathe. Just breathe, son.”

Anil is there as well, a flashlight in one hand, a bottle of water in the other. And Tyler doesn’t protest when the latter is pressed against his lips and the ice cold liquid is poured into his mouth and down his throat; some trickling down his chin and landing on the front of his blood and sweat soaked vest.

Whose blood is it? His? The person who’d been lying on top of him? He begins frantically patting himself down, looking for any sign of injury.

“Can you hear me?” Koen grabs him by the face. “Tyler! Can you hear me?!”

Still no words will come. He nods instead.

“Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Another nod.

“What happened?”

He shrugs.

“He’s pretty fucked up,” Koen says to Anil, who returns from a brief inspection of the room; rucksack over his shoulder, needle in his hand. “Like he’s in shock or something.”

“Did they give you this?” Anil inquires, holding aloft the needle. “That guy in there…” he jerks his head towards the room. “...did he give you this?”

Tyler nods, then places a shaky hand against his neck.

“He’s not in shock,” Anil says. “He’s doped up, Whatever they gave him? Whatever this is?” He nods down at the needle, then slips it into his pocket. “That’s what did this.”

“What do you think it is?” Koen asks.

“Could be anything. Could be something illegal like heroin or meth. Could be something like propofol or ketamine. I have people who can check it out. There’s someone dead in there. He attacked you?” Anil addresses Tyler. “Hey!” He aggressively smacks the back of his hand against Tyler’s cheek. “The man in there. He attacked you?”

Tyler shrugs.

“He doesn’t remember shit,” Koen grumbles. “Now what?”

“We get him out of here. Before the cops search here too. Can you walk on your own? Do you need us to help?”

Tyler’s eyes briefly close. He sways uneasily on his feet. Then turns and vomits on the floor.

“I think he needs our help,” Koen says,

****

Two hours later he finds himself fairly lucid; standing in the shower with near scalding water pounding down on his naked body. The agony is relentless; starting at the roots of her hair and settling in the tips of his toes. Injuries already obvious; lines of deep bruises beginning to form on every possible inch of his throat, upper arms and along the small of his back, the pain in his shoulder only subsiding when his arm is motionless and laid across his chest, bloody, open wounds where hair had been yanked from his scalp. In the coming days everything will be more prominent; horrendous shades of purple and black, various swellings that will be painful under even the softest of touch. But for now he enjoys the relief the hot water provides his body with; eyes closed and chin tucked into his chest, palms flat against the tiles in order to keep himself on his feet. Some of the dizziness remains, but the events of the evening are slowly becoming clearer. He’s finally able to remember not only where he was and why he’d been there, but how he’d ended up in the fight of his life; passing out and regaining consciousness with a dead body lying on top of him.

Whatever had been in the needle had hit him hard and fast; far stronger than any pain med or recreational drug that he’d ever tried. Anil would find out what it was; friends in high places able to do tests on the syringe to tell them exactly what he’d been injected with and how to deal with the side effects caused by whatever remained in his system. The immediate plan is to rest and hydrate; get as much liquid into him as possible to flush his system and clean out whatever toxin is still lingering.

His eyes snap open at the sound of the shower curtain rustling, and he smirks at the sigh of Koen’s hand appearing at the edge of the plastic. A bottle of Gatorade in his possession.

“You alive in there, mate?”

“I’m alive,” Tyler confirms.

“Drink up,” Koen orders. “Gotta try and clean that shit out of you.”

He takes the drink that’s offered, downing the entire bottle in record time.

“You need anything?” Koen asks.

“I’m good.”

“You feeling dizzy? Like you’re gonna pass out? Can you hear me okay?”

“I’m answering, aren’t I? And no; I’m not going to pass out. I feel alright. Hungry though for some reason.”

‘Cause you just spent the last hour throwing up. Got nothing left in the tank. I’ll order you something. What do you want? What do you feel like?”

“Anything. I don’t care.”

“I’m on it. Towel and a pair of sweats are on the toilet. You need anything, you holler.”

“I’m not going to ask you to scrub my back or hold my cock when I take a piss, so you don’t get your hopes up.”

“You don’t mind if I peek though, do you?” Koen teases, and looks around the edge of the curtain.

Tyler scowls. “Fuck off, you drongo. What’s wrong with you?”

“NOW I see why she stays with you. Looking like that before things even get to half mast? I don’t blame the girl for not leaving you. Where else is she going to find something like THAT?”

“Get the fuck out of here.” Tyler snarls, and yanks the curtain closed.

“Don’t be shy, blue eyes. Who do you think got you into the shower? Who do you think had to undress you and haul your ass in there? Nothing I haven’t seen before. I am jealous as fuck, though.”

“We can’t all be big boys, Koen. I’m sure you have a lovely personality the ladies just love.”

“Have we met?” Koen scoffs, then chuckles as he walks out of the bathroom.

It takes Tyler half an hour just to dry himself off. The dizziness returning every couple of minutes and forcing him to sit down on the edge of the tub in order to get himself together. The anxiety is still there; heightened by the realization of just how fucking close he’d come. Not to death. It had been quite that it wasn’t his demise that his assailant had been after. He was meant to be a trophy. A plaything, even. The drugs had been to render him incapable of fighting back; make him as vulnerable and weak as possible. More than likely there’d been a team of guys waiting to help transport him outside of city limits, where Mahajan’s people would get off on torturing him. Days. Weeks. Hell, even months. Until he was begging them to kill him. And he doesn’t want to think about that. Not just about what he would have been subjected to, but the fact that he would have never, ever, seen his family again. Mahajan never would have let him escape, nor would he have shown mercy and just let him go once he felt the lesson had been adequately taught. Each day the torture would have become worse and worse, until he had no quality of life and death was the only merciful ending.

His hands are shaking again; head swimming as he pulls on the gray sweats that Koen had left out for him. He needs meds. Maybe a drink. Definitely something to eat and a few hours sleep.

“Look at you,” Koen gives a playful whistle when he emerges from the bathroom. “All clean and smelling good. Look at that hair. Look at how fluffy it is when it’s all clean and shit. Look how cute you are.”

His pace is still slow and measured; a side effect from whatever he’d been given and the agony in his knee. And he gives a wince and pained groan as he collapses onto his bed. “If you’re trying to flirt with me, save your breath. You’re not very good at it.”

“You should call your wife,” Koen says, then tosses Tyler his cell phone.

“It’s one thirty in the morning.”

“You got about fifteen calls from her and about as many text messages. You were supposed to call when things got handled, yeah? Well it’s been three hours and she hasn’t heard from you. Poor thing’s probably scared shitless.”

“What if she’s asleep?”

“You really think she’s going to sleep if she hasn’t from you? Call her.” Koen climbs off his own bed, grabbing a bottle of beer from the nightstand. “Don’t worry, lover boy. I’ll give you your privacy.”

He picks the phone up from the mattress as Koen steps out onto the balcony and slides the door shut behind him. And he frowns at how shaky his hands are; wondering it’s from the drugs he’d been given or if it’s his bad nerves. Or a mixture of both. And he hopes he can keep it together while he speaks to her; that he sounds lucid enough that there’s nothing in his voice that gives away just how fucked up he actually is. She doesn’t need to know what went down. Not only will it add even more stress and worry to her already overflowing plate, but she’ll only want to come and stay with him. She’d FIND a way to make it happen. And while he desperately wants and needs to see her, their kids need her more.

“Are you okay?” Esme answers on the third ring, and he can hear Addie’s shrill, kitten like cry. “Oh my god Tyler, where have you been? I’ve been worried fucking sick!”

“What’s wrong with the baby?”

“Nothing. She just woke up for something to eat. She’ll be fine in a second. Are you alright? I’ve been trying to call you. Text you. You haven’t returned anything. What’s going on?”

“Things went a little sideways,” he admits, and the baby finally quiets down, comforted now that she’s at the breast.

“What happened? Are you okay?”

“Things went a bit to shit. Nothing too serious. Guy jumped me while I was getting ready to do the job.

“Jumped you? What…?”

“I’m fine. A little banged up. Nothing serious. Some cuts, a couple bruises. I would have called earlier but when the shooting started, the cops showed up and we had to lie low for a while. I just got back to the hotel.”

“But you’re okay? Please tell me you’re okay.” She sounds dangerously close to tears.

“I’m fine,” Tyler assures her. “A little sore. Nothing some sleep and some meds won’t take care of. Are YOU okay?”

“I am no. Now that I know you’re alright. That I know you’re alive. You scared the shit out of me. You called earlier but you didn’t say anything. All I could hear was you breathing and it sounded like you were trying to say something but I couldn’t make it out.”

Shit, he silently curses. He doesn’t remember that. At all. But somewhere in between shooting his assailant and passing out, he must have attempted...for some reason...to get a hold of her. Was it a call for help? Was it because he was scared he was dying and thought that was his last chance to tell her he loved her? Did he phone her because he wanted her voice to be the last thing he heard. Fuck. It’s all a goddamn mystery. As if it never even happened.

“Tyler?”

“What time did I call it?” he asks.

“Quarter after eleven. Eleven thirty. Something like that. You don’t remember calling?”

“I must have pocket dialed you by accident,” he lies. “Things hadn’t gone to shit yet. Must have hit something by mistake. Sorry, baby. I didn't mean to call. I didn’t mean any of the kids up.”

“This place is so big, there’s no way they heard my phone from their rooms.”

“Are they okay?”

“They had a busy day. Lots of time in the pool, tons of time playing outside. They got to try new food and they were taught how to make naan bread and some kind of dessert I can’t pronounce. Millie’s over the moon because she got to hold a sloth. She even let it crawl all over her. That kid has no fear, whatsoever. She’ll try anything once.”

“And Tanner? He any better?”

“Talking to you did him a lot of good. He’s lightened up a bit. I think he’s finally grasping the fact that he’s NOT getting a new dad. I don’t even know what made him that in the first place. Like I’d ever trade you in.”

“Not even for Anil and his hundreds of millions?”

“Not for anyone. I like having you around. I kind of have a crush on you.”

Tyler grins. “I kind of have a crush on you, too.”

“We’re okay. It’ll get a little better each day. And Tanner’s in with TJ now. All cuddled up together in one bed. They’re definitely not ready to be apart from one another for very long. I hope it stays like that. I hope they’re still best friends when they're older. That they don’t start fighting over the same girls.”

“Bros before hoes, right?”

Esme laughs at that, “Right. Are you sure you’re okay? You sound a little...I don’t know...weird. Have you been drinking?”

“Not recently.”

“You sound like you have. You’re slurring your words a bit.”

“Just tired. It’s been a long day and I’m pretty beat. Gonna have something to eat and get some sleep. I’m sorry I didn’t call sooner. I didn’t mean to worry you. That’s the last thing I wanted to do.”

“I’m just glad you’re okay,” she says. “Maybe I can sleep now. I’d sleep a lot better if you were here. Even with your snoring and your cold feet. Is it weird I miss those things?”

“Is it weird I miss you talking in your sleep and hogging all the blankets?”

“I think it’s sweet. And cute. You’re sweet and cute.”

He grins. “You’re delirious from lack of sleep.”

“You ARE cute and sweet. And I miss you. I miss everything about you.”

He swallows around the lump of emotion sitting in his throat. “I miss you too, baby. You get some sleep, okay? Give little peanut a hug and kiss from daddy.”

“I will. I love you, Tyler.”

“I love you too, Esme. So much. I’ll call you when I get up.”

“Okay,” she says with a yawn. “Sleep well. Or try to, at least. See you when I see you.”

“That’s MY line.”

“Not tonight it isn’t,” she says with a sleepy giggle, and then disconnects the call.

Sighing heavily, he drops the phone onto the mattress and runs his hands over his face as he leans back against the headboard. Eyes closed, a forearm across his brow. Unable to hold back the flood of tears that stream down his face or the heavy, painful sobs that wrack his entire body.

#Tyler rake #tyler rake fan fiction #tyler rake fan fic #extraction #extraction 2020 #best part of me #chris hemsworth character

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that-banana-headed-bovine · 4 years ago

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Season 2 Shenanigans

AHEYYY sO I went on a giant Knight Rider binge the last few days, and I've FINALLY seen all of Season 2!! Big thank you to @trust-doesnt-oxidize who watched with me and stayed up absurdly late because I wanted to see Garthe before I went to bed AIDBWJFNEM

I just wanted to post a quick reaction to all of the episodes, spoiler warning activated!

Goliath Parts 1 & 2

I LOVE MY DOOFY VILLAIN SON. K.I.T.T. is HILARIOUS, I love his dynamic with Goliath, as is evident by my handle oops- I hate how Season 2 starts with my son almost dying tho, almost had a heart attack tyvm! This is back before I knew anything about the direction of the rest of the series so I was legitimately in shock lmbo- Moustache Michael is a gem tho I love him. I SURE HOPE HE STAYS A DUMB VILLAIN WHO'S JUST REALLY SILLY TO WATCH. SURE HOPE THEY DON'T TAKE HIM TOO SERIOUSLY.

Brother's Keeper - Blind Spot

I- forgot that these episodes existed until I looked at the episode list for this, soooo...

I should really not be lazy and look up an episode summary and try to remember what I thought of these but the problem is that I am in fact going to be lazy because this post is already taking so long

Return to Cadiz

This episode is so,,, frustrating. Not the plot or the format or anything like that, nono... I mean how they essentially introduced April. Like, okay, I know that she has been here since the beginning of Season 2, but she hadn’t really said much up until now. This was where we really got to know who she would be, and, uh... After this episode, I absolutely hated her. Despised even. She forces my son to go drive on the same ocean on the same beach where Karr DIED without any testing beforehand AND is chastising Michael in a flirtatious way. The heCK is this woman?! WHERE’S MY BONNIE???!!! I was so mad at her you guys I. But the thing is, I don’t hate April, not by a long shot. In some ways, the rest of Season 2 does a better job giving her a character than all of Season 1 did for Bonnie! I really enjoyed April and wish that both could have stayed. BUT THIS EPISODE makes her SO HATEABLE and I just ugh.

also I tried to watch this a long time before I got to and after seeing the intro and not knowing the title of K.I.T.T. vs. K.A.R.R. at that point in time, I thought Karr was gonna come back based on all the panoramic shots of the underwater and I am so sad that he didn’t so oops this episode gets my wrath a bit

K.I.T.T. the Cat

0/10 there are no cats. False advertising.

Seriously tho this episode was a pretty run of the mill episode. The best part of the episode was Kitt, because it always is, but seriously that guy with the hedges was amazing- I GOT THE GAG BY THE THIRD TIME IT HAPPENED BUT THE FIRST TIME HE GOT STUCK IN THE TREE OH MY GOSH I WAS DY I N G- Also the fact that Kitt messed him up again trying to apologize is so sad yet funny ahosihdfiohasdf

Custom K.I.T.T.

APRIL GET THAT STUPID DECAL OFF HIM OH MY G O S H-

Somehow her 2-d design ideas looked almost worse than the actual thing and I thought the actual thing looked like a that default sticker decal that you get on a Hotwheels car. I’msorryI’mnottryingtoroastanyartistsIjust I why there’s so much potential with giving Kitt decals :(

Seriously I want to use my drawing software to draw fire on Kitt at some point because it could be done so cool and that ain’t it chief. I’m probably not going to be too great at it either since I don’t do backgrounds nearly enough and fire would be a background element for the most part but I could at least alter the colors ; m ; OR LIGHTNING OH MY GOSH AAA LIGHTNING WOULD BE SO COO L ON HIM- anyway it needed so much more red- and it was so asymmetrical too aHHHH-

I. I’m fine it’s fine I’m fine it’s fi-

I don’t even know why Kitt needed a decal anyway, the other cars didn’t have to have decals to be considered custom, surely his dash alone could have done it-

ANYWAY

This ep was so WEIRD at times oh my gosh. What was that series of insults the two ladies spat at each other? Like the one just complimented her eyeshadow aggressively and the other one accused her of wearing “training bras” or something like whAT EXCU S E ME What is this episode?! Kitt was so upset about the decal too :[

Soul Survivor

OH MY GOSH IT’S CUTE IT’S SO CUTE YOU GUYS-

I was recalling @knight-rider-fan-2000‘s theory about this episode (plz go check them out btw aaaa), and after watching it I totally agree. Michael was especially kind in this episode, and he seems to be overall a more supportive mentor for Kitt this season, starting with Soul Survivor and being pretty consistent throughout. I love their new dynamic so much- There’s definitely still episodes and moments where he’s closer to Season 1 Michael, but Season 2 Michael is a far superior human being in my opinion.

KITT’S SO ADORABLE LIL TINY CPU OH MY G O S H YOU’RE TELLING ME OUR SON IS ACTUALLY T H A T SMALL AAAAA

Michael really is so sweet in this oh my gosh, that whole arc where Kitt is his partner no matter what and that the car isn’t what made Kitt-- AW!!!! ADORABLE! Kitt being so unsure that he repeatedly asks Michael how it feels to see the Knight 2000 without him in it or fusses about his limited functionality as Michael patiently reassures him again and again that he’s wanted just the way he is, I just- Feelings.

One thing that hit me as funny though is when Michael finds Kitt’s CPU in the garage and the trash can is just like PULSATING and then he like yells at it like “tAlK tO mE kItT” and Kitt’s jus sitting there as a box of colored lights like “...”

I can just imagine a cut scene where Kitt’s like, “Oh and by the way Michael, if I could have said something I would have done so LONG before you started asking me to. Believe it or not, I don’t like being in a trash can.”

“You Dingaling.”

Also Michael and his whole “I’m an honest man you can trust me listen I’ll give you a small TV just like this one” and then he proceeded to not do that. Hmm.

Anyway, yeah, it doesn’t get any cuter than this. The only thing that would have been better is if Adrianne didn’t exist. Good thing she’s gone now~!

Ring of Fire

THIS IS SO TRIPPY THIS EPISODE IS SO TRIPPY

I would say that I hate Michael trying to get Kitt to subject himself to testing if he can withstand insane levels of heat. I would say that if April did not then walk in and karma the crap out of him. Gosh I loved it. How he immediately was like whAT NOOO YOU WOULDN’T MAKE SOMEONE DO THAT and Kitt’s just like :/

dang hypocrite, Michael my feelings towards you are so complicated sometimes

anyway

So. Many. Dogs. I usually love seeing Kitt interact with dogs but this started to get unsettling, I can’t blame him for not loving 6 different dogs all swarming him at once whAT- Have they nothing better to do than to jump on my son. What the heck language were those banjo players singing in? Was it a language or was it just gibberish keyboard spam that accidentally made it to the final script AOSHDIAOHSD

This whole swamp setting is really unique to this episode, and part of me really does commend the chance they took by switching up settings. It’s almost always a small town on desert roads. The way this all happened though was??? What?

I think the scriptwriters forgot that Return to Cadiz exists because Kitt got so much water damage AHSIDHAOISDH- I know April said the system was damaged but surely it would have minimized this a little bit. Also did literally anything change by the end of this episode? We didn’t see the guy get arrested, did we? And the girl decided to stay living out in the swamp forest thing. The only thing is that she, like, conquered her fear or something? Even though she still isn’t acting in that direction?

This episode didn’t actually d o anything did it LOL

alsowhatevenwasthatexplosion

It’s not a bad episode though, just really bizarre.

Knightmares

YOU KNOW WHAT I SAID ABOUT IT NOT GETTING ANY CUTER?

I WAS WRONG.

THIS EPISODE this episode THIS EPISODE. TOP TWO MATERIAL? MORE LIKELY THAN YOU THINK. TDR will always be my fav until the end of time I’m pretty sure because I don’t think another episode will get me to ugly sob like that (aLTHOUGH I AM MEGA HYPE HERE BECAUSE I WATCHED KvK AND IT WAS GOOD ALSO BUT WE’LL GET TO TH A T LATER) but in terms of sheer adorable buddies happiness this is the winner by all accounts. I really like how they portray Michael Long, and I genuinely think the arc here has an impact on the rest of the season in terms of how Michael treats Kitt.

I love how Michael had told Kitt a long time ago how they were partners, like how he used to have a partner when he was a police officer, and how now when Long is so confused about everything everyone is trying to tell him, Kitt chooses this specific word to help introduce himself, and everything feels a bit more grounded for Long. I love how Long immediately revolts against the way Devon and April try to tell him he’s wrong about who he is currently, which is, despite good intentions, the opposite of what he needs. I love how Kitt then swoops in behind him and decides to treat Michael Long like a WHOLE NEW PERSON, one who Kitt tries to get to know. I love how Long recognizes just how hard Kitt is trying and genuinely opens up to him. I love how he never reverts to being mean or rude to Kitt after he gets in the car the second time, NOT EVEN ONE sarcastic comment. How he never calls him a computer again after Kitt asks him not to, how he compliments his new partner left and right, how despite having no clue who Knight is he really wants to be that person for Kitt, because Kitt seems sincere and pretty great. I adore that bit where Kitt gently, lovingly lists traits good and bad about Knight and how Long can finally connect to this other version of himself.

“One more thing about Michael Knight.”

“What’s that?”

“I was extremely fond of him”

I love how Long starts saying “Good work, Kitt” after they complete parts of their mission and how Knight does not stop this for the rest of the season, even after he regains his memory. I love so much about this and could frankly talk about it even more than this but this is a brief summary so. So yeah, we’re moving on ;W;

Silent Knight

It’s funny so. I didn’t realize that Knight Rider had done any Christmas specials. I knew about the Halloween specials, but I didn’t realize the Christmas special existed. And so I was laughing at how funnee I was while I was like “SILENT KNIGHT HOLY KNIGHT ALL IS COME-” and then that’s exactly what the pun was meant to be. they done bamboozled me.

ANYWAY THIS MIGHT BE THE STRANGEST CHRISTMAS SPECIAL TO EVER EXIST EVER.

They kept mentioning the Christmas banquet thing to make it mildly related to the season but then it wasn’t, it really wasn’t, it all revolved around clowns. There was. There was a Santa I guess. Albeit a bank robber Santa--

And the kid is juuust obnoxious at first, I love how Kitt absolutely hates him immediately for some reason even though Kitt usually doesn’t hate people unless they do something really bad, but it feels so deserved because the kid is a jeeerk. Maybe it’s because the kid accused him of endangering human life and that Hurt?

Kid: Just let me drive and I’ll throw away this dumb clock thing

Michael: No

Kitt: YES

Michael: W H A T ?!

Kitt: YES

Michael: ugh whatever

I was kind of expecting Kitt to pull some sort of shenanigans while the kid was driving as payback for whatever he absolutely despised him for, but Kitt was actually just really sweet and gave him a bit of freedom until he started endangering himself and then helped him get back into control. Very wholesome.

AND the end was CUTE though, like the boy who had previously been a jerk going over and patting Kitt and being just sincerely nice to him ;w; wholesome

A Knight in Shining Armor

Gosh I always forget what this episode is about because the title is so loosely related LOL

The dynamic with Michael and the girl of the week was actually really cute and chemistry was not entirely nonexistant, so that’s a nice change from some of these that come out of nowhere. Her arc was actually pretty sweet, how she resented technology because she wanted to be loved and cared about, how she thought computers were incapable of doing that until she talked to Kitt...

And the cave was prebby.

But why couldn’t she understand that her DAD was in PRISON.

“Why didn’t he ever come to see me?” “Because he was in Jail.” “oh. But why didn’t he call???”

Diamonds Aren't a Girl's Best Friend

SOMEONE

AHAHA

SOMEONE CALLED MICHAEL

AHAHA

BERNIE CALLED HIM A DINGALING. Speaking of Bernie, all I could think this whole episode was

White-Line Warriors

LONG-LEGGED PUNK-

Seriously idk what this season’s love affair with the baddies picking on Michael but I love it.

Honestly the twist of this episode was really interesting, I still don’t fully get how the baddies’ plan comes together though. So the song plays on the radio and the police go to investigate the drag racers and the crims are IMMEDIATELY ready? okay then.

Radio announcer Kitt tho. That is blessed.

I want Radio Announcer Kitt. Then again, I just want more Kitt in general so.

Race for Life

INHALE

Y’ALL ARE REAAALLY TRYING TO MAKE ME DETHRONE KNIGHTMARES AS THE CUTEST, AREN’T YOU?

Well ha, joke’s on you episode, you’re getting docked points for only giving Kitt and Becky two interactions. And for making the donor obnoxious for most of the episode (although that end scene was pretty adorable). So, okay, second cutest.

THE WAY KITT WAVED I-

HE IS SO CUTE

he is so cute.

Devon was really sweet this episode, not gonna lie. I’m not sure if I’ve said it on this blog before, but I had strong dislike for Devon after Season 1. I can explain that later if anyone wants, I’d be perfectly willing to compare the two seasons, but Season 2 Devon is pretty alright. He doesn’t have much of a presence, but when he does, he’s kind. I’m assuming he let Becky win at checkers, in which case uh, aW?! Devon that’s cute.

KITT TRYING TO TEACH THE TEN YEAR OLD CHESS AHSIODHOAISD I LOVE YOU BUDDY

Also, I feel like this is the episode April really became her own character, separate from Cadiz. She’d kind of just been a slightly perkier Bonnie, but now we get to see her family, her concerns... And April’s a pretty good character.

OH AND THE WHOLE “Kitt is family” ARC IS THE SWEETEST THING ASHDHAOSDohIAD

“Julio, meet Kitt. He’s part of the family”

“Thank you, Michael.”

MY. HEART.

Speed Demons

Okay so. This is another one of those episodes where very little seemed to change by the end of the episode. The guy who was actually in danger quit motorcycling anyway soooo... The episode plot itself isn’t what I feel like talking about.

What was WITH that one announcer guy? Were we meant to like him or not??? First he tries to Kick the Kitt and Kitt’s like :/ whatever

and then he comes back and they start to have like, a deep conversation, and he lovingly pats the hood before walking away. And we’re like AWWW OKAY THIS GUY IS NOT TO BAD

AND THEN he asks Kitt to talk for someone and Kitt’s like “...” and the guy riots. Why did Kitt not talk for him and why did the guy go so absolutely bonkers when he didn’t? Were the cameras rolling and I just didn’t realize? And then we kind of hate the guy again because he once again absolutely went ballistic at Kitt. “That’s Showbiz.”

But then the dynamic with that coworker keeps coming up, and yeah, I guess she does seem a bit annoying. But she also seems like a potential lady of the week and a potential protagonist. So when she gets splashed with mud or whatever that was and the guys all like :D

What are we meant to be feeling?

Are we meant to feel bad for her or happy for him?

Because I just felt confused.

Goliath Returns 1 & 2

GOSH DARNIT ADRIANNE IS BACK

ALSO I-I-I I TAKE BACK EVERYTHING I SAID ABOUT YOU BEING A DOOFY AND STUPID VILLAIN JUST P L E A S E STOP ; M ;

SERIOUSLY WHEN DID GARTHE TURN FULL PSYCHOPATH-

THE FEELING I GOT REMINDED ME OF WATCHING THE SHERLOCK FINALE. S H E R L O C K F I N A L E.

Sigh, I should have known he’d gone off the deep end when he walked into a hot tub with jeans on.

I will forever be mad at some versions coughincludingtheoneIwaswatchingoncough for cutting out the fact that Kitt’s microchip was almost ENTIRELY WIPED/OVERWRITTEN AND PUT INTO GOLIATH. Because uh, the way the show cut it up for TV, it seems like Kitt’s really in no danger other than being annoyed. But no, literally everyone almost dies. Fun times!

Seriously why did this convoluted garbage get a two-parter but Kitt vs. Karr didn’t?

This episode makes me sad. Not just because Garthe tried, and almost succeeded, to take away everything we love in this show. Not just because this episode strayed far enough from the typical formula for this to seem like some dystopian nightmare version of Knight Rider. Not just because freaking Adrianne is back.

I mean because I loved Garthe’s character, and this totally changed it. I like that they went into Garthe’s trauma a bit more with this one, but unlike some villains in the Knight Rider canon (okay let’s not play games, UNLIKE KARR-), what he does is so dastardly, SO insaNE, that there is no way to argue that he might be justified. No. No. Garthe, Adrianne, and Goliath are gone now, and that’s how it had to be.

OH ALSO GO O F F APRIL YES QUEEN I LOVE YOU- I honestly felt so bad for her when she turned around and broke down right after standing up to him, like dang, that hurts. And Devon was sweet in this episode too ;w;

Okay but were they planning on making another episode of this? Because that end scene was such an obvious teaser it’s not even funny.

“I hope we don’t run into those very much drowned people out in the streets again, Michael. And I especially hope that they do not construct another semitrailer with the exact same scale and name as the previous one that was driven into the ocean.”

“Yes, I agree Kitt, this is also an anxiety that I possess despite the fact that they are very much definitely Deceased. I sure hope that plot convenience does not interfere in the future.”

THANK GOODNESS THAT ADRIANNE IS GONE

wait what? her actress is in another episode as another character who’s just as awful? wHYYYYYY

A Good Knight's Work

THAT BEAR NEEDS TO DIE. I am so glad Michael ejected the dumb thing at the end, Kitt deserved it. Especially after Michael essentially told him to temporarily kill himself. Michael's a cyberbully now ig. The arc with Kitt and the car salesman was cute. Apparently deactivation is considered programming now? Michael my mans you could have given Kitt any warning at all (I kind of take this back after one of the Season 3 episodes I’ve watched uHHHH this was a lot of warning compared to how Michael rolls in S3 what the heck is wrong with him). Cute episode overall tho I guess. ALSO I JUST NOW REALIZED "A GOOD KNIGHT'S WORK" IS A PUN BECAUSE KITT IS WILTON KNIGHT'S WORK AND I'M MAD AT MYSELF FOR NOT NOTICING IT SOONER-

Mouth of the Snake and that other garbage one that's title makes no sense

David might as well be a plank of wood. A plank of wood that yeets himself ten feet into the air whenever possible, but I digress. Does this count as superpowers? I just love how he offended Kitt 0.1 seconds after meeting him and then Michael proceeded to tell Kitt off for reacting. Love that soooo much. It's also hilarious to me how most of this episode has a similar structure to most Knight Rider episodes and then they randomly start reacreating the Most Dangerous Game--

Let it Be Me

Why isn't this the season finale?! I mean, I'm glad it's not, but why? This is way worse than White Bird like why- I feel like the Stevie episodes are kind of a controversy in this fandom? I loved the first one. This one's just, blegh it's okay. She and Michael still have pretty great chemistry WHEN THEY ARE SPEAKING IN REGULAR SPEECH. I do not like Stevie singing the same song with Michael 100 times. The duet at the end is kind of cute though, sue me I like corny things.

Stevie: I’m so sorry I shouldn’t have been with this one guy but ;m;

Michael: has been with approximately 100 women by now

Also Michael: How could you ;m;

Big Iron

This episode is kinda wild. Why does the guy manage to have a full out breakup with Lucy in less than one minute? Why is Michael a marriage counselor now? Why couldn't Kitt take the oxygen out of the cabin when Michael was definitely going to die if he didn't? Since when does Turbo Boost use a ton of oxygen anyway? Why does this man just immediately make up with his wife after finding out that she helped him? And most of all, WHY DIDN'T THAT BARTENDER LADY ACT THE LEAST BIT CONCERNED WHEN THEY ABSOLUTELY TORE UP THE PLACE??? Lmbo she's just like "Stop it guys :/"

It’s so bizarre that this is the season finale ahsdoifhasodf but go off I guess NBC

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carrionxcamille · 4 years ago

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Ribs of Friendship | Cam, Adam, Cece, & Winn

Timing: Happy hour, June 1st Location: Dell’s Tavern Parties: Camille, Adam- @https://walker-journal.tumblr.com/, Cece- https://thebickedwitchoftherest.tumblr.com/, Winn- https://packsbeforesnacks.tumblr.com/ Summary: An unlikely group get absolutely blasted! At the Sports Bar and get to know eachother over crude jokes and ribs. Just another Totally Normal day in White Crest.

Camille pretty much had a job, finally. Which meant she’d be able to start saving up for a deposit on a flat and could get out of the shitty motel with the vampire neighbors. A reliable supply of hot water, a proper kitchen, her own bedsheets. It was going to be amazing. First, though, she was going to do something spiteful and petty. Jace was going to rot in a prison cell for the rest of his life. There was a Sox game showing this afternoon at a place called Dell’s Tavern — they were baseball, that was all she knew — Camille was going to drink beer, eat ribs, and watch the game. Even though Jace didn’t even know she was alive and would have no idea she was spending her afternoon doing three of his favorite things, it was going to be very satisfying.

She’d been so excited she had even straightened her hair and put on a little makeup for the occasion. Sitting at a stool on the bar with a cool bottle of their cheapest beer waiting for her ribs, Camille was as happy as she’d been in weeks.

“Hey there.”

Adam sidled into a chair next to Camille. A Sox baseball cap was perched precariously on a mop of the unruly brown hair. Wearing a sleeveless t-shirt with a suggestively shaped pair of baseballs under the phrase, “I’d Hit That,” and a much loved pair of worn jeans, the young man fit in well with the crowd. A lazily jocular edge to his smile hinted that Adam might’ve been pre-gaming well before the first pitch had actually been thrown. “Enjoying the game?” Adam asked, despite his brown eyes following the soft lines of Camille’s oval face down past her lithe shoulderline, far more intently then anything having to do with baseball.

Sports bars had to be one of Cece’s favorite places. Not because she enjoyed sports, but because she enjoyed the environment inside of them. The camaraderie, the excessive drinking, the excited energy of the place. Hell, Cece even enjoyed a good bar fight every now and again. She had convinced Winn to go out with her for the night, ensuring him that it was totally his responsibility to pay for the drinks.

They met up outside of Dell’s. “Looking good, Runaway. I think ditching town gave you some street cred. You’re really nailing that Ponyboy look.” She patted his shoulder endearingly and opened the door into the bar. “How many drinks do you need to tell me about that whole shitshow?”

The only use Winn had for baseball was for metaphors, and even then, they were all played out. But everyone up north crowded around for Sox games, and Winn felt an obligation to go out and mingle (though, really, Cece didn’t have to convince him to drink). Ponyboy? “Took you more for a cowboy gal, Cec. But we’ll find you a nice ponyboy. Ain’t gonna be me, but don’t you worry.” It occurred to Winn, belatedly, she might not be referring to that kind of ponyboy, but he’d take the L. She might get a laugh out of it.

As they walked into Dell’s — where Winn was half-sure he was gaining regular status despite his relative sobriety compared to the rest of the barflys — Winn caught sight of Adam in his element: flirting with a woman who was older than him. (Though, even queer as a three dollar bill as Winn was, he could admit Adam had taste.) “I can tell you ‘bout part of the shitshow,” he said to Cece, “but I think it’ll be much more fun to push ourselves into that shitshow.” Was he about to badly wingman a straight Hunter for a laugh? Absolutely. If Adam couldn’t stick a landing, he didn’t get to stick it in. “C’mon,” he said, hand pushing on Cece’s back as he guided them to the disaster-waiting-to-happen.

It was a long time since Camille had gotten much male attention. Being married to a guy like Jace didn’t exactly do wonders for your self esteem — she knew she wasn’t ugly, but feeling attractive and wanted was markedly different from just acknowledging that you had a pretty face. This kid who sidled up to her at the bar — and wasted absolutely no time letting his eyes wander from her face to her breasts — was what, mid twenties? Sharp jaw, muscular arms. The crude t-shirt was enough of a shock to her system to get her mouth working — almost. “Uh—” Eloquent. “Me? Yeah. I mean, I don’t— y’know, I don’t really follow baseball but it’s— Yeah. It’s good.”

Christ, thankgod his face was nothing like Jace’s, or she might have some heartbreaking flashback to their younger years. His smile had always taken up practically his whole face back then. Camille sipped her beer, trying to process what was happening — what, was he just overly friendly? There were plenty of hot young girls around to chat up. In fact another one just walked in. What was happening? “What about you?”

Broad shoulders shrugged at the question as Adam’s face beamed in a faintly flushed sunbeam smile. “Happy, Horny, Healthy, the usual,” he assured Camile, before putting one arm on the bar and leaning forward toward her a little. “Hey… so babe,” the young man’s smile and tone softened into a manner of conspiratorial intimacy. Adam’s bottom lip brushed against his upper teeth speculatively as his dark jasper eyes submerged below Camile’s neckline before eventually raising to meet her gaze again. “Maybe you’d be up for…”

“Yo Winn! Oui disaster nipples! Over here!

The moment was broken instantly as Adam caught sight of someone he knew from the crowd, the footballer’s free arm waving insistently to catch the newcomers attention across the crowd.

“First off, I don’t think you and I are on the same page about Ponyboy at all.” Cece squinted, not sure she even wanted to know at this point. Not until she had more alcohol in her. “Second, I’m equal opportunity. People are lining the streets to get to me. I’m just disinterested.” With a shrug, she eyed the pair across the bar that she assumed Winn was pointing too. “You’re totally changing the subject. But why is Prom King flirting with that grown-ass woman? I’m guessing you know one of them?” As if on cue, the boy started waving his arms in their direction. Bingo. Of course Winn knew the hot jock.

Cece pushed through the crowd to get to the two, eyeing the both of them suspiciously as she got up to them. She had no idea who either of them were, but was trying to assess the situation here. Did the woman need an out or was she welcoming of the company sidled up next to her? Cece offered a knowing smile to the woman before turning towards the guy. “Excuse me, sir. Don’t you have a science lab or high school playoffs coming up? Can I see some ID?”

“Yeah, I know him. But ixnay on the eavinglay ‘round him, alright? Promise I’ll tell you later,” Winn said. Given Adam’s attempted distance, Winn was almost surprised to see the other man wave. Delighted, but surprised. He sidled in next the other man, wrapping a loose arm around Adam’s shoulder and giving him a shake. Winn spoke loudly, turning the charm and cheese up to their maximum. “Aw, c’mon, Cece. Can’t you see he knows what he’s doin’? He’s shootin’ his shot! And who knows, maybe this lovely lady across from me digs the,” he snorted, remembering Adam’s own term for him that first night, “fuckable boybander vibe.”

“Winn Woods,” he said, reaching around and in front of Adam to the woman to offer his hand for a shake. “I’m Adam’s gay best,” werewolf, “friend. I can tell you all sorts of,” fake, “secrets about the guy, before you make your decision. And if you pour your drink in his lap, I’ll be there like a real bro to towel him off.” He smirked, winking from behind Adam’s sight at Cece and the other woman. “And Cece, babe, I know you don’t know sports, but playoffs would’ve been, like, a month ago or more.”

Oh god, that smile. That was Jace all over. The sight of it had made Camille melt, once upon a time. Admittedly it was not ineffective now, she felt her own lips curling up at the corners in a reciprocal smile. She blinked, surprised by the statement — he was… horny? Did people just admit to that these days? What was she meant to say? Luckily, there wasn’t much time for her to worry about what kind of response to offer because he barrelled forward, and she didn’t lean back when he leaned forward.

Would it be so terrible? To flirt a little with some handsome fool at a bar? Now that would really piss Jace off. She wanted to know what she might be up for. Again, though, her chances were dashed when he noticed a couple of friends. Camille shot the woman a wide eyed but bemused glance, trying and failing to stifle a laugh at her quip. He was young, of course, though to Camille the girl did not look much older, and neither did the other man. “Fuckable boybander vibe,” she repeated as she shook Winn’s hand, amused by how accurate of a descriptor it was.

Very quickly she had all their names — how useful — and almost entirely forgot to introduce herself, lost in trying to keep up with everything Winn was saying. “Camilla W— uh—” Actually, yeah, she didn’t want to stick with Watkins. “Dugar.” Better. She could say Watkins had been her married name, if pressed. “Nice to meet you. All. Not the worst vibe, for the record.” She shot Adam a quick grin, really having no idea what else to do — very out of practice with the flirting. “I can — sorry, if you guys came to hang out I can go sit somewhere else, I don’t want to be in your way.”

“Sure.” Adam made reaching around behind to his back pocket into an excuse to brush an arm close to Camille. He retrieved his wallet and held it out for Cece’s pursal, the contents indicating that he’d turned twenty two on this past January 14th. “I’m legal,” he said absently while leaning forward with his I.D into a none-too-subtle pretense to give the blonde bombshell a once over...and then a second over...and around the third over seeming to remember that evolved homo-sapiens engaged in conversation sometimes. “But if you still want to drag me outta here, rough me up a bit…” He looked up into Cece’s green eyes with a submissive puppyish expression. “Definitely wouldn’t complain.”

The hunter let out a long whistle at Winn’s statements, the bird-song lilt hinting at a life spent outdoors. “Towelin’ me off...” Adam replied in a thickly affected Tennessee drawl, “when y’ talk all hot and purty like that Mr. Lee,” he continued with a soft playful punch at the man-hip now blocking his way to the ladies. “... why, it nearly flips me ass-up.”

However Camile’s protestation snapped Adam out of the banter. “Woah, woah Camilla.” He leaned back with both elbows behind him on the bar, craning his neck past Winn. “You’re the star of this party. You been in White Crest long?”

Ah, the elusive bromance. A tale as old as time and a relationship with weirdly sexual undertones. Cece loved a good bromance. Winn cozied up in the chair next to Adam while Cece still stood between Camille and Adam’s seats. She had to admit, Adam at least had the charming thing going for him. Cece couldn’t decide between rolling her eyes at the dude or flirting with him. “You’re cute.” Cece reached out to pat him on the shoulder. “Make sure to treat me right in your dreams.”

Apparently, Camille got the wrong idea that the three of them had come to hang out. “I agree with Troy Bolton here. We’re all in this together now. It wouldn’t be any fun without you.” She assured Camille that Adam was right and she should stay with the group.

Confident that he was alright, Cece found the stool next to Camille and flagged down the bartender. She ordered beer for herself, pointing at the others. “Put in your orders. First round’s on pretty boy over there. Well, the farthest pretty boy,” she said, pointing past Adam at Winn.

“Mmm, awright, sweetheart,” Winn grumbled, jokingly, into Adam’s ear, letting out an exaggerated groan when the other man ‘punched’ him. He had to admit he was mildly impressed at Adam’s quick turn from joking to… well, about as genuine as Winn was sure the boy could be in public. As Adam tipped his head back, Winn plucked the hat off of his head, throwing it, backwards, onto his own sweep of hair, ruffling Adam’s affectionately. Gotta give the boy a little more tousle if he was hopin’ to impress two women in front of him.

“They’re right,” he said, evenly. “We didn’t come here for this mess,” meaning Adam, “we came here for this mess.” He threw a thumb back at the taps. “And as my darling Cece has pointed out, I’m buyin’. Owe her, taken some of Adam’s for free… and haven’t seen you ‘round these parts, so I figure I’m payin’ it forward.”

When Cece got the bartender, Winn rolled his eyes. “Beer, Cec? And here I thought you were a classy woman.” Then again, Winn told the bartender to get him ‘whatever,’ so he wasn’t picky or nothin’. Turning his attention to Camille, he smiled, “Picked a wild time to come into town, if you’re new here. I’d promise that the ocean wasn’t always black, but… that would imply that somethin’ wasn’t usually going down. And that,” he said, laughing, “would be the biggest lie I ever told.”

Camille was really having to focus to keep up. Three people was not really a crowd but it felt like it to her, especially with them all chattering away and asking questions. The way they all bounced off each-other made her miss her old friends. By the time she’d died Camille hadn’t really been close with anyone- trying to keep your crumbling marriage a secret could have that effect- but there were a few people from work she’d had this kind of easy back and forth with. She was unsurprised when Adam blatantly checked out the other girl of the group- that was young guys for you, attention span of a goldfish- and she was sure whatever appeal she might’ve held moments ago was now forgotten.

Still if they wanted here to stay… Well, there was no harm right? They were young and loud and here to drink and probably weren’t going to ask anything too invasive. She’d come here to have fun, a group would probably help with that. And more beer definitely would. Camille shuddered at the mention of the black ocean, “um, I’ll just have another one of these.” She told the bartender, lifting up her near empty bottle and draining the last of it. “Got here just over a month ago actually, in the midst of all that mad stuff with the, uh, mimes.”

God this place was fucking nuts. “Grew up in Bangor though, so I was always hearing crazy stories.” Now she was one of them, she supposed. “Didn’t expect eyeballs out of my damn taps though, I gotta say that one really threw me.”

“Yeah, fish eyes are used as bait a lot,” Adam said in an amiable baritone that could convey steady normalcy even if a very building they sat in was engulfed in flame. “They do it all the time in Cook’s Bay,” he claimed while making an order of his own. “Fucking crazy that a bunch of bait would get yeeted into the harbor same time as the big oil spill, its friggen Deep Water Horizon all over again. Hope all the fishing crews get compensated once a lawsuit gets through y’know?”

Like many Hunters, Adam was charged with the preservation of the supernatural world’s secrecy, a delicate balance between making sure that humans were safe from supernatural threats and ensuring that paranormal communities were safe from the witch hunts and hysteria of ages past. A lifetime of assuring people that everything was perfectly normal even as Spawn rampaged through graveyards, churning rips in space-time disgorged eldritch horrors, and children went ‘missing’ in Trow dens had cultivated a warm soothing mien that invited everyone else around him to buy into the banal lie.

Everything was fine. What a terrible oil spill. Wolves can’t be people. That’s crazy!

“What made you decide to come to White Crest, Camilla?”

Either Adam was crazy off his ass or he was purposefully moving away from the conversation of the eyeballs. With Camille’s back turned to her, Cece shot Winn a suspicious glance as if to convery, Who is this dude? He did a pretty good job trying to normalize the whole eyeballs coming out of water pipes though, so if nothing else he was either good at making up falsehoods or way too invested in explaining the supernatural away.

“How does anyone end up in White Crest?” Cece interjected, accepting her drink from the bartender and taking a gulp of it before continuing, “A bit of bad luck and a dash of poor decision making.” Cece flipped Winn off, “For the record this beer was on special tonight. That’s hella classy.”

“You’d have to be on somethin’ to take that case,” Winn grumbled, and then, because it probably was a smart idea to lie to Camille, “I’m sure the fishers will fight the town for lettin’ off-shore drilling go on like that.” Winn reached around Adam as Camille’s eyes were on the game for a moment and twirled his finger at Cece, an implicit Just go with it. Regardless of the hard-to-explainability of White Crest this week, they couldn’t really lead with “Hi, we’re a witch, a werewolf, and a Hunter, how’re you today?”

“Don’t have to go on the cheap just ‘cause I’m paying, y’all, by all means break the bank.” There was a part of Winn that hated flashing money around, but that part was easily combated by the part of him that hated drinking cheap shit. And the beer on special was cheap shit. He tilted his head at Cece for a moment, considering, and ordered her another drink, something nicer (and, frankly, more alcoholic).

Fish eyes. Right. Camille sighed, aiming an annoyed glance at the sigil on the back of her hand. There was a time when she’d have rationalized it away like that, too. But then she’d come back from the dead and it was hard to ignore that the world was full of strange and terrifying things like re-animated corpses and whatever problem had eyeballs coming out of taps. Maybe their cluelessness was a good thing, she needed some normal in her life. “Right, fish eyes. No wonder it stinks so bad, crazy.”

She nearly choked on the first sip of her new drink when Cece made her comment, grabbing for a napkin to cover her mouth while she cleared her throat and recovered. “I hope not too much poor decision making. I—suddenly needed a new place, but I didn’t want it to be in Bangor because that felt like a step back.” Camille twisted the napkin up in her hands, but despite the tension to her body there was a smile on her face, “I just left my husband.” It was the first time she’d said that out loud, and even if the way they’d take the statement—a divorce—wasn’t totally right, it was close enough.

A plate of ribs was set down in-front of her and she laughed a little, remembering why she’d come here in the first place. “Ribs, beer, and sports were three of his favorite things. I saw that this place was showing the game and figured I’d come here to spite him.”

“So you're free...niiiice,” was apparently Adam’s sole take away from Camille’s confession. His dark eyes followed the banter between Cece and Winn, letting the resident werewolf dude reach around him to make some random gesture. Winn made a twirling motion at Cece, which Adam didn’t understand the context of.

Nevertheless, while Winn was doing that, Adam made his own addendum of sticking a finger in his mouth in slow suggestive rhythms for Cece’s edification, before gesturing with his head towards Winn and Camille before making the fingers of one hand frantically hump the other fist. This was concluded with the footballer making a heart to Cece, followed by two thumbs up.

Confident that this pantomimed proposal of a foursome definitely helped whatever Winn had been trying to say, Adam turned his attention back to Camille as her food arrived.

“I dunno, poor decisions can be... fun sometimes,” assured Adam with an innocent choirboy smile as he made progress on the drink that’d arrived for him.

Clearly, Winn wanted Cece to roll with the mundane excuse. She wasn’t going to fight it. She had moved here for a regular life after all. That had all gone to hell in a prada purse about a month into it, but the idea had really been pure. She didn’t plan on ruining that for anyone else. Especially someone as seemingly innocent as Camille. The poor girl had no idea what she had gotten wrapped up in. Winn, Cece, and assumingly Adam weren’t crazy in the supernatural sense, but in a bar? Havoc could ensue. And Camille seemed to not only be caught in the middle of it, but had the spotlight shown down on her.

Cece stared back at Adam as he… what the hell was he doing? Fingering his mouth? Cece held a confused look on her face before returning the gesture, using her middle finger in its place. He finished off with suggesting a foursome between the group. Admittedly, the company around was pretty attractive. Cece wasn’t denying Adam’s looks, the dude was hella hot. She was even starting to warm up to the guy. Definitely didn’t mean she planned on sleeping with him. “I think I like you Adam, just haven’t decided why yet.”

“Leaving your husband is just about the smartest reason I’ve ever heard someone move to White Crest for and I will drink to that.” The bartender dropped off the second drink that Winn had ordered for her and she winked over at Winn in appreciation, “Thanks babe! In fact, I'll double drink to that.” She raised both glasses and took turns taking a large drink from each. “Well, we need the ribs, then. If we’re going to do this right and really stick it to him.”

Winn listened with a counselor’s patience to Camille’s reasons for moving to White Crest. Something, maybe the way Camille was holding herself, made Winn cock his head. Her heart wasn’t beating faster — at least, not more than could be explained by proximity to Adam’s… everything. And speaking of Adam…

What was he doing? Winn wouldn’t deny mild interest in the way Adam’s mouth wrapped around a finger, and Winn wasn’t… opposed to sleeping outside of his usual range? So long as someone was fucking him with something, he could get off to a blank piece of paper if he tried hard enough. He smirked, rolling his eyes in Cece’s direction as she flipped him off. Good for her. Adam could use the blow to his ego, even if Winn was still half-sure part of his bravado was fake as hell.

But back to the more important company, “I agree with Cece. You’ve got a head start on us, Cam — is it alright if I call you Cam? Before you make any poor decisions, you’ve got to let us help you make a poor decision!” Wait, no. Adam would get the wrong idea. “Buyin’ you a lot of ribs, I mean.”

There was, admittedly, something almost attractive about the crude gestures Adam was making. In a college frat boy sense. He was hot enough to get away with doing stupid stuff. Camille exchanged glances with Winn and Cece. “I know I’ve been out of the loop for a while, but am I supposed to understand what he’s trying to say with all the-” She imitated one ofthe gestures poorly, and that was enough to snap the pieces together in her head. “Oh! Oh- yeah. No, yeah. I get it now. Wow- that’s- hm.” She shook her head, dispelling the notion entirely. She hadn’t had sex in years, and it’d certainly never been that freaky. “I think I need to warm up a bit before making a decision that poor.”

She slid the plate of ribs a little ways along the bar so the others could grab one if they wanted, “uh- yeah. Cam is fine.” It was closer to her own name, in fairness. She laughed, raising a rib in a mock cheers, “well then, to my ex husband being miserable forever, and making poor decisions.” She gulped down a little beer then took a bite from the rib, grinning.

Adam raised his glass high and let out a loud woop that drew a few glances before the gaming-watching bustle returned to its collective inertia. “To Cam! May her ex get ulcers that make him piss blood in loneliness and may she forget his prick-ass forever!” With that merry invocation of divine justice, Adam added yet more alcohol to his system.

“So,” Adam pointed to Cece and Winn with his free-hand, purposefully choosing to spare Cam the spotlight for a little bit. “What’ve you crazy hot kids been up to?”

Cece liked this group, and it totally wasn’t just because of the beer and ribs. Well, it totally wasn’t any more than like half because of the beer and ribs. Camille led the charge, stealing Cece’s heart with an impromptu cheers using her ribs. Damn, Cece loved a good emotional cheers. Adam chimed in with his own addition to the roasting of Camille’s douche of an ex. “Dark, dude. I can drink to that.” Cece grinned, raising one of her glasses and finishing off the beer. She slid the empty glass across the bar and found the drink Winn had ordered for her as a chaser. “Get too into defamation and we may end up hexing the dude.” And if Camille gave Cece anymore reason to, then those hexes may just end up ringing true.

“Winn here was just taking me out for a night on the town. He owes me.” The two hadn’t really discussed how Winn owed her exactly. The conversation about her tracking his whereabouts hadn’t naturally come up in conversation. “I make him pay a membership fee for my friendship.”

Winn nearly choked on his drink at Adam’s toast, masking his laughter by raising his glass to the rest of the group’s. “Hear, ah, hear?” he tried, voice coming out hoarse from the liquor burning at his throat. He shot Cece a glance that he hoped communicated ‘Don’t hex anybody without Cam’s permission.’ Though, given she was already on her second drink, he figured it would be forgotten by the time it came to actually hex the prick. (If hexes were, like, a real thing?)

“I definitely owe her,” he agreed, rolling his eyes at Adam’s ‘crazy hot kids’ comment. They were both older than him. Like, definitely more emotionally evolved. No matter Winn’s suspicions about Adam’s whole… deal. “I’m truly lucky for her friendship. I need the good karma that pickin’ her drunk ass off the floor nets me.” He gulped down more of his drink, winking across at Cece. “And don’t y’all have, like, a giant television at the house?” he said, nudging Adam. “Your moose brothers not want to watch the Sox? Too busy puttin’ up their socks on doorknobs?” This time, his wink was directed at Cam.

Though it was again a little more crude than the sort of company Camille was used to, she had to say she did not take any issue with Adam’s toast, going as far as to clink her own beer bottle against his before taking a swig. If only she could forget him, wouldn’t that be nice. Her gaze shot to Cece when she mentioned hexing, wondering if she actually meant it, if Cam wasn’t the only one here who knew about the weird supernatural side to White Crest. She even opened her mouth to ask, and then realized they were probably in mixed company and she didn’t want to come off as crazy, so just took another bite out of the rib in her hand.

Perhaps if she got the girl alone some time she could ask about it. In the bathroom or something, girls went to the bathroom in groups right? Yeah. “Oh god, socks on doorknobs?” Camille laughed, shaking her head. “People still really do that? I miss college.” Jace had done the whole frat thing of course, and she’d been in a sorority too, she could remember how damn near impossible it was to get time alone together. “That’s why you came here all on your lonesome, huh?” She teased, nudging Adam’s arm, “got something to prove to your frat pals.”

“Yes we still do that,” assured the guy who lived in a house where socks and kinds of things were put on various types of knobs. “And I’m with a client actually,” Adam protested at Winn and Camille’s insinuations of being a randy stag goodnaturedly. “I’m here if they needs me,”

Adam nodded to a figure seated directly across the bar from him on a couch. The ‘client’ was dressed in a full jacket with gloves, hood, hat, and sunglasses despite the heat, no skin showing. Gloved fingers, six on each hand, drummed absently on the client’s knees as their gaze drifted across the crowd in the manner of someone overwhelmed but nevertheless content to observe the jovial chaos in silence.

“But at sundown I can be with whoever wants me,” Adam noted with a smirk to Camille before purposefully diverting the conversation away from his client. “So, you’re here now. Found work yet?”

Two drinks in and Cece wasn’t mad about the company she had found herself in tonight. She wanted to argue Winn’s point about her drunk ass, but considering they met when he helped get her drunk ass home one night, she decided against it. Clearly he wasn’t letting her live that one down anytime soon. At least until Cece returned the favor. Problem was, she never turned down a drink. She may not leave the place stumbling off her ass but she was rarely sober enough to be the responsible one in a group.

Adam had clients, huh? Cece could only assume it was a sex thing. At least until Adam pointed the client out and Cece shot them a strange look, “Hmm. That’s a weird kink.” She muttered. She caught that bartender’s attention and tapped at her empty glass, smiling when he nodded his confirmation that he had received the message. “I dig the whole serial killer vibes they put off. Very Jack the Ripper.” Cece took a drink from her new glass and listened as Cam dished more details about her life.

Client? Winn looked at the figure Adam had nodded to, considering the other man’s word choice. Sundown. In the loud thrum of the bar, it was hard to hear whether or not the client had a heartbeat, if Adam was helping out someone in the way he’d helped Lucas. For all the younger man talked about conflicts of interest, he had… far more supernatural friends than particular enemies, Winn felt. But now wasn’t the time to argue with Adam over his calling in life — especially not in public. Adam hadn’t talked to Cam for any reason other than his babe senses, Winn was sure. Otherwise, why would he have attempted to cover up the town’s… weirdness.

Cece was already on her third drink, so Winn felt he had to up the ante. Neither of them were driving home, right? Unlike the night they’d met, Winn could, you know, call a damn Uber. He motioned the bartender as he came back with Cece’s next drink, mumbling “Strong.” with a wink to the, admittedly pretty, man. Was Winn (probably) hanging out with a bunch of straight folks? Yes. Did that mean he couldn’t distract himself from the whole… Noah situation? Absolutely not.

Okay, Camille had a hell of a lot of questions about that client. Not that she had any right to ask them, or really any desire to know the answers — there was probably nothing good to be said about a guy dressed like that. Who kept their gloves on inside? Well, people who wanted to hide their hands. She tugged at the sleeve of her shirt to tug it down over that ugly sigil, and wondered if she should become a gloves person too. She hadn’t been here long, so it wouldn't be hard to establish them as part of her style. Cam forgot about the guy happily enough when Adam diverted attention back to her. “So the spell is broken at midnight? Would that make you Cinderella or the fairy godmother?” she teased, taking a drink. “Day manager at that theme park. Cryptic— no, Cryptid Corner.” Cam shrugged. “Not exactly the dream, but it pays better than being a shop assistant or something. I mean I just got it and I’m still on, like, a trial period, but I’m sure I’ll be fine. What about you two?” She gestured towards Cece and Winn. “Now that we know Adam works as a full time weirdo watcher.”

“They’re from outta town,” was the only detail Adam supplied in explanation of his client’s nature to those gathered. He definitely wasn’t inclined to explain just how much of an understatement that was. But thus far the “guest” to this dimension had abided by the deal to not absorb anyone’s biomass, which was mean that Adam could spend his evening flirting and generally get his boorish man-child act on instead of lowering White Crest’s tourist cred by filling a sightseer full of holes.

“I mean… I can put on slippers and wings if that’s what you’re into,” he assured Camille with an easy smile. “Cryptid Corner… Is that the one with the mothman and all that?” he asked before the questions turned to Cece and Winn.

“I’d actually be quite interested in you in slippers and wings.” Cece shrugged, taking a drink from her ridiculously strong drink. She knew she had Winn to blame for that. But as long as she didn’t have to drive home tonight, she didn’t really care how much she drank. “Yeah, I think so. Supposed to have all those weird attractions. I think I talked to the owner of that place once.” Cece remembered chatting about the amusement park. It seemed like her scene, terrifying and exhilarating. Though she hadn’t had the chance to get out there yet. “Guess I’ll really have to check it out now that I have a friend that works there.”

“I work for the Medical Examiner’s office.” Cece explained, “I’m a toxicologist. Which is just a fancy word to say that I test urine and blood I collect from dead people.” Cece joked. She turned to Winn, suddenly realizing that she didn’t actually know what the hell he did. Aside from modeling in a past life.

“There’s an amusement park in town?” Winn said, wondering aloud. “Jeez, for Smalltown, USA, this place sure does have everythin’.” Weird attractions? Weird for White Crest? Christ, what kind of horror show was Cam working at?

“Oh, me?” Well, this was awkward. What did he do? Oh Christ, did Winn have hobbies? Friends that weren’t werewolves or… well, Hunters? “Um, it’s the off-season, but I coach the high school team. For hockey.” He scrambled through his brain, searching for something, anything. “I modeled?” Wait, shit, not that. “Um, in Europe mostly.” Worse, somehow. Winn could almost feel the smirks building on Adam and Cece’s faces. “I got kicked out of school today, so I’m, uh, a bit… loose, with the job-slash-life-thing, right now.” He downed his entire drink in one gulp, gesturing to the bartender to get him another drink, now. Please.

“Only if you can actually wave a magic wand and change my life.” Camille muttered in response to Adam’s quip, swivelling a little on her stool to order another beer. She should be careful really, because she didn’t know this guy and her tolerance wasn’t what it had been in college. But screw it. If anyone could go through what she had and not crave being a little bit drunk, then they were probably nuts to begin with. “Yeah.” She perked up again with a new bottle in her hand. “Yeah, mothman and all that shit, terrible uniforms. Don’t get too hyped up about visiting, it’s nothing special.”

Dead people? Ah, shit. “So do you, uh— do you know Regan?” She toyed nervously with a lock of hair, hoping to god this wasn’t some strange set up because the doctor had spilled her secrets. She didn’t seem like the gossip type, but still. “I— met her. While I was out for a walk a few days ago.” That was fine, this was a small town, people were friendly enough to introduce themselves. Kicked out of school? Camille’s concerned teacher instinct kicked in, and she leaned across a little to get a better look at Winn. He didn’t seem lazy or like a troublemaker or anything — true her expertise was in much younger kids, but there might still be something she could do. “What happened? Did they give you a fair chance before kicking you out? Temporary expulsions? Reports, guidance counselor?”

Resisting the urge to answer Camile’s quip with the insistence that his ‘wand’ was indeed magic and could change lives, Adam continued drinking but briefly frowned in thought at the mentions of a Medical Examiner led on into Regan being brought up. While it was always possible that this was a completely different ME office with a different Regan, Adam had a suspicion that this Dr. Regan Kavanagh, the world’s most confusing hunter-dating Banshee materialist.

Winn dropped the fact that he was a male model in Europe, causing Adam to decide that he wasn’t nearly intoxicated enough and order another drink. Sex-canyon V-line wolfmen coaching high school hockey like it was one of those sappy sports movies wasn’t something he wanted to process sober.

Cece’s eyes narrowed towards Winn. He hadn’t mentioned anything about the college to her yet. Not enough alcohol yet, clearly. Luckily, Cam seemed to have asked the questions for the group. Not that Cece thought it was her business to get involved in Winn’s personal life. But she was a big fan of a little chaos every now and again. She could storm the campus and make a few heads spin. For funsies.

“Oh, you met my boss then.” Cece smirked, rolling her eyes and shaking her head. “Bucket of fun isn’t she?” From the looks of it, more people knew about the Doc than Cece thought. Apparently, despite Cece’s assumptions, the woman was pretty popular in town. But if Regan referred to any of these people as a friend before breaking down and accepting Cece’s friendship Cece wears going to dive off a bridge. “I love that girl to death, but she takes life a bit too seriously for my tastes.” Cece followed suit with Winn, downing her new drink in one gulp and raising the empty glass towards him in triumph. “Hell yeah! That’s the kind of energy I’m looking for tonight! Guys, I think we’re going to have some fun.”

“I am not drunk enough to talk about Regan Kavanagh nor my educational drama,” Winn said in his smoothest, most honeyed voice. “And we’ve got all the time in the world for me to come clean. So long as you don’t clean out my wallet.” He winked, slapping Adam on the back again. “I’m sure the golden boy and I can show y’all ladies a nice time. Though not that nice, eh Adam?” He elbowed the other man, trying to direct the conversation off of him — and Regan for that matter.R

After all, he hadn’t spoken to Regan since they’d sent that CVS on 3rd to a hell dimension. The less Winn thought about that, the better. Oh yeah, he was going to get blasted tonight. He deserved it. No one was driving home, they were pissing off an Uber driver with four different locations, loud chatter, and absolutely no filter like God and Stonewall intended. He may be the only queer person here, tonight, but it was Pride Month and he knew how to work a party, even in the straightest possible place. First thing? “Bartender!” he called, loud and long and stupid, “I need, uhhhhh, a drink for every percentage point you want me to tip you.” Hell yeah. Time to get stupid.

#chatzy #adam cece winn #adam #cece #winn

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