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soveryanon · 4 years ago

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Reviewing time for MAG194! TwT

- Well, the episode very quickly answered my question about whether Jon&Martin would stay in Jonah’s room a bit or not. I love how the beginning of the episode mirrored Martin and Jon working their way to the top:

(MAG192) [FOOTSTEPS RING AND ECHO AS THEY CONTINUE CLIMBING THE MANY, MANY STAIRS] MARTIN: [LABOURED BREATHING] Okay, okay, hold… hold up, h–hold on, hold on, hold on. [THE ARCHIVIST’S QUICK FOOTSTEPS CONTINUE] Oi, Jon! ARCHIVIST: Uh…? [SOFTLY] Oh, right. MARTIN: Just wait a sec– … Christ, I just need a moment to… catch my breath…! […] What, you’re not tired? ARCHIVIST: Oh no, believe me, I am! It’s just, uh… It’s kind of… difficult not to keep climbing? MARTIN: What, like… you’re being called? ARCHIVIST: More like… pulled. Gently, but very definitely upwards, towards the top. MARTIN: That… could be a bad sign. ARCHIVIST: Probably…!

(MAG194) [FOOTSTEPS DESCENDING THE PANOPTICON STAIRS – THE ARCHIVIST DOING SO MORE RAPIDLY THAN MARTIN] MARTIN: [PANTS] Jon, wai– [BAG JOSTLING] Hey, just wait! [THE ARCHIVIST’S FOOTSTEPS PAUSE AS MARTIN CATCHES UP, AND THE SHUFFLING NOISES FROM BELOW ARE AUDIBLE] MARTIN: W… will you please talk to me? ARCHIVIST: I just, I–I need some air.

Jon rushing, Martin having trouble to keep up (TwT and he had previously mentioned that he was “never leading”, “always following”…), Jon respectively being drawn towards Beholding versus fleeing from it in discomfort.

Small thing, but I love how we could hear when Jon&Martin were going up, and now that they were going down? It was the distinctive sounds of people’s steps going down stairs. I don’t remember hearing the buzzing of the drones in MAG192 (while we could hear them muffled and distant in this scene), so I’m guessing that Martin&Jon were almost reaching ground level when the tape recorder turned on?

- ;; Jon had mentioned that there was “no better”, and that’s also true about safe places…

(MAG194) ARCHIVIST: I just, I–I need some air. MARTIN: In the tunnels? ARCHIVIST: … Yes! N–no! I… I don’t know, just somewhere…! Anywhere without that… thing droning horrors, and Rosie staring at us like we’re going to bite her. I just… I need to think.

They don’t have many options, so the stuffy dark tunnels are still a place where it’s easier to breathe compared to the ones directly watched by Beholding…

I’m curious about Rosie’s behaviour – does she identify Jon as someone above Jonah, now, so having the power to hurt her? Or is like in MAG192, when Martin went off her script and she immediately reacted as if he was threatening her?

- Martin’s way of dealing with Jon’s behaviour when he doesn’t understand it still follows the same pattern of beginning with irritation, then heading for pragmatism, and quickly understanding when Jon is hiding something:

(MAG194) MARTIN: All right. All right, we’ll… we’ll go back to the tunnels and regroup. Figure out what our next move is. See… what other options there are. ARCHIVIST: … Yeah. Yeah. MARTIN: Jon? … [WARNING] Jon? ARCHIVIST: I just need a moment. To… to properly… consider things. MARTIN: “Consider” what, exactly?

He quickly picked up on the fact that Jon was shifty and a few steps ahead in the reasoning… and the fact he snapped so fast felt, to me, like he was indeed suspecting that Jon was genuinely considering to take Elias’s place?

* Between “one self-important, floating, hollowed-out terror zombie” and “his whole being just destroyed”, Jonah really is absolutely done for and dead in a way, uh.

* Jon’s phrasing regarding the “pupil” reminds me of the Coffin in relation to Daisy:

(MAG120) ELIAS: He knows the writing on the coffin has changed, though it is still carved deep into the splintered wood: [STATIC INCREASES] “I – Am – For – You.” [STATIC DECREASES] He knows it is not addressed to him, but he reaches down and pulls the chains off all the same.

… And Daisy had still been able to get out.

* It’s interesting, though, that Jon still hasn’t confirmed what his domain is, if it’s supposed to be the centre of The Eye or… something else, somewhere else.

* ;; Martin was blunt and snarky but also… knows his tropes and clichés. He presented Jon’s plan and the end he envisioned as the conclusion of a story, as if it were a script… (I don’t know if there is anything to make of it, but it’s quite interesting that he spitted this in the same episode Annabelle, the Story Spinner, finally made her move/offer.)

* … the “promise” Martin mentioned was likely the one from MAG191, when Martin asked Jon to not do things out of guilt and to actively try to find a solution that would allow him to survive. Given how they both alluded to Jonah… it’s clear that they’re aware that yes, replacing him wouldn’t count, Jonah’s current state doesn’t count as surviving/living. (Which is so ironic for Jonah, since he did everything because he was afraid of dying and wanted to ensure his immortality. But at what costs, etc.)

- “Jon, No”.

(MAG194) ARCHIVIST: Would you just listen, please? … I think… I think that I–I could… control it, t–to a degree, I–I could, I could channel the energies, remake things, like I’ve been doing on our journey but, but on a grand scale. MARTIN: And how’s that going to help? You’ve always said you can’t make less fear in the world, you’d… you’d just be moving it around…! ARCHIVIST: But that might still help! I–I could… I could rebalance things, destroy the avatars, make it so that the people suffering most were the ones who–who deserve it…! MARTIN: [SCOFF] And what? Replace them with new avatars from the people who don’t want to? ARCHIVIST: I mean, that has to be better than those that chose it right? Sure, I can’t make it “go away”, but I could at least make it fairer…! MARTIN: [MIRTHLESS SCOFF] ARCHIVIST: The Eye doesn’t care, as long as it gets its fear, it’s happy either way…! MARTIN: [INCREDULOUS] Christ, can you hear yourself? “Make it fairer!” It’s not enough that you’re the “all-powerful Archivist”, you also have to appoint yourself the literal judge of everyone as well?

It’s true that Martin initially wanted Jon to use his powers here and there and change things for the better for people suffering in the domains (and also true, as Jon pointed out, that Martin had encouraged the Kill Bill spree)… but the journey has also demonstrated how all the possibilities relying on Beholding’s power didn’t work. Killing avatars didn’t free victims from the domains, and the domains kept going regardless. Changing a victim into an avatar was still horrible and traumatic and condemning them to another kind of hell. And they had resolved to let people suffer as they headed for the Panopticon because Martin was hoping that confronting Elias would mean a solution to change things on a bigger scale and save everyone, but they know now that that is impossible and there isn’t enough left of Elias to confront in the first place. I’m not really disappointed that Jon would try to grasp at something that feels Less Awful now, and I’m not disappointed that Martin was offended and disgusted about it – I’m just sad for both of them. It also came with a few implications:

* As mentioned above, with the way Jon&Martin described Elias – they agree that being the centre of Beholding is as good as being dead.

* Martin had pointed out, in MAG186, that he didn’t want to keep feeding on people’s misery, and if they didn’t find any solution, he would ask Jon to end him:

(MAG186) ALSO MARTIN: So. What are we thinking? MARTIN: [EXHALE] I’m thinking that I didn’t ask for this. It’s not my fault they’re here…! ALSO MARTIN: True. MARTIN: But I can’t keep existing like this at their expense! It’s not… it’s not right. Whatever happens with Elias, wi–, with the rest of the world… I can’t live on the misery of others. ALSO MARTIN: … They’ll suffer either way. MARTIN: I get it, okay? I, I can’t decide what happens to them, but… I just might be able to decide what happens to me, and… and if it comes down to it? ALSO MARTIN: [SIGH] MARTIN: … I’ll get Jon to destroy me like the others. ALSO MARTIN: You don’t really believe he’d do it? MARTIN: I don’t know. Maybe? ALSO MARTIN: … This took a dark turn. MARTIN: Yeah, but… this time it doesn’t feel like despair. [BAG JOSTLING] It feels like resolve. ALSO MARTIN: Well… hopefully it won’t come to that. MARTIN: Hopefully.

We haven’t heard Martin tell Jon anything about it, so Jon might not know… but it means that if they were to settle for Jon’s idea, then it’d be the scenario where Martin would ask Jon to kill him. So, I wasn’t surprised that Martin immediately opposed that idea on victims’ behalf – he knows very well how uncomfortable it is to feed on people’s misery, and it is something he was only temporarily accepting until he found a way to fix the world.

* I like how it works within the Fears As Oppressive Systems reading: changing who is on top wouldn’t change the system itself. The problem is still the system, and the solution would still be to dismantle/change it entirely.

* … And meta-wise, I’m not sure but I feel like this might be opening up the option and leading towards another Change for the end of the show…? Since Martin felt like a solution based on a “compromise” was horrible, it would be surprising, then, that the show would end with no grand-scale change at all, unless they’re prevented from reaching it at the last moment?

- Overall, their arguments reminded me a lot of MAG154: Jon and Martin were trying to convey something underneath what they were saying, that the other wasn’t fully grasping. In MAG154, what Martin should have heard was that Jon was worried about him, cared about him, wanted Martin safe above everything (it wasn’t “only” about cutting their eyes out and getting free from the Institute, it was mostly about the idea of leaving together). This time around… I’m not sure, but I feel like underneath, it was mostly about Jon and Martin’s respective fears of losing the other?

- That “visual” information when Jon and Martin had entered Elias’s room in MAG192…

(MAG192) MARTIN: What’s wrong with him? ARCHIVIST: Nothing. Nothing’s wrong with him. He’s the pupil of The Eye…! MARTIN: Meaning? ARCHIVIST: He won.

(MAG194) ARCHIVIST: Why won’t you believe me when I say that this isn’t something I want to do? MARTIN: Because I saw your face when we walked into that room! [DESPONDENT] That wasn’t fear! It, it wasn’t even anger. It was envy. And it scared me more than anything else I’ve seen…! [SILENCE SAVE FOR THE TOWER NOISES] ARCHIVIST: … Martin… MARTIN: We’re here to stop this, not… not take it over…! [SILENCE BUT FOR THE DISTANT DRONE NOISES] ARCHIVIST: What other choice do we have? MARTIN: I–I don’t know, all right! I d–, but there is one. Because there has to be.

I do like that Martin is keenly aware of Beholding’s power of attraction on Jon because… after all, is Jon’s reasoning that he might make things better as the pupil of The Eye truly his own, or is it slightly influenced by Beholding itself, trying to make it attractive for Jon? We’ve seen that Jon could get influenced by it – Jon had to fight against his impulses in order to be able to listen to Eric’s tape, and burning Gerry’s page had also been hard for him.

- Martin saying “No” was such an echo of the end of season 4…

(MAG158) PETER: Then do it. Kill him, and help me save the world…! [SILENCE] MARTIN: … No. […] PETER: Martin. What are you doing? MARTIN: I’m… saying no. I refuse! Game over. [KNIFE CLATTERING ON THE GROUND] PETER: Martin, this is not the time for petulance; there are bigger things at stake, here. […] But you do serve The Lonely. MARTIN: Oh, I’m getting there, but if this is the final test or something? Then bad luck. The answer’s still “no”.

(MAG194) ARCHIVIST: We can’t just dismiss this. It might be our only option. [SILENCE SAVE FOR THE TOWER NOISES] MARTIN: … No. ARCHIVIST: No? MARTIN: No! I forbid it. [BAG JOSTLING] ARCHIVIST: [INCREDULOUS CHUCKLE] You “forbid it”?

With the situation being of course different: back then, a “no” was still playing the game and making someone the winner of the bet. Now, it’s just pure rejection. (And I love when Martin does that? Just refuses to accept what is offered? There is something very raw, very honest when he does, even though it’s not exactly constructive.)

- Oh Jon, oh Martin ;_;

(MAG194) ARCHIVIST: [INCREDULOUS CHUCKLE] You “forbid it”? MARTIN: Don’t laugh at me. ARCHIVIST: Why not? You’re being ridiculous. MARTIN: I refuse to accept that this– ARCHIVIST: Tough! The world doesn’t care what you accept. It just is! It just is. [SILENCE SAVE FOR THE TOWER NOISES] … I’m going out. Ou–outside, I–I… I’ll see you back in the tunnels.

* I feel like Jon didn’t understand how casually harsh he was: pointing out that Martin was “being ridiculous” was an accidental reminder that… Jon can bend a lot of things to his will. Although he is not all-powerful, he has power in this world, can decide what happens to people (he can smite avatars, he can turn victims into avatars, he can “know” things). It isn’t the case for Martin, who can indeed travel safely through domains but can’t change anything by himself.

* ;; And additionally cruel: Martin might have known that the world “doesn’t care”. He had to take care of his mother since he was a child, with no support, to the point that he had to drop out of school, and it didn’t prevent his mother from hating him… and yet, he has also clung to the belief that people’s lives still have worth for what they are (MAG151: “I think our experience of the universe has value. Even if it disappears forever.”).

* It says a lot about Jon’s state of mind, too, that he would spit about it from his position: Jon has been prone to falling into quiet despair this season, over the idea that he couldn’t do anything on a grand scale (“There is not better”, the fact that even “saving” Jordan just put him in another hell and that he resented Jon for what he was able to do…). What Jon said weren’t words of triumph or boasting: those were sad words of anger and resignation over something he hates but feels that he can’t fight against.

* Martin’s silence… I feel like that silence and Jon calming down (still leaving, but clearly conscious that he had overstepped) “told” us so much about the kind of face Martin was making…

- When it comes to the recording: seems like the tape recorder was either on the ground or on Martin, this time around, since we heard Martin’s last words (while the sound of Jon’s footsteps was gradually disappearing).

(MAG194) [QUICK FOOTSTEPS AS THE ARCHIVIST SPEEDS OFF DOWN THE STAIRS] MARTIN: [SHAKY EXHALE] Stupid… Stupid, arrogant…! [SILENCE SAVE FOR THE TOWER NOISES] Jon? J– [SHUFFLING] … Shit!

* The end of the fragment was a bit reminiscent of the end of MAG185, when Martin entered his domain:

(MAG185) ARCHIVIST: Martin? [STATIC RISES] Martin, listen you need to get ready. [FADING] We’re about to enter– [STATIC REACHING A PEAK] MARTIN: Yeah, “my domain”, yes, right, I get it. Dream logic, and timing, heh, apparently! [STATIC FADES] [FAINT EERIE WIND SOUNDS] … Jon? Jon? [BAG JOSTLING] Oh… Shit.

* You would think that Martin had drained up his “shit” rights (especially since he screamed strings of it in MAG163 when running around the bullets, and in MAG179 to bandage Jon after he had been injured by Daisy), but no, he keeps adding new ones to the collection!

* So why that final “Shit”? Was it because Martin realised that it wasn’t a good idea to get separated? Was it because he spotted something or someone? The tape recorder, cobwebs around, Annabelle dangling from the ceiling?

- … Screaming a bit because Jon rushing out to get some air and leaving someone behind is, uh, reminiscent of something.

(MAG080) LEITNER: I have also heard it called Beholding. ARCHIVIST: And I… LEITNER: You belong to it too. ARCHIVIST: I… Uh… I… I think I need some air. [SOUND OF FUMBLING IN DRAWER] LEITNER: We don’t have time for you to have a breakdown, Archivist. [CHAIR SCRAPES ON THE FLOOR] ARCHIVIST: I’m going to have a cigarette. Don’t… [DOOR OPENS] Don’t. [DOOR CLOSES] […] [EXTENDED SOUNDS OF BRUTAL PIPE MURDER] […] ARCHIVIST: Sorry, I’ve been quit for five years now, but th– [STUNNED SILENCE]

And just like before, someone waltzed in to deprive Jon of the person he was interacting with. Jon didn’t mention smoking this time around but since he quickly calmed down once outside, and decided that Martin was indeed right as soon as he was out… where is your lighter, these days, Jon?

- Once outside, it was chilling how Jon indeed acted a bit all-powerful, right after Martin had accused him of getting a god-complex:

(MAG194) ARCHIVIST: [HEAVY BREATHES] Get out of here. All of you. … [STATIC RISES] I said: leave me alone! [STATIC FADES] … [SCOFF] Of course. [SIGH] What do you want? No, I… I know what you want.

Out of anger, he still spilled out his powers to try to get the camera and drones to comply with what he wanted.

(And aaah, the contrast between the way he talks to Beholding things and the way he usually talks with Martin… It was very noticeable how his voice was dryer and snappier when he was alone with Helen, but I like how we can still hear that he has a special “voice” for Martin, even during arguments.)

- … Jon managed to cool down VERY quickly.

(MAG194) ARCHIVIST: But maybe you’re right…! … No. No, that’s… [INHALE] Martin’s right. It’s not worth it. … Why am I even talking to you? You don’t even have a mind, not really. That’s what you want, isn’t it? Something to be your focus, your will. Keeping you fed, and placated and content! … You got something to say? [HUFF] Then say it. [CAMERA WHIRRING] Of course.

* He only needed a few seconds to admit that his plan wasn’t a good idea and that Martin had been right to oppose the concept of it.

* I love how Jon has been spitting his disgust and rage at the cameras, drones and Beholding itself since they entered London…

* I love how Jon was aware that his plan would basically mean that he would provide Beholding the satisfaction it wanted. Indeed, in any scenario, that just… can’t be good.

* And I love how his last words before the pre-statement were a bit ambiguous: was the “Of course” about the fact that anyway, the cameras/drones wouldn’t answer (because they couldn’t anyway)? Or was it in reaction to the camera whirring and the build-up of the statement – the idea that “of course”, drones and cameras would swarm around Jon since he was on the verge of giving a statement? Or was it because he felt that the surroundings would give their “answer” through the statement he was about to give?

- As for the statement: it reminds me a bit of MAG180, with how Malcolm wasn’t able to get rid of his abuser – I would have pegged MAG180 as a mix of End/Web/Beholding, this one felt more like Flesh/Web/Beholding, however! The body horror made me grin because Jonny has been playing Resident Evil lately, and the eye and face emerging from the shoulder really reminded me of that imagery. (While during the first few seconds, I thought about Albrecht, but it turned out that a whole body was emerging from Malcolm so… nop, not the same thing.)

I wonder what message Jon got from the statement, though:

(MAG194) ARCHIVIST: [DEEP BREATH] Not exactly subtle. But then you never were, were you? Not really. Well. If that’s the most compelling argument you have… [AUDIBLE SMILE] I’m going to go and apologise to my boyfriend…! [CHUCKLE]

Did he interpret it as Beholding telling him it was within him, that Jon could never get rid of it, that it was even useless seeking “love” because Jon had Beholding in his life? Was it about the idea that no matter what, there would always be someone in the “seat” of Beholding’s power? Was it about Jon’s shame, Beholding threatening to reveal his inner thoughts (“I’ll tell them. I’ll tell them all the horrible thoughts you keep deep inside…!”)?

- I love how Jon has shown absolutely no hesitation when it comes to calling Martin his “boyfriend” ;w;

(MAG171) JARED: Oh! And who’s this? Your boyfriend? MARTIN: Hum– ARCHIVIST: Yes. Actually.

(MAG187) HELEN: Sure he can wave away the theoretical idea of people suffering… ARCHIVIST: But if he sees it up close, he might try to get his boyfriend to smite you? HELEN: … Something like that.

Plus the (many) “love” thrown around. Back when they got together at the end of season 4, I thought that Jon would have a bit of trouble putting words on his relationship with Martin, but nop, he’s been very casual and almost smug about it!

- Jon had mentioned that he had trouble in the tunnels, Melanie had reminded him that it was dark, but still, it was very funny to me that Jon began to apologise before understanding that he wasn’t actually talking to Martin:

(MAG194) [DOOR RATTLES AND OPENS] ARCHIVIST: M–Martin? [DOOR SHUTS] Martin I’m… I’m sorry. You… you’re right. [SOMETHING RATTLES] I– … Oh. [CLEARS THROAT] Sorry. Thought you were someone else. CELIA: It’s okay. I, I was actually looking for you.

The way Jon’s voice just changed once he realised.

- And then, it was SUCH whiplash.

(MAG194) ARCHIVIST: Why? What’s… Sorry, uh, do you know where Martin– the, the man I–I was with, do you know where he is? CELIA: That’s what I wanted to check! I saw him a while ago, up near one of the trapdoors. I… I didn’t recognise the woman with him? So… ARCHIVIST: The– CELIA: I wanted to check if you were expecting anyone else before I woke the prophets. ARCHIVIST: [SUSPICIOUS] What, what woman? CELIA: I don’t know…! [FOOTSTEP] ARCHIVIST: What did she look like? CELIA: Uh… Youngish, Black, dressed… normal, I suppose? She had a thing on her head, like a… ARCHIVIST: [SHAKY BREATH] CELIA: I don’t known like a, a woolly hat? But… I–I don’t know, it looked a bit weird. ARCHIVIST: … A–Annabelle, hum… CELIA: I didn’t catch her name– ARCHIVIST: Shh-shh-shh! I– Please, I, I need to concentrate. [STATIC RISES] [VERY QUIETLY] Right, Martin, come on, come on… come on, don’t try and do this to me. Not now. [STATIC FADES] Argh! Oh god. Okay, hum…

* Not the first time we had the conditions to fear about Martin’s safety: there had been the Lonely house scare, the fear that Martin would just disappear when Jon was giving a statement and unaware of his surroundings (which… kind of happened here, although distantly), the fear of Martin and Jon not finding each other back right away after Martin’s domain… so it had to happen at some point, uh.

* Well, she had already been described wearing a hoodie in MAG123, but seems like Annabelle has really stopped looking “like a vintage clothing store exploded on her” x”)

* Jon’s gradually rising panic as he slowly understood what might have happened was heartbreaking ;;

* Confirming another difference between the tunnels and a perimeter under the camera’s protection: Jon can still try to use his powers here. When he had tried to compel Salesa, it had not worked at all – no static, no power.

- Jon’s voice, this season ;w; I love how he has such a wide range lately – almost god-like around the drones, tender about Martin, bashful when he apologised thinking Martin was in the room, slightly awkward when it turned out it was Celia, absolutely panicking when he realised that Martin had left with Annabelle and that he couldn’t know about them, aggressive when he snapped at Celia to wake up Melanie&Georgie, anxious wreck with Melanie. I like how he was quick to tell Melanie that it wasn’t the right moment for her to be sarcastic through her choices of words, and how Melanie indeed relented:

(MAG194) [DOOR OPENS AND FOOTSTEPS ENTER] MELANIE: Any luck? ARCHIVIST: [FRUSTRATED] Nothing. I–is Georgie back yet? MELANIE: Not yet. [INHALE] But then she actually needs to go places to look at them. She can’t just… pop up top and check the “big picture”. ARCHIVIST: Melanie, please. … Not now. MELANIE: … Sorry.

Melanie doesn’t like Jon, she said, but that doesn’t mean she revels in his misery and active discomfort, and I like that they have this complex relationship where they can still help each other out (Jon telling her how to quit at the end of season 4, Melanie reminding Georgie that they should help Jon&Martin, and Melanie guiding Jon through what they can deduce from Annabelle and Martin’s departure).

- That was such a nice parallel (and a contrast!) with when Jon had come to ask for Melanie’s help at the end of season 4:

(MAG157) ARCHIVIST: Melanie, I… MELANIE: Jon…? ARCHIVIST: Yeah, it’s… me. GEORGIE: It’s all right, Melanie. Jon, leave. [ADMIRAL STARTS PURRING] ARCHIVIST: I’m sorry, I just… It’s Martin. MELANIE: Jon… don’t… Please. ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] … No, you’re right, I’m sorry. A–are you all right? MELANIE: Yes! I’m, hum… actually doing okay…! […] It’s, it’s okay. He’s… welcome. As a friend. But that’s it. ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] … Right. MELANIE: But you’re not after a friend, are you, Jon? ARCHIVIST: I need an ally. MELANIE: Then I can’t help you. [SILENCE] ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] I suppose not… GEORGIE: Okay [ADMIRAL MEOWS IN PROTEST], you’re done. [PURRING CEASES] ARCHIVIST: Yeah. [INHALE] Yeah, I am. GEORGIE: Come on, Melanie, let’s get you back to bed. ARCHIVIST: Look after yourself. Both of you. MELANIE: You too. Good… luck, I guess. ARCHIVIST: … Thanks.

Martin just left with a powerful avatar, Jon doesn’t know their intentions, is worried for Martin, doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t have many people around, and goes to Melanie to ask for help. Except this time, Melanie&Georgie have decided that they would help – and indeed, Georgie went to take a look around, and Melanie is (awkwardly) reassuring Jon.

- Nothing new about what the camera does, it’s the same property that had been previously established:

(MAG180) ARCHIVIST: I don’t know what’s next. MARTIN: What…? But, like, you, you can see “literally everything”, so– ARCHIVIST: I–I can, but i–it’s a blind spot! No idea why; I–I didn’t realise until we got closer, and I was looking at our route, but… I can’t see the area after the necropolis. None of it; it’s, it’s like the inside of the Panopticon, or, or wherever Georgie and Melanie are hiding. MARTIN: Or Annabelle. ARCHIVIST: … Or Annabelle. MARTIN: You think the others might be there? ARCHIVIST: [DELIGHTED] I have no idea! It’s a mystery! […] MARTIN: Get ready. ARCHIVIST: To do… what? MARTIN: What do you mean “what”? To smite them, if we need to. Wait, hang on, can you even smite people here? ARCHIVIST: I, I don’t think so.

(MAG181) SALESA: How’re you feeling? MARTIN: [BLOWING AIR] ARCHIVIST: Disorientated. It’s like, hum… li–like I’ve lost my sight o–or, uh… SALESA: Well, you have, haven’t you? [HE CHUCKLES. IT ISN’T THE FRIENDLIEST SOUND] Annabelle tells me you work for “The Eye”. […] Your powers won’t work here, Jonathan Sims, Head-Archivist-of-the-Magnus-Institute-London! The Eye can’t see this place…! […] an old broken camera. One that through some… quirk had the ability to hide you from the Powers…! It was in the possession of another scared old man, one who had long been running from his own supernatural debts. I believe it operates as a sort of, uh, battery, charging itself on all the quiet worries that come from living in hiding, and then when the sanctuary collapses, eh!, all that fear flows out at once. … No doubt if my oasis breaks before I die, The Eye will get quite the feast from me. […] I. Was. Right…! Both about the world, and about the camera: it hid me from The Eye, which, in the new order of reality, also protects where I am from the hellscape all around us. And when I realised that the power moves with the camera, well, hm!, let’s just say I loaded up a truckload of supplies and went on some journeys of my own, before I found… this place.

(MAG194) MELANIE: So, you… you didn’t see them at all with your, you know…? ARCHIVIST: Nothing. They’re hidden. A… Annabelle must have taken the camera. MELANIE: The camera? ARCHIVIST: Uh, from… Salesa’s.

If it is indeed the camera hiding her (since Jon can’t absolutely know about it, and Annabelle has known how to keep herself hidden in the past). Jon had highlighted it, but it’s very interesting that she apparently found a way to stay under the radar since season 4, even when she hadn’t joined Salesa (and the protection of the camera) yet:

(MAG148) ARCHIVIST: Did he say anything about Annabelle? BASIRA: Not really. Sounds like he’s not too worried, though. Says to just ignore it. ARCHIVIST: [SNORTING] Yeah, good luck with that! BASIRA: Any luck finding her? ARCHIVIST: I haven’t really been trying. Doing that sort of thing consciously, it… makes me hungry.

(MAG155) BASIRA: No sign of Annabelle either. ARCHIVIST: You’re still on that? BASIRA: You’re not? ARCHIVIST: … I–I mean, I don’t know how much she can predict or manipulate the future, but I think she’s proven she can at least avoid us finding her.

(MAG164) ARCHIVIST: … I think it was Annabelle Cane. MARTIN: Hm. ARCHIVIST: That’s… weird, I, I know The Web was wrapped around that phone, but, but I can’t… see her. A–at all. At least with Georgie and Melanie, I have a vague sense they’re still alive, i–in London, and, or– Well, what was London. [STATIC DECREASES] But Annabelle…? Nothing. [STATIC FADES] Hm.

(MAG167) MARTIN: Do you know where she was calling from? ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] No. She… No; she is still… hidden, somewhere, I–I could… see her voice coming down the phone line, but the closer it gets to her, the harder it is to see. … Hm, Christ, this all feels so… obtuse; it’s like I have the power to drink the whole ocean, but I… have to do it through a straw!

(MAG172) MARTIN: … And Annabelle? ARCHIVIST: Still can’t see her. If it wasn’t for the phone call, I’d have said she was probably already dead…! MARTIN: Yeah… [SIGH]

(MAG181) ARCHIVIST: Look. I–it’s no accident we finally meet face-to-face in the one place I–I can’t get any answers out of her. ANNABELLE: [SMUG] I’m sure I don’t know what you mean…!

To the point that even now, Jon conjectured that she was protected by the camera, but we can’t be sure if it’s indeed the case (due to the camera itself, and Annabelle’s credentials when it comes to hiding herself).

- ;_; It was kind of expected since Salesa had mentioned the likeliness of him dying, but still, aouch that he indeed died…

(MAG181) SALESA: I don’t know what you want me to say, it’s a big house and I don’t see her much. Can’t even say which corner she’s made her nest in! Whatever she’s doing… all I can do is hope it doesn’t wreck my little oasis. And if it does… then I hope that by keeping her in good graces, she’ll at least do me the courtesy of killing me first? MARTIN: Mm-mm… SALESA: … Anyway. Let us talk of happier things, or perhaps just take a moment to enjoy not being out there…! […] In the end… I find myself quite happy. I’ve supplies, for a good few years, and then I… plan to take my own life. I think perhaps that’s the greatest blessing the camera can bestow: I – can – die – here. Escape this place. Not yet, of course; and maybe the wine will do me in before I have to take matters into my own hands, but still… it remains a comfort.

(MAG194) MELANIE: The camera? ARCHIVIST: Uh, from… Salesa’s. MELANIE: O–oh. So does that mean he’s…? ARCHIVIST: … Dead. MELANIE: Right. ARCHIVIST: Yes, I… [INHALE] I checked. [EXHALE] I guess she liked him enough to do that for him before she stole it. MELANIE: Remind me not to get on her good side. ARCHIVIST: No, i–it’s what he wanted. What he… said he wanted, but… [FOOTSTEPS] i–it–it means there’s… there’s no way I can find them!

* He went far in the Battle Of The Recurring Michaels (Mike Crew, Michael the Distortion, Mike-as-Tim’s-VA), but still, this Mikaele too got killed off in the end.

* I love Melanie, I love how quickly she pointed out that it was messed up.

* I appreciate Jon’s nuance regarding Salesa’s wish, correcting it into “what he said he wanted”: the fact that he had thought about his own ending (either killed by Annabelle, either by the wine, either by his own hands) and found it a “comfort” that he was able to… was still fundamentally sad and horrible? It’s mostly that, with the world as it is since the Change, it was this or an eternity of torture, and he made his choice while weighting the two… but I like Jon’s precautions, here, with that “what he said he wanted”, and the contrast there is between this and “what he wanted”.

- I really wonder how the scene went and if Annabelle will describe it – Jon immediately assumed that it meant that Annabelle had killed him, but it’s also possible that she warned him that she would take the camera and that Salesa did it himself? (Would still be Annabelle pushing him to it in a way… unless she offered Salesa the option to come with her, protected by the camera, and he declined that.)

If we go with the idea that Annabelle liked him, and killed him as a favour before taking the camera… that’s, uh, a bad sign for the whole state of the world? It kind of implies that no, Annabelle’s plans aren’t to turn the world back or to cast the Fears away – if it had been the case, wouldn’t it have been better for Salesa to accept to suffer hell for a little while before Annabelle succeeded? Unless he didn’t believe that it was possible, unless Annabelle didn’t like him enough to protect him, etc., but hum… if we go with Jon’s assumption that Annabelle killed Salesa as a favour, that’s worrisome for what Annabelle is aiming for on a larger scale, if that death is still a “mercy”…?

- I love the ways Melanie awkwardly tried to reassure Jon, while being clearly uncomfortable with Jon spilling his guts, but that she still understood that Jon was worried sick for his partner and that this was still something she could relate to. And the fact that Jon was now also worried for Georgie!! The fact that she doesn’t feel Fear and that she’s mostly insulated from The Eye doesn’t mean that she’s invincible…

(MAG194) ARCHIVIST: [FOOTSTEPS] I–it–it means there’s… there’s no way I can find them! MELANIE: Hey, hey! ARCHIVIST: And I– MELANIE: Hey! Keep it together. Okay? Georgie might have better luck. She’s actually looking in person, and from what you said… ARCHIVIST: Yeah, no, I, I mean– MELANIE: Yeah– ARCHIVIST: –that could work, but… but if she finds them alone…! Uh, I mean, if anything were to happen–! MELANIE: They can handle themselves…! Right? ARCHIVIST: You’re right. Uh, you’re… [INHALE] You’re right. MELANIE: [EXHALE] It’s, it’s fine. I’m worried too.

… I’m Worried about Melanie using “they can handle themselves” as a reason to not be too worried, though, because it sure puts to mind one of Annabelle and Martin’s only exchanges:

(MAG181) MARTIN: We could make her tell us. ARCHIVIST: No, we couldn’t. I don’t have my powers, if it came to a physical fight I really don’t rate our chances…! MARTIN: Hey, I can handle myself! ANNABELLE: But can you handle me? [SILENCE] MARTIN: … I don’t like you. ANNABELLE: I know.

MARTIN…

- It’s less funny for Melanie when she has to hear about Jon’s life when it comes from Jon rather than from Martin, uh.

(MAG190) MELANIE: Yourself? MARTIN: Oh, uh, I’m the antichrist’s plus one. MELANIE: [CHORTLES] Oh, that… that sounds like a rough gig! MARTIN: [SMILING] It has its perks. […] So how are you and Georgie doing? MELANIE: Hm! Honestly? Uh… well. These were not the early relationship hurdles I expected. MARTIN: God, tell me about it…! […] MELANIE: And what about Jon? MARTIN: Oh. You know Jon. He’s a complete mess, but, so am I, and… I think we’re making it work. Communication can be… difficult when you’re on an unholy pilgrimage, hm! MELANIE: Modern dating, eh? MARTIN: [CHUCKLE] Nightmare.

(MAG191) ARCHIVIST: … This is my fault. MELANIE: What? ARCHIVIST: We… We had an argument. MELANIE: Oh… ARCHIVIST: I–I said some things I shouldn’t have, if… if I hadn’t we would have come back here together, and I–I’d have been there to stop her taking him. MELANIE: You don’t know that’s what happened. ARCHIVIST: I mean, he wouldn’t have gone willingly! … Would he? MELANIE: You tell me. You said there was no sign of a struggle. ARCHIVIST: But if it happened in the tunnel, I can’t “know” that! MELANIE: But we’d have heard. Stuff echoes down here. ARCHIVIST: I suppose…! What, so you think he chose to leave with her? MELANIE: Does it matter right now? ARCHIVIST: I mean, if they left together willingly, they could already be miles away…!

(* Extra-dose of awkward for Melanie since she’s kind of reassuring her girlfriend’s ex over his own relationship.)

* Same thing as Jonah using Jon for his ritual: it superficially feels like it could have been avoided in a million of ways… but at the same time, it feels like the end result would have happened anyway, because Annabelle was searching for an opening. If it hadn’t been now, it would have been another time in the tunnels.

* I’m surprised that Melanie and Jon both considered that the absence of a struggle was hinting that Martin had gone willingly… given that it involved a Web agent. As Breekon had pointed out: “The Spider’s always an easy job – no fuss, no complication, everything planned and prepared. It knows too much to truly be a Stranger, but hides its knowing well enough to endure.” (MAG128) It feels like if Annabelle wanted to take Martin out without a fuss, she just could have done that?

- I like how Melanie took over Martin’s role to make Jon think of practical things when Jon is stuck on his own fears and worries. It’s just like in front of the Panopticon when Martin suggested how Beholding might work against Jonah too and had taken actions to enter the building: Melanie tried to evaluate what Jon could “know”, what had happened, what connection they had with Annabelle, what they could conjecture from Martin leaving with her.

- Every time Jon more or less summarises Annabelle as being One with The Web, I’m a bit more mmmm about the concept:

(MAG130) ARCHIVIST: And the question is now simply … how much I trust the Spider to have my… best interests at heart. … Hm. I suspect my assuming it has a heart might be a clue I’m looking at this the wrong way.

(MAG146) ARCHIVIST: I–I want to know; can The Web control another avatar, one that serves a different power? HELEN: [HELEN LAUGHS AND LAUGHS, ECHOING] ARCHIVIST: Make them do things they don’t want to, make them… [BREATHING FASTER] find victims, feed?

(MAG147) ARCHIVIST: I’m sure the flares will work fine. … I mean, un–unless it’s all some… elaborate… plot… to have us… burn this place down again. BASIRA: So what if it is? ARCHIVIST: I don’t follow…? BASIRA: I mean. Anything we do could be part of the “Grand Master Plan”. So – what, we do nothing? Just… sit on our hands, and hope that’s not what the spiders want? ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] […] ARCHIVIST: So, she is… watching the Institute. Interfering with things. … [HUFF] Is that reassuring, or… really, really bad…? I can’t say I’m… [HUFF] I can’t say I’m sad to have another ally allegedly on our side, but I don’t like the idea of being important to The Web. … That’s a really bad place to be…

(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? […] O–kay. [SIGH] 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.

(MAG172) MARTIN: [LONG SIGH] Jon, what does The Web want? It’s… I mean, we know it’s got a plan, can’t you just… see what it is? ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] “Knowing”, “seeing”… i–it’s not the same thing as… understanding. Every time I try to know what The Web’s plan is, if it can even be called a plan, I see… a hundred thousand events and causes and links, an impossibly intricate pattern of consequences and subtle nudges, but I–I can’t…! … I can’t hold them all in my head at the same time. There’s no way to see the “whole”, the, the point of it all. I can see all the details, but it doesn’t… provide… context or… intention. I suppose The Web doesn’t work in knowledge, not in the same way.

(MAG180) ARCHIVIST: So… Annabelle, what are you playing at, what are you doing here? ANNABELLE: I really wouldn’t worry about that. I’m just helping out around the place a little bit. Making myself at home. You know how it is.

(MAG181) ARCHIVIST: [SHARPLY] I don’t intend to accept anything offered by Annabelle Cane. MARTIN: [SIGH] SALESA: Oh, you know Annabelle? [SILENCE BUT FOR CLOCK TICKING IN THE BACKGROUND] ARCHIVIST: … Sort of. You do know she’s part of The Web? SALESA: [SARCASTICALLY] No? I assumed the thread holding her head together was due to a childhood knitting accident! [CHUCKLES] MARTIN: Ha! SALESA: Of course I know she’s with The Web. ARCHIVIST: … And that doesn’t bother you? […] And perhaps you’re now just trying to humanise yourself so we underestimate your next move…! […] I don’t have my powers, if it came to a physical fight I really don’t rate our chances…! […] That’s the trouble with old houses, I suppose. Full of spiders.

(MAG194) MELANIE: So, what other reason might she want him? ARCHIVIST: To get to me? To… turn him a–against us, or–or make him an offer or… I don’t know, she serves The Web! So i–it’s probably some… bullshit domino… cause-and-effect… thing we can’t even begin to guess!

Jon has not been the only one to refer to The Web as the Fear that will always get its way, but every time Jon gets defensive and antagonistic towards it, ready to blame everything on it… I wonder if it’s not a projection of Jon’s own fears and trauma (the fact that he barely managed to escape Mr Spider’s clutch, and that it took his bully instead of him) rather than anything grounded in reality. Knowing that The Web is around is enough for him to get antagonistic, to go spiralling, to refuse to assume anything obvious… and there is such consistency in Jon’s perception of The Web that I have trouble taking it at face value? Is it really the nature of The Web to function on obfuscated plans, or does Jon present it as way more threatening thanit actually is because of his personal trauma…?

(And in return: not sure either that Martin has a full grasp of Jon’s fear of The Web. He has known since season 1 that Jon didn’t like spiders; he didn’t question that Jon would worry about Annabelle; he was aware that The Web could get in people’s head in MAG172 when he refused for Jon to take a look in his mind to see if he was influenced, and had been afraid of the fact that he had began to wander in the domain. But does Martin know that Jon was traumatised by The Web as a kid, that even Jonah thought that The Web had sent Jon towards him for his ritual? Does Martin know about Mr. Spider, did Jon ever tell him? Jon hadn’t told him about how his worst recent experience, the one that had made him feel the most “powerless”, had been at the hands of Daisy…)

- Best sound descriptor of the season:

(MAG194) ARCHIVIST: [EXASPERATED] How am I supposed to know? I… I can’t see anything, down here! MELANIE: For god’s sake! Pull your head out of your arse, stop trying to use it as a bloody antenna, and actually try thinking! ARCHIVIST: Just listen, Melanie, I– argh! Ow! [THE ARCHIVIST IS STRUCK, NOT WITH A REVELATION BUT MELANIE’S CANE] MELANIE: Think! ARCHIVIST: Ow…! I don’t know!

MELANIE……………

(It was harsh, but she had a point that Jon was instinctively trying to rely on his powers rather than trying to think things through. Understandable given that he’s worried for Martin, but Jon kind of did the same thing at Upton House, when he tried to compel Salesa to get his story instead of asking it the non-spooky way. The way Jon will instinctively reach for his Beholding powers rather than making a conscious decision to use them every time is a bit worrisome…?)

- YAY FOR HILL TOP ROAD.

(MAG194) MELANIE: Think! ARCHIVIST: Ow…! I don’t know! Somewhere she’d be strong? A, a place of power, a, a Web domain… MELANIE: Yeah… I… ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] MELANIE: I… don’t think there’s anywhere like that in London… ARCHIVIST: No. I–it’s all Eye, one way or another. MELANIE: So, what about nearby? … Hmm? … Uh, Jon? ARCHIVIST: [REALISING] Oh god… MELANIE: Wh… what? ARCHIVIST: … They’re going to Hill Top Road.

* HTR as still being a place-of-power for The Web had been established for a while:

(MAG139, Eugene Vanderstock) “The compromise we came to… was Hill Top Road. We knew it was a stronghold of The Web, full of other children Agnes’s age.”

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

But it also means “Agnes”, and “the scar in reality” after her fight with Fielding…

* I’m surprised that Melanie didn’t think of Hill Top Road either, since she had been part of the expedition there in MAG147, had seen the cobwebs, had been there the previous episode when it had been established that they were going there to precisely find Annabelle, since Jon thought she might be, and was also there when it turned out that Annabelle had left a statement in the house. I mean! Where else could Annabelle have gone?

* I’m super excited that Martin is going first with Annabelle since… he hadn’t been part of that expedition in season 4, and I remember the interrogations about whether he wasn’t supposed to go (yet) but was meant to visit the place on his own at some point.

* Following Martin&Annabelle’s trail, for Jon, means directly going against one of Annabelle’s “orders”:

(MAG147, Annabelle Cane) “Or perhaps I am simply telling you what you need to hear, in order to behave exactly as the Mother wishes you to. [STATIC RISES, GRADUALLY] Perhaps… I have never even seen a beach. Don’t… go to Hill Top Road again.” [STATIC FADES] ARCHIVIST: … Statement ends…! [INHALE] That was, er… I d– … I–I didn’t like that. I couldn’t… [STUTTERING] [CLEARS THROAT]

And he did end up… not coming back, and there was static when she said it (plain old static, which usually indicates that something supernatural is going on). Was it a compulsion, a supernatural order…? Will he have to fight against this to be able to go and enter Hill Top Road again…? Why was he not meant to stay around the house even before the Change, what is hidden there, what was he not supposed to interact with…?

- Annabelle had dangled her “help” to Martin for a looong while this season – the question wasn’t really if but rather when she would finally make her move:

(MAG163) MARTIN: Uh… Jon? [OLD PHONE RINGING] Uh, Jo–Jon, the, uh, the payphone that’s… here, for some reason, it’s–it’s ringing? [OLD PHONE RINGING] Jon, is–is that… [ASKING AROUND] I–is anyone gonna get that? [OLD PHONE RINGING] … Unless it’s for me? [OLD PHONE RINGING] [SIGH] Yeah, it’s for me. Uh… nnno. [OLD PHONE RINGING] N–no, no, I don’t think so, actually! Hum, thanks, but that, that sounds like a really… terrible idea! [OLD PHONE RINGING] Hm, sorry! [SILENCE] … Huh. Wwwell, all right then! [BODIES WADING THROUGH LIQUID] ARCHIVIST: Martin, you need to keep up. It’s not safe. … Martin? You okay? MARTIN: Uh, I… Th–ther–there was a phone – that phone. ARCHIVIST: … Oh. MARTIN: It… Yeah, it was ringing? ARCHIVIST: Oh. Right… Did you answer it? MARTIN: No. ARCHIVIST: Hm. [INHALE] Probably for the best…! MARTIN: Yeeaahh.

(MAG164) MARTIN: Fair point~! Okay, okay, uh, what else, what else, hum… Oh! Hum, uh, who was, uh–uh, phone – hum, wh–who was calling me? [STATIC INCREASES] ARCHIVIST: … I think it was Annabelle Cane. MARTIN: Hm. ARCHIVIST: That’s… weird, I, I know The Web was wrapped around that phone, but, but I can’t… see her. A–at all. At least with Georgie and Melanie, I have a vague sense they’re still alive, i–in London, and, or– Well, what was London. [STATIC DECREASES] But Annabelle…? Nothing. [STATIC FADES] Hm. MARTIN: W–well, I’ll… I’ll ask her, next time she calls. ARCHIVIST: Well, I know that’s a bad idea…!

(MAG166) MARTIN: For god’s sake…! [WIPING HIS HANDS] [NOKIA RINGTONE, CLEARER] [MUFFLED BUZZING] [BAG JOSTLING] [BEEP] MARTIN: Hello? ANNABELLE: Hello? Is that Martin? MARTIN: Don’t do that. ANNABELLE: What? No stomach for games? MARTIN: Well, your “games” aren’t exactly fun for everyone, are they? ANNABELLE: Very few games are…! MARTIN: [SIGH] Look, look, look, I’m talking to Annabelle Cane, right? ANNABELLE: You never gave me your name – so why should I offer mine? MARTIN: Just, what do you want? ANNABELLE: I want to help you, of course. [SILENCE] MARTIN: … No. Thank you.

(MAG167) [STATIC RISES] ARCHIVIST: Help us with what? MARTIN: ‘xcuse me? ARCHIVIST: Annabelle, help us with “what”? Our–our, our journey, killing Elias, vanishing the Entities – what? [FOOTSTEPS STOP] MARTIN: Please don’t do that. […] She offered to help, but she didn’t say what with; she… asked us where we were going. I didn’t tell her, but… [SNORT] it was pretty obvious she had a good idea. ARCHIVIST: 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.

(MAG181) ANNABELLE: Perhaps I just value my privacy. MARTIN: Fine, fine! Why did you call me before? ANNABELLE: Perhaps I thought you could use a friendly voice…! MARTIN: “Friendly”!? You told me Jon didn’t need me! ANNABELLE: Objectively true. MARTIN: [AGGRAVATED SIGH] ANNABELLE: And more importantly, perhaps I thought you might need a little bit of righteous indignation to help you power through the next steps. MARTIN: … I, I don’t like being manipulated. ANNABELLE: Then we probably aren’t going to be friends. […] Don’t worry, Martin. We’ll meet again. Hopefully when you’re feeling a little bit more… open-minded…! MARTIN: I wouldn’t count on it. ANNABELLE: I would. MARTIN: [SIGH] ARCHIVIST: That’s the trouble with old houses, I suppose. Full of spiders. ANNABELLE: You boys better take care of yourselves. I’m sure we’ll see each other again very soon. Here! Why don’t I show you out?

My questions are still: why Martin, and why didn’t she make her offer when Jon&Martin were at Upton House? Regarding the latter: Annabelle had implied that she was waiting for Martin to be in better dispositions (“open-minded”), which wasn’t the case at Upton House. During their previous exchanges, Martin was wary and antagonising towards her, but something kind of changed with this episode: Jon just insisted that they should consider the idea that Jon would sacrifice himself, which was the scenario Martin felt strongly against, and as Jon pointed out… there are now lacking other options.

(MAG186) MARTIN: So. This price. What do you think? Are we going to have to kill Jon? ALSO MARTIN: … I don’t know, because you don’t know. But… it seems like something we should at least consider. MARTIN: … I… have thought about it, and… I won’t. I, I don’t think I could…! ALSO MARTIN: Mmhmm. MARTIN: But anything else? Any other price? I’ll pay it. ALSO MARTIN: Even dying? MARTIN: Yeah! ALSO MARTIN: Jon’s as bad as we are. He wouldn’t let it happen. MARTIN: It’s not his decision. ALSO MARTIN: Fine. So flip that round, then. What are you going to do when he tries to sacrifice himself, because you know he’s going to try? MARTIN: I don’t know all right? [SIGH] I don’t know.

(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.

(MAG194) ARCHIVIST: [QUIETLY] It… it might be our only option. MARTIN: [VEHEMENTLY] What are you talking about?! How, how is it an “option”? Okay, setting aside the fact that it’s a suicidal idea, it’s just completely stupid! What actual good would it do? Right now, as far as I can see, we’d just be… swapping one self-important, floating, hollowed-out terror zombie for another! ARCHIVIST: It’s not like that! MARTIN: Really? Then please, enlighten me. Go on, I’m all ears! ARCHIVIST: Look. Right, when I said that I would “replace” Jonah in there, that’s not… I m– … That place, the centre of The Eye, i–it’s… it wasn’t made for him. That’s why he’s like that, it’s too much, it’s overwhelmed him, his whole being just destroyed…! MARTIN: Oh yeah? But let me guess, it was made for you? ARCHIVIST: Yes! MARTIN: [PETULANTLY] Of course it is! Of course, it is! Because how could this journey possibly end with anything less than the final, supreme destiny of the Archivist, plugged into the great fear machine for all eternity and, and abandoning humanity. Breaking his promise…! […] ARCHIVIST: … Martin… MARTIN: We’re here to stop this, not… not take it over…! [SILENCE BUT FOR THE DISTANT DRONE NOISES] ARCHIVIST: What other choice do we have? MARTIN: I–I don’t know, all right! I d–, but there is one. Because there has to be. ARCHIVIST: But what if there isn’t? How long are we going to wander around hopelessly searching before we end up back here anyway? MARTIN: You were the one that wanted to take some time to think things over…! ARCHIVIST: We can’t just dismiss this. It might be our only option. [SILENCE SAVE FOR THE TOWER NOISES] MARTIN: … No. ARCHIVIST: No? MARTIN: No! I forbid it.

Martin’s initial declaration was precisely that he would refuse to kill Jon, which is not the exact same thing that he made Jon promise when they were resting in the tunnels – that Jon would actively try to find another way than sacrificing himself, and wouldn’t do it out of guilt. Martin also told Jon that he wouldn’t “doom the world” over his love for him, but… deciding this in quiet circumstances is yet again different from being directly confronted by the possibility. So, in any case: Jon&Martin had begun their journey with the intention of confronting Elias (MAG162: “Do you think it’ll do anything? Confronting Elias?” “I… Maybe?” “No, I’m serious. Do we… Is there a chance that we can undo this?” “Gertrude didn’t think so.” “… Right.” “But she’s dead. Let’s find out for ourselves.”), they did reach Elias but discovered that a “confrontation” was impossible anyway, that it might even have been Beholding trying to lure Jon here to take Elias’s place, they don’t have any more info, they’re lacking options and the only potential “solution” presented by Jon isn’t, as Martin pointed out, really one. That’s not utter desperation yet, but still dire enough to understand that Martin would finally be in ~better dispositions~ to hear Annabelle out, even if he’s probably planning to backstab like with Elias and Peter (while knowing that Annabelle knows that he knows that she knows that he knows that she knows… that he doesn’t trust her and will seek any opportunity to neutralise her).

But still, why Martin and not Jon…? Annabelle tried to contact him at the beginning of season 5, and once again addressed him when they left Upton House. Martin had also reacted strangely inside of The Web��s domain:

(MAG172) MARTIN: … Sorry. You were starting another and, I didn’t want to wait. We should get going. ARCHIVIST: Y–you were listening, I… I–I–I thought that you– MARTIN: No, I… Not for most of it. I just thought I heard… something. Whatever. I went exploring, all right? I don’t know why; I shouldn’t have. ARCHIVIST: No, you–you shouldn’t have! […] MARTIN: Can we just go, please? ARCHIVIST: Of course, but… You were safe here. And after everything that’s already happened, I… I–I just don’t understand why you would– MARTIN: [SHAKEY] Me neither, okay! ARCHIVIST: What? MARTIN: I mean, that’s it, isn’t it?! I don’t know! I don’t know why I went exploring! ARCHIVIST: Are you saying you were… compelled? MARTIN: I’m saying I don’t know, do I? I thought I was just curious, it felt like curiosity, but… given where we are, and with The Web everywhere, and Annabelle Cane still out there playing mind games with payphones, I just… [SIGH] I mean, how do you even know if it’s your motivation, you know? Being here… [SIGH] I–it just makes me second-guess all of it, and I… I don’t like it, it… really scares me.

Why does Annabelle and/or The Web seek Martin first and foremost, and not Jon…? Is it only to use Martin as bait to get to Jon, as Jon mentioned, since direct contacts would be more likely to go very badly (he was aware that Annabelle had only decided to show herself when she had the guarantee that Jon wouldn’t be able to use his powers on her, in MAG181: “Look. I–it’s no accident we finally meet face-to-face in the one place I–I can’t get any answers out of her.” “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean…!”), or is it about something inherent to Martin…?

It’s very funny, in a horrible way, because alongside a long list of parallels with the end of season 4 (Jon panicking because a reccurring avatar linked to another Fear has taken Martin in a place that is still a mystery to Jon), we’re also back to the same questions we had back then – why did Peter need Martin specifically? It turned out that he needed him as a dual Lonely/Eye candidate to take control of the Panopticon, which would allow him to win his bet against Elias, Martin’s final decision of whether or not he would take Jonah’s place deciding of the outcome. Does Annabelle need him as a Lonely/Eye avatar? As someone who could also dip his toes in with The Web? As Jon’s anchor?

- There is the question of why Martin followed her, and whether he did so “willingly”… given that we know how The Web interacts with free will:

(MAG056, Trevor Herbert) “she locked eyes with me. The weirdest sensation began to flow through me; I wanted to leave. It wasn’t like with a vampire, where I would feel like I’d been spoken to. This was just a sudden awareness of my own desire. I’d been sober for three years at that point, but I felt like I desperately wanted to get high, and I knew that the best place to get some was out in the night. Looking back, I think it might have been my own mind rationalising the way I felt my will being tugged out of the room, but it was still very powerful. If I hadn’t had a lifetime’s experience of identifying and fighting off the effect of the vampire’s gaze, I probably would have done it, too.”

(MAG059, Ronald Sinclair) “There was something about living there, though, that… dulled the urge. My memories of a lot of my time there are, well… not exactly foggy, but feel almost like I’m watching someone else’s memories. I remember that it sometimes felt like I do things without actually deciding to do them, like it was just muscle memory moving me, or a string gently guiding me. It was never bad, or dangerous stuff, just… things I wouldn’t normally have done, like brushing my teeth. […] Then, without warning, I wasn’t waiting anymore. I had turned around, put down my suitcase, and started walking back towards Raymond Fielding’s house. I didn’t want to go back. I had no reason to go back, but I had apparently decided to anyway, because I knew that’s where I was going. After two and a half years, I was rather used to this feeling, but there was something else there, this time, something in the back of my mind – a frantic scuttling terror. It didn’t do any good, though. I was returning to Hill Top Road, no matter what I might feel about it. Choices didn’t even come into it. The door was unlocked when I returned, and the house was quiet. My eyes darted around looking for anyone who might be able to tell me what was going on, why the fine threads that pulled me through my life had dragged me back here, but I was alone.”

(MAG081) ARCHIVIST: “MR. SPIDER WANTS ANOTHER GUEST FOR DINNER” it reads, “IT IS POLITE TO KNOCK”. I feel my hand closing into a fist and reaching for the door, preparing to rap my knuckles on the grimy old wood. It was at that moment that a hand far bigger than my own slapped the book from my grip, before shoving me hard in the chest and sending me sprawling onto the floor. I was in the park a few roads away from my house. Had I taken the book there to read? Or did I somehow wander there while engrossed in it. To this day I don’t know, but I was in the park, and standing over me was… you know for the life of me I can’t remember his name. […] But as he did so, he flicked through it, and as his eyes passed over more and more of the page, the words tailed off, and he seemed to be reading it himself. His hands shook ever so slightly as he slowly made his way through it, and his legs began to move. It was jerky and unsteady, and he didn’t seem to notice that he was doing it.

(MAG110, Alexia Crawley) “According to Dexter, Kumo was an old tokusatsu movie which, he believed, had come out sometime in the mid-to-late sixties. It was about a Spider – just the one, despite the title – that grew to a colossal size and terrorised a small unnamed island off the coast of Kagoshima. What struck him about it, though, was the utter absence of anything resembling a hero or a protagonist. No one fought against the monster, and although there were vignettes in the lives of those under the Spider’s shadow, they all ended the exact same way – with the character in question marching slowly, and calmly, into its waiting jaws.”

(MAG123, Angie Santos) “She just mumbled something about custom requirements, and told Greg to drink his latte. Which he did, so he tells me, though… he can’t stand milk in his coffee. […] I haven’t given the name of this mystery client because to be honest, Greg’s never told me. I’ve asked him plenty of times, but whenever I do, he gives me this… surprised look, insists he’s told me before, and then immediately forgets and changes the subject.”

(MAG136, Alison Killala) “I was about to ask her to wait while I checked with him but as I started to speak, she turned her head, revealing a mass of white thread, criss-crossing all over the side of her temple, standing starkly against the dark brown of her skin. She told me to sit down. And I did. I heard the levers and pulleys move behind me and I could tell that Neil was being walked down the corridor towards this woman… but I couldn’t see. I couldn’t turn my head. […] He called her “Annabelle”, and she sent me to his screening room. She told me I was to watch his original cuts – “Just until we’re all done here,” she said. And as I walked away from Neil, the last time I saw him alive… he was dancing. The cables shifting, and moving him in a graceful, sweeping ballet. And he was crying with joy. I don’t know how long I was watching those films. They don’t… It was hard to keep track of time. According to my daughter, I was missing for five months. When Annabelle let me out, Neil was dead. […] She told me to take the films. His… “original cuts”. She told me to come here. She told me to give them to you. I resisted for some time, but I’m done now. She’s won. And I’d… very much like to go home.”

I’m ready to write off a lot of Annabelle’s statement as things she said to mess with Jon on purpose (it worked.), but we nonetheless got a few demonstrations of Web agents or items being able to make people do things they didn’t necessarily want or that were actively harmful to them, and Annabelle in particular does have those powers according to the statements, so… there are various hypotheses regarding Martin following her:

* No choice at all, just like the kids at Ray’s house – he might be aware of what he’s doing but can’t do anything about it.

* More subtle manipulation along the lines of: he thinks he’s choosing to go, but the Spider is inside his head anyway, so he’s not aware of his own lack of decision on the matter. (Annabelle highlighted that this conception of The Web was a bit of a rabbit hole, since how does one know that their actions are not influenced by anything or anyone, at which point do internal mechanisms stop being just “our” decision? But we got Trevor highlighting what had happened to him, that he could feel that something was pulling strings.)

* Ugly blackmail: there were survivors in the tunnels, Celia was even around (since she saw them), so could have been a case of threatening to harm them if Martin didn’t follow her?

* Nothing supernatural, just the mundane manipulation of Annabelle offering her “help” to Martin when he’s lacking options. As mentioned above, I feel like after the beginning of the episode, Martin would have enough reasons to cling to any new possibility, even if it’s coming from someone he loathes, in case it could lead to a better alternative than Jon’s current one? With Martin thinking/hoping that he could outsmart her in the end?

- Another question is then why Annabelle went to fetch Martin when Jon wasn’t around, and why Martin agreed to leave without Jon…

* It’s interesting that Martin’s departure was still seen by someone, Celia, who could report to Jon. It wasn’t as sneaky as it could have been – so it sounds a bit intentional as a message (making sure that Jon would know that Martin left, and with whom).

* Regarding Martin’s choice: as far as urgency goes, the fact that he left for what-used-to-be Oxford has the added benefit of ensuring that Jon won’t fall into Beholding’s embrace at the top of the tower, because Jon would obviously follow Martin.

* … Timing-wise, it’s extremely interesting that Annabelle apparently went to get Martin while Jon was giving a statement outside. The tunnels are mostly insulated from The Eye (hence Jon mentioning he had trouble seeing and knowing) but it’s not a perfect protection – Jon pointed out that his condition there wasn’t as bad as at Upton house, and we could still hear static when he tried to use his powers while there had been truly nothing at Upton House. Did Annabelle need to sneak in and out when something else was focusing on Jon and wouldn’t notice her? Is it about Beholding? Is it about the tape recorder while it was focusing on Jon?)

* Relatedly: interesting that no tape recorder caught Martin’s departure. We know they’re not affected by the camera, so… is it because they’re Web/Annabelle and didn’t need that information when doing something, is it that they can only focus on one thing at a time, is it because Martin’s privacy mattered in that moment…?

- Once again, What Does The Spider Want but some things I like to keep in mind: we tend to equate “Annabelle” to “The Web”, which is not necessarily true. Jon’s description of Beholding artefacts and their level of consciousness was quite interesting in that regard:

(MAG194) ARCHIVIST: … Why am I even talking to you? You don’t even have a mind, not really. That’s what you want, isn’t it? Something to be your focus, your will. Keeping you fed, and placated and content!

The Fears, as themselves, are mostly drawn to being fed: is Annabelle really working to keep The Web fed, or are her intentions different? We’ve met various people who were actively hating their patron and going against it – Archival assistants, Gertrude, Jon, even Jonah postured as using Beholding for his own gains rather than truly worshipping it like other avatars. They were all Beholding folks, plus the ambiguous case of Agnes (who may have truly hoped that she would be able to carry out the cult’s ritual… or may have sabotaged the Lightless Flame by pretending that they had to wait for her and may have been actually fine with her daily life), who was bound to Gertrude and could also have been influenced by Beholding through that link (Agnes was described as staring a lot in the café, while Gertrude began to mostly use fire and explosives during her operations).

Is Annabelle absolutely in synch with her patron and working for its supremacy in yet another form (taking Beholding’s place at the top of the pyramid?), or could it turn out that she is in the same sort of situation as Jon, resentful towards the Fear that transformed her and made her rely on hurting others to thrive…?

We know that Annabelle hurt people, or was involved in things that ended up hurting people – the participants in the experiments leading to her creation have disappeared since then, the website Annabelle had commissioned led to a few people’s deaths (the Chelicerae’s website developer disappeared, we know that people had tried to contact him to apologise because they were suffering from the consequences, we know of at least one person who was turned into a spider husk, and Carlos Vittery died of spider and his name was in the website code), that Neil Lagorio died when she was in his home… but I still wonder. The whole Neil Lagorio statement had felt to me like, in the background, an older generation was passing down their knowledge to a younger one and/or that the younger one had come to grant their last wish (dancing). Was it a similar “mercy-kill” as what Salesa hoped for, or was it something else…? Was it even truly a mercy-kill in Salesa’s case? I can’t help but remember the differences between Salesa, who decided to stay in his safe protected bubble rather than actively helping, and Georgie&Melanie, who took the active decision to provide help, even in feeble measure… and who were there, sleeping and absolutely vulnerable. Annabelle had the capacity to be way more lethal than what she actually did, so I’m still at a loss about her intentions – on the one hand, it feels like she might have actively helped to get Jon marked, on the other hand… what she personally get from the apocalypse, how is it a mean to an end? Is it to strengthen The Web? Is it to destroy the Fears?

(- Another thing is that… it would have been easy for Annabelle to just kill off one of the survivors in the tunnels, if her intention was to take Martin with her and/or make Jon panic? We know that Helen had tried to grab Celia – the tunnels are not an absolute protection. But she didn’t.)

- Same thing with Hill Top Road as with Annabelle: we knew she would try to do something, the question was “when”, and in the same way, we knew Hill Top Road was coming – the season 4 Q&A had mentioned that we weren’t done with it, and MAG147 had felt like Annabelle was sending the signal that it was narratively too early for Jon to go there. Well, another question was also whether we would hear the whole story about it there, or through something left in the Panopticon/the Archives.

I still wonder if the Web domain near Helen’s hotel was Hill Top Road?

(MAG187) [STATIC INCREASES] HELEN: … Or you could just stand there glowering, that’s fine too. ARCHIVIST: I’m trying to know if there’s another route I can take. HELEN: And? [STATIC DECREASES] ARCHIVIST: Turns out there is, actually. But it is rather full of spiders.

Helen had lurked around HTR and tried to lure people inside to learn about it, so it would have been fitting for her to have taken roots nearby?

Regarding HTR: we’ve had many indications that time&space were wobbly concepts there even before the Change:

(MAG008, Ivo Lensik) “It must have been 8 or 9 in the evening, as it had been dark for a couple of hours. I was working on the ground floor wiring when I heard a knock at the front door. […] I opened the door to see an unassuming man in a tan coat. He was quite young, white, maybe mid-twenties, clean-shaven with shaggy, chestnut brown hair. His coat was quite an old cut; it seemed to me he looked like something out of an old Polaroid. He said his name was Raymond Fielding and that he owned the house. As he spoke, I felt my grip on the hammer tightening although I have no idea why. I asked him if he had any ID or documents and he handed over to me what seemed, as far as I could tell, to be the deed to the house, as well as the land beneath, and did indeed list a man named Raymond Fielding as the owner. So I let him in. […] After a minute or two, I became conscious of a sharp, unpleasant smell. I thought maybe I had wired something up wrong, but no, it smelled like burning human hair. I looked over to where Raymond had been standing but he was gone. Where he had been there was just a patch of scorched wooden floor, still apparently smouldering and giving off that dreadful stink. […] Even so, there were occasional moments when I would find myself the only one working in a room, or when silence fell across the building. And then I would smell it again, that whiff of burnt hair, or catch a glimpse of brown pigtails disappearing around a corner.” [��] ARCHIVIST: Two families have lived in the house since this statement was originally made but no further manifestations have been reported on Hill Top Road.

(MAG114, Anya Villette) “Obviously it was my decision. I remember the little handle was warm. I don’t know if that’s just my memory playing tricks on me, but I do remember that. It opened to reveal stairs going down into a basement. Nobody had mentioned a basement. Not when they gave me the job, not on the floor plan they’d given me; I’d had absolutely no idea it was there. […] But now… everything’s wrong. I went to clean that house on April the 23rd 2009 which, according to all of you, is tomorrow. But it can’t be. That was two weeks ago.”

(MAG147) MELANIE: When did you say they finished rebuilding? ARCHIVIST: 2008? MELANIE: Hm! ARCHIVIST: Doesn’t look like anyone ever… moved in, though. BASIRA: So this is… ten years of cobwebs? DAISY: More than that. [FOOTSTEPS] MELANIE: [INHALE] No, I’m sure this is just the normal number of webs that grow up organically…! […] DAISY: Clear. [DOOR CLOSES] Looks like nothing downstairs. BASIRA: You wanna… take a moment, before we head up? ARCHIVIST: What about the basement? DAISY: Can’t see one. ARCHIVIST: Huh…

Ivo had seen Raymond Fielding and glimpses of kid!Agnes, there is the question of what happened with Anya, there is the question of whether or not the house had been occupied for the last few years, there is the question of whether or not there was actually a basement in the new house that was built there (and whether it’s the same basement Ray used to take the kids to become spiders eggs sacks once they were legally leaving his house). There is the overall question of what happened at Hill Top Road between Agnes and Raymond, leaving the place ~scarred~:

(MAG139, Eugene Vanderstock) “I was… not one of those assigned to watch our chosen one, so I can’t say much about exactly what happened within the walls of that house. But it seems the fight scarred the place in a way far deeper than simple fire. A scar in reality, that I believe has since been compounded by the interferences of other powers. Regardless, the effect it had on Agnes was unanticipated. As far as we could tell, she had destroyed the place utterly. And yet, she remained bound to it, tied to it in some vital way.”

(MAG146) HELEN: There is… something wrong, with Hill Top Road. You know it as well as I do. Some strange “scar in reality” at the centre of… whatever it is the Spider is spinning. When young mister McKenzie passed, it seemed like a good opportunity for an experiment. To see what would happen if I… lured him inside. But it seems I just don’t have The Web’s gift for… manipulation, or persuasion.

*whispers* I know that the popular theory is that HTR leads to a parallel universe, usually citing Anya’s experience, but I’m really not convinced – her whole statement still sounds like textbook Spiral to me, confusing her sense of time and space…? (Down to her name, “Anya Villette”, which sounds like a distortion of “Anne/Annie/Anna Willett (/Kasuma)”, the nurse who had told the HTR story to Father Burroughs in season 1). At the same time, back in season 4 I was seeing the hints and clues regarding Elias potentially being Jonah Magnus body-hopping and I wasn’t really “feeling” it either, and look at what was revealed at the end of that season, so who knows.

- Anyway!! I love that yep, it feels like the Panostitute is partially “done” for now (we won’t hear more information from there) so the last big scene is at HTR, which had been relevant for a looong while (since MAG008, and historically, from Gertrude’s time), whether we go back to the Panostitute at the end or not.

HTR was already weird before the Change (there was constant static in the background when the group visited it in MAG147, it was spooky), I wonder how it will look now… and we might get the Agnes statement I’ve been hoping for, whether through Jon (like he did with Gertrude in MAG167), or from Annabelle, or from a tape, or from a ghost of her…? Or a statement from the house itself, in situ from Jon?

- I wonder whether Georgie and Melanie (or one of them) will go with Jon to Hill Top Road? The people they rescued might be a reason for them to stay behind: they’re partially protected in the tunnels, but we know that Helen had visited them and had tried to get Celia, and there are the old Archivists near the stairs. Melanie&Georgie still offer an additional protection. Melanie had also pointed out that their protection didn’t work for long for other people outside (MAG190: “And… that’s when we discovered that we can keep others hidden as well. Not completely, and, and, not for long, but… it’s enough to get them here to the tunnels.”), so it won’t be a case of the whole group (Jon, Melanie, Georgie, the seven survivors) striding off together to Hill Top Road. So I don’t know if one of them will leave with Jon, or both (despite what it would mean for the survivors), or if precisely, the fact they have to protect the others in the tunnels will be a reason for them to stay behind and not go with Jon…?

(The situation is already very reminiscent of the end of season 4 with some changes in that previous narrative: unlike MAG157, Georgie&Melanie are currently helping Jon. They don’t need to come along with him to get Martin back for us to already feel that they’re helping.)

- I wonder if Jon will have to knock to enter Hill Top Road again. Someone whisked away inside of it and, contrary to the incident from his childhood… Jon having to go through that door, too, this time (“MR. SPIDER WANTS ANOTHER GUEST FOR DINNER. IT IS POLITE TO KNOCK”).

(One of my favourite details of early seasons is how people who knew Jon and expected him to be in his office… never knocked on his door, as if they knew that it made him uneasy. And season 5 had begun, in the trailer, with a “Knock Knock” joke…)

- List of stuff that is still left hanging:

* Jon’s lighter, which was mentioned for the last time at the end of MAG162 (when Martin pointed out that Jon still had it). Funny thing: next episode is MAG195, 35th episode of the season… and Breekon&Hope had delivered the table and the package at the end of MAG035. Jon opened the package at the end of MAG036, interrogated Martin about it in MAG037. So MAG196/MAG197 for when the nature of the lighter will finally be revealed (what it might have done to Jon, what is its purpose, who sent it in Jon’s way, if someone owned it before him)?

(* Since Jon is likely to leave London quite fast too: it seems nothing ominous after all was to happen involving the gas main in the tunnels, which had been brought up by Leitner&Gertrude’s tape in MAG162? I’m still uneasy about its existence and the fact that it had been moved down there for maximum destruction.)

* What Are The Tape Recorders – is someone listening through them, is someone curating what we hear of this story, is someone/something making them appear, etc.

* Annabelle’s and/or The Web’s intentions.

* Relatedly: what the camera might be used for? It’s possible that Annabelle only needed it to not be perceived by Beholding, but it’s also possible that she mostly needed to put it in a certain place – how will it interact with Hill Top Road? Will it ban the Fears from the house, thus making it… absolutely normal, deprived of any influence?

* What the fuck happened in Hill Top Road and what is the place like nowadays.

* Basira’s whereabouts? She was on her way to London. Will she join up with Jon before he leaves the tunnels or on his way to Hill Top Road? Will they miss each other? Will Annabelle orientate her towards Hill Top Road or has she already snatched her up too before Martin…?

Only six episodes to go…

At this point in time in previous seasons: Dr. Elliott was giving his statement about the anatomy students and pointing out to Jon that they had a worm infestation going on in the building; Jon was wondering what Michael got from his victims, and had discovered that someone was living in the tunnels and sometimes going up in the Archives; Jon read Anya’s statement, still had no clue about Hill Top Road, and finally got to talk with Tim, allowing them to find common ground; Jon had fought against Beholding’s pull, managing to find Eric’s tape, learning how to quit the Archives, and had immediately rushed to Martin to offer him to gouge their eyes out together to flee the Institute. As I mentioned, MAG194 reaally reminded me of MAG154 in some aspects, mainly around Jon and Martin’s argument ;w;

MAG195’s title is just PLAIN RUDE. It puts the Martin&Jon and Agnes&Gertrude bonds into my mind, or more precisely, well, the concept that those bonds got ruptured. Could also refer to Basira-without-Daisy, though she seemed to be doing more or less fine…? I’m not sure we’ll get to Hill Top Road directly, this episode might be a “regular” domain before it is reached; the title could work well for a Lonely or Vast domain? And Jon’s current, uh, state of mind…?

#~now formated~#the magnus archives #tma season 5 #mag194 #tma liveblog #tma spoilers #long post/

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softlass27 · 5 years ago

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Flufftober Day 6 – Quicksilver

This is a canon divergence on the 16th May 2016 episode, after Aaron breaks things off with Robert after overhearing him talking to Charity about the money Gordon left.

Some credit for this idea must go to @saras-almanac! Ever since we chatted about her canon-divergent fic letting go recently, I’ve really want to have a go at doing one of my own for that era. This is the result :)

AO3 link here

Get out of my house, and get out of my life.

Aaron’s mood changes like quicksilver these days, so fast that Robert can barely keep up. He’s always been fiery, had no trouble showing his emotions through his words or his actions – it’s part of what had drawn Robert to him in the first place. And with everything he’d been through in the last few months, Gordon, the trial… God, Robert doesn’t blame him for being all over the place.

But it’s been weeks now and… things aren’t getting better between them. If anything, they're getting worse. The quiet spark of hope that had Robert practically brimming with excitement not so long ago dims with each passing day, with each time Aaron lashes out at him or pushes him away.

Get out of my house, and get out of my life.

Robert trudges back to the Keeper’s, head down and hands in his pockets. He can’t seem to go more than a day without facing Aaron’s wrath, without being reminded of exactly what Aaron and his family really think of him, of where he really stands. He didn’t think getting the thing he wanted – the person he wanted – would be this hard, hurt this much.

As he reaches the cottage, he takes out his keys and unlocks the door on autopilot.

“Hiya,” Victoria calls from the kitchen, before poking her head out with a smile that dims as soon as she sees him. “Hey, you alright?”

Get out of my house, and get out of my life.

Fuck it.

“You fancy coming to see Gran with me?”

She blinks. “To Barcelona? When?”

“Tonight? Tomorrow? I still have those tickets.”

“But I thought you wanted to take Aaron to… ” Vic trails off, probably because of the look on his face. She stares at him for a long moment, considering, before nodding her head.

“Go on, then.”

It’s the next morning, crack of dawn, and they’re in the departures lounge. Well, Robert’s in the departures lounge, Victoria’s nipped to WHSmith to find a cheap paperback to read (although knowing her she’ll just come back with a load of magazines) while he watches their bags.

He’s on the verge of dozing off, when his phone rings. Aaron’s name flashes up on the screen and Robert’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. He’d tried calling him last night, just to let him know he wouldn’t be around in case… God, he doesn’t even know. There’d been no answer.

Robert hesitates for a few seconds, lets it ring a couple of times while he considers letting it go to voicemail, before steeling himself and answering the call.

“Hello?”

“I’m outside,” Aaron says down the line. He sounds… blunt as always, but not particularly angry, not in the way he’d been yesterday.

“What?”

“I’m outside yours. Vic’s. Come down, will you?”

“Er… ” Robert hadn’t planned for this, didn’t expect Aaron to come anywhere near him after yesterday. He gulps and tries to remind himself that he’s not done anything wrong. “I’m not there, actually. I’m not in the village right now.”

“Alright,” Aaron says, light and casual. There’s a faint scuffing sound in the background, and Robert can picture him rubbing the sleeve of his hoodie against his stubbled jaw. “Will you be back soon?”

“In a few days. Sunday night.”

“What?” The casual tone is swapped for confusion. “Where the hell are you?”

“At the airport.”

“Where’re you going?”

“Barcelona.”

There’s a long silence, and Robert’s stomach twists unpleasantly. He wishes he hadn't picked up. “Oh. I thought we were – you went without me?”

Why do you care? He wants to snap back, as the old him definitely would have done. You didn’t want me there and you were never going to come with me, either. There was never gonna be a good time for you, not in the middle of all this. I wanted you to meet my Gran, my only other family, but now you say you don’t want anything to do with me, so why should I bother waiting? What's the point?

But he doesn’t say any of that. He’s trying to be better.

“I tried ringing you but – look, we can still go another time if you like, I don’t mind booking more tickets. But I only had so long to postpone these ones and I’d already made… ” He can’t bring himself to tell Aaron about Annie, not over the phone. “Anyway, you said you wanted me gone so… ”

“So you’re going to another country?”

“Rob!” Robert looks up to see Victoria coming over with an armful of magazines.

“I – hang on a sec,” Robert said into the phone, before cover the speaker with his hand. “What, Vic?”

“Oh soz, didn’t mean to interrupt. Just got you this.” She drops a car magazine he likes into his lap and takes the seat next to him.

Robert shakes his head and speaks to Aaron again. “Sorry, back now.”

“Is there someone else there?” The words are sharp, accusatory.

“Well I weren’t about to go alone, I’m not that sad.” He’s about to say he’s with Victoria, maybe try lightening the mood by making a joke about how much luggage she’s brought, but Aaron’s talking again before he has the chance.

“Right, I see how it is.” The rage that Robert is all-too familiar with is back in his voice. “You get bored of having to wait longer than five minutes for me so you just bugger off with some random?”

“What?” Shit, no. “Aaron no, it’s not like that. I’m just with – ”

“You know what, save it.”

“Aaron wait, I – Aaron?” Nothing. He’s gone.

“Fuck.” Robert jabs at the screen, quickly calling Aaron back and praying he’ll pick up so he can tell him he’s got this wrong, all wrong. But it’s fruitless; Aaron doesn’t answer and if Robert knows him at all, he won’t be answering for some time.

“Was that Aaron?” Victoria asks with the same tentative concern she’d shown last night.

“Yep.” He sighs and tosses the phone on top of the magazine in his lap.

“Are you okay?”

“No.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“Not really.”

“Okay.” Victoria lays a gentle hand on his arm. “Maybe later? While we’re in Spain?”

“Maybe.”

They do talk, in the end. On their second night in the city, they go out for dinner and drinks, relishing the chance to unwind after a day spent answering question after question from Annie and all her ancient mates at the care home. Old people are exhausting, honestly.

“So… ” Victoria says around a mouthful of fish, with a casual air that Robert knows is entirely put-on. “D’you feel like talking about Aaron now? About what happened? Because as much as I’m enjoying the surprise trip in the sun, I know I’m not the one who’s supposed to be sitting here right now.”

“Can’t I just take my baby sister on holiday?”

“You can, but you never have before. Come on, I know you booked these tickets for you and Aaron for your birthday, but for some reason it never happened. And I know you haven’t spoken to him since that phone call in the airport. Whatever’s going on… you know you can talk to me, right?”

Robert sighs, contemplates doing what comes naturally and lying to her, plastering a smile on his face and insisting that everything’s fine. But after weeks on end of giving everyone that smile until his jaw ached, he doesn’t have it in him anymore.

“It’s just… ” He hesitates, not really knowing where to start. Victoria leans forward encouragingly. “I’m not sure he actually want to be with me.”

“Rubbish,” she fires back instantly. “He’s as gone on you as you are on him.”

“I don’t think so, Vic.”

“Okay, what makes you say that?”

“The fact that he can’t seem to go more than a day or two without biting my head off or saying he wants nothin’ to do with me, for starters.”

“Is that what happened yesterday?”

“Pretty much. Said he wanted me out of his life.”

“Why, what did you do?”

“Nothing – for once,” he shoots her a rueful smile. “Just… I said something to Charity, he overheard and took it the wrong way, kicked me out before I had a chance to explain properly.”

“Well there you go, then,” Vic smiles. “A misunderstanding, that’s easily fixed. Once you explain, he’ll calm down and you’ll be fine.”

“Until the next time,” Robert mutters, stabbing at his food with his fork.

“What d’you mean?”

“That’s the point, Vic. I always have to explain, because he always thinks the worst of me and pushes me away, says I'll never change. Before that, it was the burnt letter fiasco, then it was him actually believing I’d paid someone to have Gordon killed in prison. And now this. Even on the phone the other day, he instantly assumed I’d gone off with someone else. He probably thinks I’m shagging some random right now, when I’ve told him how I feel about him. When he's the one who keeps shutting me out and cancelling every plan I try to make with him.”

Robert drops his cutlery down on the table as the words spill out of his mouth, increasing in speed before he can stop them.

“And before you say it, I know I was awful last year, alright? I get it, I’d understand if he didn’t trust me, if he wanted nothing to do with me anymore. But… he’s said that he does trust me, and he’s said he still wants me. Then he goes and treats like he thinks I’m scum, like I’m still that selfish person he used to hate, and then I think maybe he doesn’t really want this, not the way I do. I’ve been trying, I’ve been trying so hard, but I can’t seem to get anything right and I’m just – I’m just sick of it, okay?”

To his absolute horror, the backs of his eyes begin to sting with tears, and he blinks them away rapidly as Victoria stares at him open-mouthed, eyes wide with shock. He can’t say he blames her, he’s surprised himself. His gaze remains fixed on the dark red tablecloth, already feeling awkward about his sudden outburst.

“And he forgot your birthday,” she eventually says, offering him a small smile. A surprised chuckle bubbles out of him and he looks up.

“And he forgot my birthday. Which I know makes me sound like I’m about six but…”

“But it was your first one with him.” He nods. “And you wanted to get to spend it together in Barcelona and take him to meet Gran.” Another, smaller, nod, and he buries his face in his hands as his cheeks flush with embarrassment.

“Oh, Rob.” She pushes her plate aside and yanks on his arms until he drops his hands and meets her eyes. “You’re allowed to be upset, silly. I’d be gutted if I were in your position.”

“Doesn’t feel like I am, not with everything that’s happened… ”

“You and Aaron… it’s a big deal for you. He’s your first boyfriend.”

He rolls his eyes. “We’re not teenagers, Vic.”

“Robert,” she frowns at his deflection, not having it. “After everything you've been through this past year, coming out, how much you’ve changed, being with Aaron properly… this is a big deal. I’m proud of you, you muppet.”

He doesn’t really trust himself to speak, so instead he settles for squeezing their fingers together, hoping she understands. She does, if the warm look on her face is any indication.

“Adam actually told me he stuck up for you with Aaron a couple of weeks ago, y’know?”

“What?” Well, that definitely didn’t sound right. “When?”

“After you burnt that letter. Which, by the way, was a bit stupid, but I get that your heart was in the right place. I can’t blame you for not wanting to give it to him, and neither can Adam. He kept it from Aaron too, remember?”

Robert fiddles with his napkin, carefully folding the corners. “What’d he say, then?”

“Just told Aaron that you were only trying to protect him, trying to make sure he never had to hear from Gordon again, like he said he wanted.”

“Wow… who would’ve thought your husband would be on my side?”

“I know, I think Adam was as shocked as anyone. So you see?” Victoria raises her eyebrows. “You’re not a monster, Robert. You’ve changed, and people can see that. If Adam’s started coming around to you, Aaron definitely will have.”

“Don’t think has family ever will.”

“Well, there’s only so much you can do about that; you can’t kill yourself over trying getting people to like you. But last time I checked, Aaron’s an adult, he can make his own decisions. He usually does, too.”

Robert sighs and nods, mulling over her words. They resume eating their meals quietly for a few minutes.

“So… what d’you think I should do?”

“I’ll tell you what you’re not gonna do,” Vic points at him with her fork, waving around the potato on the end of it. “You’re not going to give up on this.”

“I don’t want to. But I don’t know how to… ” He shrugs helplessly.

“I think you just need to have a conversation with him. Tell him what you’ve told me.”

She tuts when Robert pulls a face.

“I know you don’t like talking about feelings – I swear, you’re both as bad as each other – but you have a right to know where you stand, Rob. Look, I know Aaron’s been through hell and there’s a lot going on right now with his sister an’ all… but you can’t stay stuck in this weird limbo. He’s either in this or he isn’t, he wants you or he doesn’t.”

“And… ” Robert chews his bottom lip, stomach churning unpleasantly. “If he says he doesn’t?”

“I mean, I very much doubt that. But if that does turn out to be the case then… ” Vic hesitates, before grinning. “We’ll just have to head into town and find you a nice new bloke, won’t we?”

Robert snorts, already recoiling at the very idea. “Like I’d ever let you take me out on the pull.”

“What, I’d make an excellent wing-woman!”

“God no, please stop.” They both giggle into their wine glasses, until Robert’s smile eventually dims. “I don’t want a nice new bloke. I want Aaron.”

“I know you do,” Victoria says softly. “That’s why you have to try. Just talk to him.”

“Yeah… you’re right.”

“What’s that, now?” The glee in her voice makes him groan. “Can I get that in writing, please?”

“Alright, calm down.”

Typically, their return flight is delayed, so they don’t arrive back in Emmerdale until the early hours of Monday morning. Robert’s so knackered, it’s all he can do to bid a brief goodnight to Victoria and collapse face-down on his bed.

After what feels like only seconds after he puts his head on the pillow, he’s jolted awake by the sound of loud banging. Cracking one eye open, he takes in the faint light coming from the window and realises that despite his exhaustion, he must’ve had a few hours of rest. The banging starts up again, and Robert’s sleep-addled brain manages to work out it's someone at the front door. He waits for the sound of Adam or Vic heading down the stairs, but there’s only silence.

Groaning, he rolls to his feet and throws on his dressing gown before stumbling to the front door and cracking it open, ready to tell whoever it is to kindly bugger off and let him go back to bed, only to be met with the sight of the last person he’d expected to see at this hour.

Aaron.

He stands before Robert, hands shoved in his pockets and gel-free hair blowing in the wind. He looks as amazing as ever, and Robert’s missed him so much it makes his breath catch for a second. He stands frozen, hand dropping from the door to hang at his side.

Aaron clears his throat. “Hiya.”

“Hi.”

“You’re back, then.” His voice is gruff and slightly hoarse, like he hasn’t had enough sleep.

“Er, yeah. Late last night.”

Aaron nods and there’s a long pause.

“You gonna invite me in or…?”

Robert steps aside to let him pass and follows him into the living room. They stand there awkwardly and Robert stays silent, waiting for Aaron to make the first move.

“Pub’s been quiet without you,” Aaron eventually offers. “Got used to you hangin' around every day.”

“Bet your mum’s not been complaining. Or Liv, for that matter.”

Aaron gives a small smile that looks more like a grimace, and Robert’s heart sinks slightly at the silent confirmation that he's right.

“I missed you, though.” He says it so quietly, Robert almost doesn’t catch it.

“I missed you, too."

Aaron’s mouth curls into another smile, a more genuine one this time, and he shuffles his feet.

“Adam told me that you were with Vic. That you were seein’ your gran, too.”

“Oh.” Robert’s mind flashes back to the last time they’d spoken, to Aaron’s furious words, and judging by the look on Aaron’s face now, his is too. “Right.”

“Sorry for havin’ a go at you on the phone. I should've – I’m an idiot.”

“S’fine.”

“I didn’t mean to – I just thought – ”

“Thought the worst of me, I know.”

Aaron looks stricken at that, and Robert instantly wants to take the words back. He doesn't, though, he can't bring himself to. Aaron's eyes fall away from his face, wandering uncomfortably around the living room. Just like that, Robert suddenly feels almost as distant from him now as he had in another country, and he hates it. Victoria’s insistent words from the other night echo in his ears.

Just talk to him.

“Aaron, I… ” Robert can hear footsteps above them, the telltale sounds of Adam and Victoria getting up to start their day. He really doesn’t fancy an audience for this. “D’you fancy goin’ for a walk?”

Aaron’s gaze snaps back to him, and he frowns. “A walk?”

“Yeah. Could do with some fresh air after my flight and… maybe we can have a chat?”

“A chat… ”

“You gonna repeat everythin’ I say?” Robert can’t resist giving him a teasing smile, and Aaron huffs a small laugh and shakes his head.

“A chat about what?”

“Just… stuff. You and me?”

Aaron hesitates, before nodding. “Yeah, okay. Might wanna get changed first, though?”

Robert suddenly remembers what he’s wearing, and he wraps his dressing gown around himself self-consciously as Aaron’s eyes crinkle in amusement.

“Uh, give me five minutes.”

Robert gets ready in record time, rapidly brushing his teeth while he pulls out a clean pair of jeans and a jumper. As he shoves his feet into a pair of shoes on the landing, Victoria opens her bedroom door and almost trips over him.

“Oh, mornin’,” she says around a wide yawn. “Did I hear Aaron downstairs?”

“Yeah, he’s waiting for me,” Robert answers, his voice hushed so he’s not overheard. “We’re going for a walk.”

“And?”

“And… I’ve asked if we can talk.”

Vic’s face brightens. “That’s great, Rob.”

“Unless he doesn’t like what I say and dumps me on the spot, of course.”

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous.” Vic waves a dismissive hand.

“Rob?” Aaron calls from downstairs. “We goin’ on this walk or not?”

“Coming!”

Victoria grins at him, smug in the way that only his annoying little sister can be. “I told you – smitten kittens, the pair of you.”

Robert chooses to ignore her in favour of jogging back down the stairs, meeting Aaron by the front door.

“Ready?”

“Been waitin’ for you, mate,” Aaron scoffs. “Let’s go.”

They leave the cottage and set off in the direction of the footbridge.

“So... ” Aaron glances at him tentatively. “What's up?”

Robert takes a deep breath, and starts talking.

#this one is... a little different for me #less domestic fluff and more angst #but with a hopeful ending obvs #i hope it's okay!#robron #my writing #flufftober2020

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ericsonclan · 4 years ago

Text

Rockabye

Summary: Clementine and Louis are out in the woods when they hear a baby cry.

Word Count: 2856

Read on AO3:

“Been a long time since it was just you and me out here,” Clementine noted, smiling over at her husband as they walked through the woods together.

“That it has,” Louis agreed, flashing her his signature smile. “You could almost call this a date: you and I alone together, the ambient noises of the forest providing the perfect backdrop for a romantic moment or two to be stolen before we head back,”

“I would hardly call checking traps a date… but it is nice,” Clementine reached out, her hand taking Louis’. The pair let their intertwined hands swing back and forth lazily as they strolled deeper into the woods. With Maisy and Lee Kenny still so young there was rarely time where they could afford to both go out for the day. But Willy and Allison had promised to keep an eye on the kids and she and Louis had both jumped at the chance. Clementine loved her kids with all her heart but having some breathing space from the chaos was a gift to be enjoyed, one so rarely received she almost didn’t know what to do with it.

“We should take the scenic route. A little tiptoe through the tulips perhaps?” Louis grinned playfully, causing his wife’s nose to wrinkle in amusement.

“Alright. Five minutes. Then we get back to work,”

“But of course,”

Before Clementine could protest, Louis had swept her off her feet and was striding off the beaten path to a nearby patch of wildflowers. “Louis!” she exclaimed before devolving into giggles. “Put me down!”

“And risk you stepping on one of the flowers? No, my darling Clementine, leave it to me to safely navigate us to our final destination,”

“And where might that be?”

“That, my dear, is a secret,”

Clementine rolled her eyes but smiled nonetheless. Leave it to Louis to still come up with little adventures even after all this time. Nearly ten years together and she was just as smitten as the day they’d first crossed paths. After a few steps further, Louis placed his wife down upon a fallen log that lay near the wildflowers. Sitting down beside her, he took her hand once more. Clementine rested her head upon Louis’ shoulder, nuzzling it gently. “This is nice,”

“Best five minutes I’ve had in a long time,”

They were silent for a moment, enjoying the stillness and peace of the forest around them. There hadn’t been as many walkers around this past month, likely because most of them had gone with a large herd that had swept through the area a few weeks back. Clementine had never been more thankful to be surrounded by brick walls than when she saw the size of the herd as it slowly passed by. It had been somewhat difficult to stay behind those walls as the woods cleared out, but the time spent in lockdown had shown all of them how truly self-sufficient the school had become. Still, Clementine hoped they wouldn’t have to face anything like that again for a long time to come.

“Hold still for a sec,” Louis’ hand reached out toward her face, pausing at the corner of her eye before drawing back. On his index finger lay a single eyelash. “Go on, make a wish,”

“What?”

“Make a wish then close your eyes and blow the eyelash off my finger. Trust me, it’s a thing,”

Clementine considered her wish carefully. What did she want that she didn’t have? For years growing up on the road all she would have wished for was a home and now she had that. Not just a home, but a family that she could never have even dared to imagine. Truth be told, she didn’t really wany anything more. She just wanted things to stay the same. With that thought in mind, Clementine closed her eyes and blew away the eyelash.

The sound of a baby’s cry carried through the forest. The sound immediately tore through Clementine’s heart. Her eyes shot up to meet Louis’. They were both thinking the same thing: the children. Sprinting toward the source of the sound, both ran with all their might, their minds frantic at the possibilities of what could have happened.

The cries were coming from the opposite direction of the school. It made no sense but there was no time to try to sort through how this had happened. Clementine almost tripped, causing Louis to pause to help her. “No! Go!” Clementine screamed. Louis looked torn for a moment then ran ahead, Clementine following behind as she struggled to match his pace.

Moments later they broke out into a clearing, the sounds louder than ever. Clementine’s eyes scanned her surroundings, searching for Maisy or Lee Kenny. Neither were there. Zachariah and Savannah were nowhere to be found either. She looked to Louis, but he appeared just as lost as she was. They ran through the clearing, still searching in a panic, but there was no child to be seen. Clementine paused for a second, trying to refocus her senses to hone in on the direction the screams were coming from. There, just across from them! Grabbing Louis’ hand, Clementine ran toward the cries.

They froze as they drew near. There at the base of a large tree were at least a dozen walkers all with heads and arms lifted toward the source of the crying: a basket that dangled from one of the lower tree branches.

“It’s not one of the kids,” Clementine whispered, eyes large in disbelief.

“No,” Louis shook his head. “It’s a baby,”

“Who the fuck leaves a baby in a tree?”

“Someone desperate? Either way,” Louis drew out Chairles, “We have to act now. If they haven’t returned at the sound of its cries, they may not be coming back at all,”

Clementine nodded. Drawing the compound bow, she aimed at the nearest walker. “As soon as I hit one, the rest will see us,”

“I’ll make some noise, draw a few of them off to the side,”

“It’s a risk. If there are more getting drawn in by the baby’s cries…”

“We can do this,” Louis gave his wife a look of determination. “We have to,”

He was right. “I’ll take the first one,” Making sure her aim was true, Clementine let out a centering breath before letting the arrow fly. It shot through the air and struck its target, braining a walker before it even knew what hit it. The corpse dropped to the ground, the sound temporarily drawing the attention of the other walkers away from the baby.

“Hey!” Louis shouted, walking away from his wife to get some of the heat off of her. “Over here, deadheads! Come at me!”

The walkers eagerly gave chase, their withered legs moving as quickly as they could. Drawing another arrow, Clementine shot another one. Her aim was a bit off though. Instead of going through the brain it knocked off the walker’s jaw, already dangling by a thread of sinew. Swearing under her breath, Clementine drew again. But this time there was another walker that was nearer with one more right behind it. With barely any distance between them Clementine shot an arrow directly between its eyes before drawing her knife to face the other.

“You’re doing great, sweetie!” Louis called over before swinging out to bash in a walker’s skull. The one that Clementine had de-jawed was now making its way over to him at the sound of his voice. “Oh, you want some more pain?” Louis quipped. Swinging upwards, he hit its head so hard that the neck snapped. The walker’s head flopped over to the side, still connected to the body but dangling as uselessly as its jaw had been. With the walker posing no more immediate threat, Louis kicked it backwards, sending it tumbling into the next two walkers behind it. Striding forward, Louis brained the collapsed walkers one after another.

The baby’s cries had picked up again, its wails more like screams. The sound was drawing the walkers back and from what Clementine could hear in the forest surrounding them there were more walkers nearby. Stabbing the walker she’d been grappling with through the eye, she dug in deep, twisting the knife to pierce the brain. The walker’s milky eye burst on contact with her blade, dribbling down the hilt of her knife and onto her hand. The walker collapsed as its brain ceased to function and Clementine quickly flicked the eye and brain matter from her knife before sheathing it and redrawing her bow.

Seeing his wife was aiming for the walker nearest the basket on the left, Louis headed right. Drawing back Chairles once more, he slammed it against the side of the nearest walker’s skull from behind before backstepping quickly. He needed to spread out the remaining walkers if he was going to be able to take them out without getting bit. A walker crumpled to the ground by the tree, an arrow embedded in the back of its skull. That was another one down. Four to go. Unless… Louis glanced backwards. A pair of walkers were approaching them from behind. Those needed to be dealt with before they got the jump on them. “Clem! We got some stragglers. You good with me stepping away for a sec?”

Clementine nodded. “Go!” She could see Louis running behind her out of the corner of her eye before she refocused on her next target. A particularly tall walker looked like it actually might have a chance at reaching the baby. Its outstretched hand brushed against the base of the basket, causing it to sway back and forth. “You get the fuck away,” Clementine growled. Her next arrow struck right on target, going through the walker’s brain and embedding itself in the tree. The walker’s corpse slouched lifeless, held upright by the very arrow that had killed it. Three more to go. Behind her, Clementine could hear Louis struggling. “Need help?”

“Nah, save your arrows! These two are just being extra cranky! Isn’t that right, fellas?” Louis looked up at the pair he was facing. He’d gotten a few hits in, but one had missed and knocked an arm off instead while the others hadn’t been enough to take down the nearer walker. “You, sir, have a remarkably thick skull. I wonder if that made it hard for your teachers when you were in school. It’s certainly an inconvenience for me,” Drawing close, Louis decided to take an alternate approach. Jamming Chairles into the walker’s mouth, he used the leverage to push the creature backwards. Kicking out the other’s knee to buy himself time, Louis walked forward, forcing the walker to stumble backwards till its back hit a tree. Perfect.

Chairles was lodged firmly in the walker’s mouth, so when Louis drew his weapon back the walker came with it. “Nice try, buddy, but no cigar for you,” Thrusting forward, Louis bashed the walker’s head against the tree before forcing it forward once more to prepare for another hit. The tree grew red with the walker’s blood before finally Chairles burst through the back of its skull, killing it instantly. Louis grinned proudly at his work before realizing his mistake. This walker was dead, but Chairles was now wedged inside its skull and there was another walker mere steps away. “Clem! A little help?”

Clementine spun round to see a walker about to grab her husband. “Louis!” The walker was inches away from her husband who was desperately trying to rip his weapon out of the dead walker’s skull. There was no time to think. Drawing her bow, Clementine immediately shot it, praying her aim was true. Before she could know, a grisly hand pulled her backwards. She’d let one sneak up on her. With a frantic cry, Clementine thrust her knife behind her, hearing a loud crunch as knife scraped bone then embedded in flesh. There was the warm feeling of blood spilling upon her shoulder before the dead walker collapsed, taking Clementine down with it and pinning her beneath its weight. Clementine groaned, her breaths labored as she struggled to get out before another walker reached her.

“Clem!” Louis was at her side in seconds. Her aim had been true after all. Grabbing his wife’s hand, Louis tried to pull her out from beneath the walker. But there were more pressing problems. A walker was approaching his pinned wife and looked intent on biting her exposed ankle. “Think again, fucker!” Louis yelled, leaping forward and swinging with all his might. The blow tore off the top of the walker’s skull. Its hair fluttered back and forth on the piece of bone dangling off the side of its head. That opening was all he needed. Sending Chairles crashing down from above, Louis obliterated the offensive creature. He then spun round to check on his wife. “Clem, are you-”

“I’m alright! Just help me get the rest of the way out!” Clementine grunted with effort, struggling to free her trapped prosthetic from under the corpse. Louis rushed over, lifting the walker just enough to let Clementine slip the rest of the way out before letting it fall once more to the ground. The couple smiled at each other before glancing over to the tree where the basket dangled. Only one walker was left, reaching for the basket in dazed desperation.

“Do you want the honors, my darling?”

“Nothing would please me more,” Withdrawing her knife one last time, Clementine snuck up behind the walker and thrust the knife deep within its skull. The walker went still and she tossed it to the side, finally breathing a sigh of relief. “We actually did it,”

“That we did,” Louis smiled proudly at his wife, stepping forward to join her. Both looked up at the basket. The baby was still crying, louder than ever. They didn’t have much time before all of this would be for naught and more walkers would come wandering in. The pair shared a look. Louis dropped to his knees. “Hop up on my shoulders. I think that’s our best bet to get the basket down safely,”

Clementine nodded and climbed on, gasping slightly as her husband got back to his feet.

“You good?”

“Yeah. Take a step to your right. One more…there,” Clementine looked down into the basket for the first time. The baby couldn’t be more than a few months old. It was dressed in a ratty, oversized t-shirt and wrapped in a blanket. Its dark skin was hot to the touch, from the heat or its prolonged screams Clementine couldn’t tell. She tried to calm it for a moment before realizing that was futile until they had it safely down. Holding the sides of the basket, she looked down at Louis. “Step back slowly. We’ll have to go bit by bit till we get it off this branch,”

Louis nodded and followed suit. Inch by inch they guided the basket off the branch as the baby wailed and writhed within it. The forest seemed quiet, but they knew that could change at any second. Clementine gripped the basket tightly, adjusting and tilting it slightly to get past the bumps and grooves of the branch. Finally after what seemed like a lifetime she pulled the basket the last few inches and it was free, the weight of the basket and baby shifting to Clementine’s arms. She held it close to her chest, smiling softly down at the baby as she shifted her grip to the handle. “Gonna hand the basket down to you then hop off your back. OK, Lou?”

Louis’ hands rose to receive it. “Gotcha,”

Once she was sure the basket had been safely transferred over, Clementine slipped down from her husband’s back. She circled round to look at the crying baby Louis now held in his arms. The baby was still wailing, clearly too overwhelmed to be comforted simply through cuddles. She needed food, water, maybe medicine. “We have to get her back to the school. Then we can head back out in search of any parents or guardians she might have,”

“Look,” Louis tugged on the corner of the blanket the baby was wrapped in. On it was sewn a single word in messy, tangled thread – a name. Juliet. “Think that’s her name?”

“Maybe,” Clementine pressed the back of her hand to the baby’s forehead. Her temperature was troubling. “You carry her. I’ll cover you with the bow,”

“Alright,”

“Just give me a minute to grab the arrows,” Walking round the corpses, Clementine retrieved her spent arrows. She wondered if the person who’d left Juliet was still nearby. Did they want her? They’d left her somewhere safe, but they hadn’t come when she cried. So were they dead or simply gone? Answers would have to come later. For now their priority had to be Juliet. Rejoining her husband, Clementine notched an arrow, bow at the ready. “Let’s go,” The pair headed out side by side, the baby still sobbing against Louis’ chest. One thing was certain: they would keep Juliet safe. No matter what.

#twdg #twdg louis #twdg clementine #clouis #twdg juliet #fanfic

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long-bodyswap · 5 years ago

Text

Yotta Life

(Im sorry I don’t have the credits, but if you know the author you can @)

It’s been an adjustment lately getting used to all this fame and attention since Adele’s new album came out. The whole world knew it would be huge, but even the most optimistic among us couldn’t have imagined that it would have the best selling first week sales of any album in history! With massive, iconic numbers like that, it was only natural that she would need more security while she goes on her whirlwind press promo, and I’m the best in the business- ermmm- I mean technically my host, Peter Van der Veen is the best in the business, but it’s not like anyone could tell the difference since the spell I used gave me access to all of his memories, training, and personality traits. No one has suspected a thing, and I’ve been inside Peter since he was Lady Gaga’s bodyguard!Possessing the top bodyguard for the stars has been a dream come true because I’ve met and spent time with almost all of my idols. Gaga is much more normal in private than people give her credit for, but my favorite client so far has been Adele, BY FAR. Never have I ever met such a witty, sweet, funny as shit, monumentally talented, and down to earth person. Rumor has it she used to be quite the drinker before she had her baby, but every now and then she’s whipped out a little reward for the road with her team, meaning I was naturally drawn into the fun. IIt’s been simply remarkable getting to know Adele and honestly consider her a friend. She’s so honest and personable that I catch myself shifting out of Peter’s stern persona, dropping sass and giggling to her jokes. I remind myself often that it’s only acceptable around Adele, but anyone who had previously known Peter would be immensely suspicious. Still, it’s been the single most meaningful (and lucrative) gig I’ve ever done. You can see that I try my hardest to remain stern and serious. It’s so hard because even her commentary during casual conversation is adorable and hilarious enough to make a stone gargoyle let out a good chuckle. Sometimes it honestly is too much and I can’t help but smile and join in the silliness. It’s comforting at least to know that Peter’s smile looks so fucking sexy- almost as sexy as his stern smolder.

The bulk of the promo circuit ended in December so now that it’s January 2016, I finally have some time to myself. Adele thanked me profusely for my service and friendship and begged me to free up my schedule so I could join her when her tour starts in April. I promised her I’d lock in the dates, but it’s going to be nice to have some time to have fun behind closed doors…At the very least it’ll be nice to show off this body.Fuck, what a great day. I’m rocking this perfect bronze and I can finally show off this sculpted body. I work ridiculously hard to keep it up to Peter’s standards, but it’s so worth it. Peter’s body looks sexy as hell in a suit, but it was meant to be seen and envied by others. And the Adele gig was so lucrative that I’m set to be enjoying the next four months shirtless and glistening at this Mexican resort. I used this morning to do a power workout of sprints and chest interval training in a nearby canyon, and then I rewarded myself with a nice afternoon spent relaxing at the beach.Peter’s sore muscles always made me horny for some reason, which meant that I was on edge almost all day every day…I didn’t mind though. It reminded me of how powerful and full of my vitality my host was. What I did mind though was burning in this hot sun. Noticing a cute boy eyeing me, I saw an opportunity to kill two birds with one stone. The adorable fucker looked about my real age, but way better looking, not that that mattered since I was inhabiting Mr. Europe 2005. Being bisexual, I’ve been able to use Peter’s body to anonymously fuck around with hotties from all over the world, but I’ve gotta say I’ve developed a strong preference for boys, so let’s test the waters and see if this kid wants a taste of the premier bodyguard to the stars.“Hey, kid.” I said in a deep, yet friendly tone. “You got a sec to help me out with something?” I made sure to flash him a subtle smile, also pulling my shades down so he could see the twinkle in my beautiful eyes. It only took me a second to realize I had him hook, line, and sinker.That big smile was one thing, but I had also completely stopped him in his tracks. He was walking back over to me without a single hesitation. “What can I do for you?” The chap asked with a friendly tone that was masking what I, after maaaanyy similar encounters, knew was lust.“You see, I’m going to start burning soon, so could you help me with a fresh layer of sunblock?”He kept his jaw from dropping, but I knew he was shocked and ecstatic. “You mean, on your back?” He asked, treading cautiously.“Actually, I was hoping you could help me with the whole thing,” I said, pointing out my sculpted chest and abs before biting my lip in a fake show of nervous anticipation.

The boy paused to think for a second before smiling again and walking over. “Sure, I’d love to help out,” he said in a way that tried to make it sound like he was just doing a normal favor for a stranger.

I grinned in relief before putting my shades back on and getting out my tube of sunblock. I laid down, making sure to get comfortable before I took a second to adjust my junk since I was about a quarter hard from the sheer testosterone pumping through my veins.

“Sorry about that,” I said before getting relaxed again. “Had a brutal workout this morning. Always gets the testosterone flowing, if you know what I mean.”“I could tell you had a good workout this morning. You’ve got the pumped look. Maybe you can share some workout tips- I’m trying to bulk up, but it’s been kinda hard.”“Son, you don’t need to add a single pound of mass. The lean look is really sexy on you.” I said that right as he popped the cap open, making him blush before he squeezed a healthy helping of that cream into his hands.

“That’s easy for you to say,” he said before slathering that cream on my abs. I shivered and gasped from the cold, tightening my core from the surprise, but he kept talking. “Especially when you have a body like this.”As far as I could tell, he had no idea who I was, so it was safe to see if I could push his buttons a little.As he spread the cream over Peter’s ripped abs, I quietly moaned from the feeling of those smooth fingers rubbing that coconut scented goodness into my stolen skin. The look on this boy’s face was one of inner conflict. He didn’t know if he should go a little further, but he finally got my subtle hint and began rubbing me more purposefully until he was giving my abs a slow and deep massage.

“You have…so much definition,” he marveled as he worked his strong fingers more and more expertly. “mmmmmmm that feels so good, kid. Guess you could tell that yesterday was ab day,” By this point his constant touch had me more than half hard. He definitely noticed my long and thick cock growing in my shorts, but he didn’t back away. He started massaging me even more purposefully, sensually even. Damn, this kid had some kink in him.

“And I’d bet money you did a chest day today,” he said slowly and smoothly as he began working his magical hands up to my muscular slabs of pec perfection. I moaned louder this time as he worked his hands up to my chest so he was grabbing a pec with each hand, squeezing firmly enough to loosen up those stiff muscles. He squeezed harder, massaging my sore chest and making me groan in a mix of ecstasy and agony. I was shocked though as he, without stopping his deep tissue chest massage, began to gently flick and rub my nipples with his thumbs. I inhaled deeply, feeling my cock twitch and continue to engorge as this boy worked Peter’s incredibly sensitive nipples. My breathing picked up, getting slightly faster before this kid made his big move. I gasped loudly as he leaned down and began sucking on one of my nipples before reaching the other hand down to rub my cock through my shorts, making it pulsate and swell to full hardness.

“Unnnngggg,” I groaned as I looked down at this cutie with thick, bushy eyebrows give in to his hunger for cock, specifically my cock. I gasped again as he gripped my cock through the shorts, feeling the thickness of my girth and the obvious length before smiling, apparently satisfied with Peter’s thick 8.5 inches. “If you wanted me, you should have just said so,” he whispered seductively into my ear.

I knocked the big tube of sunscreen onto the sand before grabbing him and pulling him on top of my powerful chest, enjoying the weight of his body against my greased up chest. I brought my mouth to his and he eagerly opened as I locked our lips and brought our tongues into a dance of lust. Fuck, he tasted so minty. My rock hard cock pulsated as I humped my crotch up against his, feeling his hard dick rub back against mine as I let us get lost in the lust. FInally breaking the kiss, I told him, “I have a room,” barely having the breath to make the sentence. He just smiled before we made a mad dash to pick up our shit and cover our raging hard ons as we ran back to the hotel. I woke up the next morning alone int he bed except for a little note that had a phone number and the name Zac. Man, last night was crazy. I mean, I’ve done some kinky shit with Peter’s body, but I think I blew four of Peter’s loads into that boy last night. Yeah, there was the load when I was fucking him doggy style. Then another when I was fucking him missionary. The third one was when he was riding me. mmmmm, the last one was my favorite. I pinned that kid against the wall with my strong arms and bounced him up and down off my powerful thrusts until I finally blew that last load so deep inside him. On that one things got so intense. Zac was hollering and almost hyperventilating my cock made him feel so good. He didn’t even touch his dick that time since he was scratching at the wall the whole time, but his cock still blew a load all over the two of us. That was about when I hit my limit. I remember roaring so loud I thought the walls were vibrating before finally, dripping in sweat and muscles and veins bulging all over my body, I blew all of the remaining cum in Peter’s balls so deep into that boy. When I calmed down, I carried the boy back to the bed and we both laid there making out and squirming from the afterglow of our orgasms before passing out from our multi-hour fuckfest.

I smirked as I thought to myself how this would be my life for the next four months. I got up and walked over to mirror, admiring my boxer-clad vessel, still just as high off of the beauty of this stolen body as I was two years ago when I first took Peter over.

“You’re one sexy man,” I said to the reflection before winking. God damn, seeing Peter’s body respond to my actions was still so satisfying. I felt a fluttery sensation deep in my gut before blushing from the sight of the sexy body in front of me. Mmmmmm yeah, Peter might be a strong and tough man, but I can always make him do whatever I want because he’s powerless with me inside.

“Don’t ever forget that you’re too weak to resist me. You couldn’t do a thing to stop my soul from slipping inside you and stealing you,” I taunted his reflection as I leaned his head down to his pit and huffed in his manly sweat and stench from yesterday’s workout and fuckfest.

“You smell like a real man,” I said with appreciation before I stripped off the boxers and brought them up to my face which instantly scrunched up into one of ecstasy, huffing in the crotch area, almost coughing from the power of the manly muskiness. It was so fucking masculine and sexy, and it always got me hard.“That turns you on doesn’t it, you kinky queer?” I asked his reflection before I brought my lips to the mirror and pretended to make out with Peter. My heart sank though as the cold glass reminded me that I was on the other side. Sure, I could take over some other stud for a night and use my powers to mind control Peter into having a wild night of passion, but it takes me a lot of time to build up the energy to switch, so I only like to switch sparingly. I need at least three months to build up the necessary energy, so I don’t use the gift for casual flings. No. It’s a commitment, so the stolen life has to be perfect. I stayed in Peter for the last two years because life has been so perfect, but it would be nice to finally feel and taste his body from the other side…Still, I’d need to find the perfect body and life in the next week or two in order to have enough time to get back inside Peter in time for Adele’s tour. I guess I’ll just have to wait until after the tour…My frustration built, and I decided to take it out on Peter. Even though I knew he was blacked out, I liked to pretend he was aware of everything when I got mad. Grabbing his semi-hard cock, I pumped it until I got it back up to full hardness, watching myself make angry, yet sexy and turned on faces in the mirror as I pumped myself mercilessly.

“Yeah! You like that you queer slut?! I’m gonna make you eat every drop of this cum! unnnnngggggggg it’s gonna taste so fucking good, you fag! Who’s the tough guy now, you freaky fag? Can’t believe a tough guy like you is gonna eat your own load like some queer cum whore!” God, this always made me feel so turned on and so much better. I was getting close to orgasm when the phone rang. I instantly clicked ignore, but it started ringing again. I growled as I clicked ignore a second time, but the damn phone rang a third time. Cursing, I let go of Peter’s cock and switched to his professional voice as I answered the phone.

Even though I was initially annoyed, I was so glad I picked up the phone. Smiling from ear to ear, I listened to a very special new client ask for my services over the next three and a half months. Apparently he needed extra security for his wife, so tomorrow I would be on an early morning flight to Beverly Hills. My vacation wasn’t over, it was just moving to another locale…and I’d finally have the chance to taste Peter’s lips and mouth from another perspective.Fuck, I was so excited I went back to pumping Peter’s cock. I ate his load, this time to celebrate! Now it’s time for me to get cleaned up, buy tickets, and pack!It was so lucky to get that call from Bastian Gillmeier, or Bastian Yotta as the media and instagram know him. couldn’t help but enjoy one more early morning walk in Peter’s body, happily flaunting his muscles as I left shirtless and enjoyed the feeling of the breeze on his skin. But then I checked his watched and realized how late I was.

“Shit! Better get back and shower. Gotta get to the airport. Damn, I won’t even have time to yank out one last load!” I quickly cleaned up and called for a cab, and before I knew it I had checked in and boarded my plane en route to Beverly Hills. Still, I was frustrated by this libido and the desire, no, the NEED to feel Peter’s cock be relieved one last time. It was one of those rare flights where it was barely at half capacity, and somehow I was the only one in the first class section. This airline was my favorite too because instead of thin curtains separating first class from economy, there were actual doors, affording me a much greater sense of privacy. Still, I didn’t feel comfortable pumping a load out with that cute flight attendant around. With me being the only client, he was checking on me practically every ten minutes, and I wanted to make this last. I thought about going in the lavatory, but there was something so nasty and classless about that. No. I guess I’d need to test the sensibilities of this handsome flight attendant. Maybe he could even help me out.

I looked behind me and predictably saw him waiting there with a puppy like grin, waiting to please me. “Would you like another drink, sir?”I flashed him an enticing grin as I thought pensively. “That does sound refreshing,” I remark as I subtly relax in my seat, getting more comfortable and spreading my legs just a little. “Another barcardi and coke?”“I don’t know. I’m craving something a little different. I’m just so on edge. I could really use something to help me unwind,” I say breathy as I rub my hands in between my thighs and groan lightly. This boy gulps loudly, nervously adjusting his tie. “W-w-well…We have mojitos.”“No…that’s not what I want…” I say with a husky tone as I look him directly in his eyes, licking my lips while I rub my host’s crotch, groaning slightly more loudly as I feel this meat starting to get hard and strain within the confines of its denim prison.

“Sir! This is inappropriate! I’m going to need to ask you to-”“Shut up and touch it. I know you want to. Your cock can’t lie to me. “SIR. If you don’t stop I’m going to have to-HUH?!” he gasped as I grabbed a hold of his arm and yanked him close to me.He was speechless from the shock as I pulled him onto my lap, keeping him firmly locked in my grip thanks to Peter’s strong muscles as I went to work grinding my tented crotch against his backside and reaching my hand around to begin rubbing his engorging cock. “MMMMmmmmmmpppphhhhhhhhhhmmmmmnnngggggggg” he groaned through Peter’s big hand that was muffling his shouts.

He squealed as I grabbed a firm hold around his rod, stroking and pumping him through his soft uniform pants, breathing hot on his neck as I whispered into his ear. “You’re getting so horny, boy. I can feel you getting hard in my hand. mmmmmm a tasty boy like you is just the refreshment I needed.” I followed by licking up and down his neck, making him gasp as shivers coursed their way up and down his spine. “You liked that didn’t you?” I asked with a chuckle before experimenting and easing up my grip on his mouth.

He took several deep breaths before slowly turning his head to face me. It could have gone either way at this point as I saw the panic and indecision in his eyes. But then the look in his eyes focused in and I knew he has made his decision.

He lunged as he joined his mouth with mine, moaning loudly into my mouth as he wrestled his tongue past my lips and hungrily tasted me. I needed to remind him who the big man was in this steamy moment, so I forced Peter’s tongue into this boy’s mouth, reveling in the pleasurable moans echoing into my mouth as I ferociously tasted my mile high slut. Pulling back, he now had a look of hunger in his eyes. “I-I’ve never done this before at work…”“It’s just the two of us in here. No need to worry about anything.”He looked into my eyes briefly before biting his lip nervously.“Can I…taste it?” He asked with such anticipation in his eyes. I just smirked at him. “You think I’d say no to a hot mouth like yours? Get to work, boy.”I closed my eyes, smiling with satisfaction as this boy crawled down onto his knees, no longer able to suppress his desire as he unbuttoned my jeans and pulled down the zipper. I lifted my butt up to help him as he pulled down my pants and drawers, letting this big fat cock spring out, slapping him lightly in the face as he gawked at my host’s unveiled meat.

I shivered as he immediately went to work, grabbing me with one of his hands, pumping me softly as he wrapped his lips around the head, getting it nice and moist as he swirled his tongue around. My fingers were trembling, and the sensation crashing through my cockhead, down to my groin and down my thighs was so powerful that I had to bite my lip and focus on gripping the armrests just to keep from shouting out. This boy knew what he was doing, and he had just barely gotten started.

I felt the veins on Peter’s muscles expand, letting an intense surge of blood-flow crash through every part of his body. It was a euphoria like no other, and it only intensified as this mile high slut began bobbing his slick mouth up and down, up and down, picking up speed as he kept sucking that meat and swirling his tongue over all of Peter’s most sensitive spots. I cringed and scrunched my face it felt so fucking good, but I didn’t want to make too much noise. At this point though I think he was almost challenging me to give in and admit how good it felt. He finally had his wish as he all of a sudden jolted his head down, swallowing every inch of my meat as he scooped both hands up my shirt and found my sensitive nipples.

My eyes shot wide open as he began deepthroating me with ferocious speed, all while squeezing, twisting, and rubbing all over my massive pecs, and particularly, my tight and hard nipples. My back arched violently as a loud groan finally escaped my lips. I bit my lip though to shut myself up, scrunching my face up again and hyperventilating as this boy kept swallowing my entire length.

I couldn’t have hoped for a better last orgasm in Peter’s body, but I still wanted it to be at least partially on my own terms. Growling as I felt the testosterone levels in Peter’s body rising, I grabbed the boy’s head with both of my hand’s, getting no resistance from him as I began to pull him down onto my cock, harder and even faster than he was already going. Mmmmmmm it felt so satisfying as I used Peter’s strong arms to pull that mouth and tight throat down onto his juicy meat. Such a good throat fuck, but I couldn’t hold my hips back anymore, so it got even more intense. I know I might have been going rough on the boy, but he wasn’t complaining as I started bucking my hips up, thrusting into his mouth and thrusting powerfully down his throat. The boy kept squeezing my pecs and nipples, getting more intense as I added more and more power to my throat fuck. My toes were curling in my shoes as I looked down at this hungry mile high slut, and seeing the desperation in his eyes finally sent me over the edge. Groaning loudly, I slammed his mouth down onto one last powerful cock thrust after what had seemed like an eternity of building pressure in Peter’s massive balls. With that thrust, my pent up load was finally free, releasing stream after stream directly down the hungry throat that was so expertly milking my cock. I shivered as kept yanking his throat down onto each new ribbon of cum, milking out over a dozen shots before the stream finally slowed to mere droplets which we sucked straight out of me with that skilled mouth.

Attention Passengers, Please prepare for landing. We will be arriving in approximately five minutes.

“Damn, sorry boy. I guess I don’t have time to return the favor.”He just smiled adoringly at me though. “No, don’t be sorry. That was-That was amazing! I’ll be thinking about you and this later tonight. This will be on my mind for the next month at the very least!”He gave me one more passionate kiss before he straightened his tie and uniform, giving me a sexy wink as he made the landing preparations, leaving me in my golden orgasmic bliss. He was kind enough to point to my ankles though, reminding me my pants and boxers were still down, leaving my softening meat out for the world to see. I quickly pulled my pants back up as we began the descent.

I hopped in the cab at the airport, unable to contain my grin as I gave the driver the address of Bastian’s Beverly Hills mansion. The cab driver wasn’t particularly talkative, so I sat in eager silence as I mentally prepared for my transfer and mini vacation from Peter’s body.

The passing vistas and palm trees zoom by as I absentmindedly reach my hands underneath my shirt and begin rubbing and feeling Peter’s body. I know I’ll be feeling this body from the other side, but I’ll miss the feeling of ownership and possession. Something about feeling Peter Van der Veen’s abs and squeezing those massive pecs with his own strong hands was immensely satisfying. Taking over strong men and making them my hosts…my vessels…will always be my drug of choice.

“We’re here, Mister,” the taxi driver says, looking at me with an odd expression as I realize I’m still circling Peter’s hard nipples. I swoop my hands out from under Peter’s shirt, unable to help but go a little red in the face as I awkwardly thank and pay the guy. I pull out Peter’s wallet, so comfortable now seeing his ID and associating that image and identity as my own. That’s when you know you’ve found a keeper, when you look at your host’s ID and instinctively think, “Damn, I look hella fine.”

I tipped the guy well to mask the awkwardness and walked over to the front door, suitcases in tow. There was a note on the front door telling me to come on in and meet my new employers in the back. The note said to just keep on following the central corridor until I reached them. Opening the door, I was blown away by the extravagance of this massive and modern mansion.

“What a great place to vacation,” I said aloud to myself in shock as I plopped my bags on the marble floor, closed the door, and began the long walk down the central hallway. I passed by massive living and entertaining rooms, all decked out with expensive art, impeccable decoration, and state of the art technology. The kitchen and dining room was as large as most people’s whole apartments, and I think I walked passed a whole new set of entertainment and party/recreational rooms. It was simply unbelievable, but I got pulled back to reality as I heard light moaning emanating from the last room at the end of the hall.

The moaning was definitely deep, low, and masculine. Judging by the videos I had watched during my research, I knew it was Bastian who was cooing and making those sweet sounds of pleasure. I could hear him faintly egging on what I can only assume was his wife, Maria. That accent was still distinctly German, and thought some people thought it was a little harsh, I shivered from its foreign and exotic appeal. I had never taken over a foreigner before, so I wondered if I would have the joy of speaking with such a German flare. I kept walking cautiously towards the moans, concerned that I was going to interrupt a particularly private and intimate moment. Still, I advanced. That’s one of the great things about Peter’s body. I’m this massive tank of toned muscle, but he is so light on his feet. I barely make a sound as I walk right up to the cracked door and slowly push it open as I walk inside.

“Huh?” I asked aloud as I creaked the door open and saw Bastian, shirtless and laying down on a medical table as his wife performed a spa facial. She was dressed and made up to the nth degree with her pink mini dress, pumps, and full make up while she massaged her husband’s face, working the active ingredients deep into his skin that would help maintain his youth. He clearly found the experience very pleasurable as the sounds coming out of his mouth were almost orgasmic.

“That must be you, Peter,” he said in his sweet German accent and without even opening his eyes.

“We’re just finishing the last step,” Maria said with a smile as she spread the remaining moisture serum down his neck before clicking a button that brought the reclined medical table back up to a chair-like angle.

Bastian finally opened his eyes as he smiled at me, happy to see that he had been able to afford my services. My host was, after all, the most sought out bodyguard in Hollywood.

“Maria, can you give us some time? I need to show him the house and talk about the next three months. Here’s some cash–go buy something pretty,” he said as he casually handed her a thick strap of hundred dollar bills. She was almost giddy with joy as she collected the multi-thousand dollar wad of cash and left to go shop to her heart’s content at her favorite designer stores. “Now, that frees up some time for just us guys,” he said with a cheeky grin as he got up off the table and put his shirt back on.

This was going too perfectly. I tried to suppress my own giddy grin as he began to show me around the house, when like he said, it was just us guys.

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makoto-nanami · 5 years ago

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Miraculous Rewrite: Origins Part 1 (Chapter 1)

Hi, this will be my first Miraculous fan fiction, while I love the show, I most definitely have my gripes with it, how they treat their characters is something that infuriates me, and while this fic may get salty sometimes, I do love the characters, it’s just because of the status quo that the writers are instant on maintaining, they can’t grow or act sometimes completely out of character. So I’ve decided to have a try at writing a fic with my own OC in, to act as the voice of reason when Marinette starts going overboard/borderline cringy or when Adrien is a innocent baby who doesn't understand the world or when he thinks it’s okay to have a tantrum or flirt with ladybug. I’ll be following the episodes, so they won’t be too different, just told from a different perspective. Again I apologise in later chapters if I seem too have ingested a ton of salt, but know if I salt on a character I plan to resolve it at the end of the episode. I hope you enjoy!

- Also, if anyone could suggest which tags this needs because I blanked when I tagged this... (-_-’)

Origins Part 1 - Chapter 1

Many millennia ago, concepts of life were born, however, these beings realised they had too much power, a power that could easily be abused. So, they gathered to a kind human who had chosen to live in isolation from the rest of his kind and protect the world when needed, a bestowed their blessings in hopes that the human would help them. The human was confused by the seemingly god-like beings’ request, how could they trust a lowly human such as himself, a coward who turned his back on the rest of the world after witnessing the corruption such power brought to his brethren? These gods simple smiled upon this man and said you are no hero, you are no villain, you are simply an observer, a helper, someone who despite his hate to the world, chose to protect it in its time of need.

So, the man heeded their call, creating magic jewels embedding them with extraordinary blessings from these gods, the Kwami, binding them to the jewels restricting their powers. These were… the Miraculous.

Throughout history, heroes have used these jewels for the good of humanity. However, The Creator of the Miraculous realised, that two of these jewels were more powerful than the other despite his efforts of balance; the earrings of the Ladybug, which provided creation; and the ring of the Black Cat, which granted the power of destruction. The Creator knew that whoever controlled both blessings would achieve absolute power, a power that the Kwami had feared would be manipulated with malicious intent. After realising his mistake, The Creator promised that no matter what, he would observe the Miraculous, personally in their times of use, as he could not stop humanities tragedy on his own; leaving the Jewels with his disciples allowing them to distribute when humanity cried out in suffering.

However, no one can live forever without a cost. Many have tried, all of them have failed with various degrees of success. Immortality is a fickle thing. Wishing for eternal youth, cursed to never grow, burying loved ones and always begging for an end to your torment. The Creator had witnessed this, one of his many mistakes, one he most definitely wanted to learn from. So, he wished to be reincarnated, to watch the miraculous in humanities time of need. Unfortunately, souls and memories of humans are just as fickle as the body. While he would reincarnate he would inherit the life his successor, cursed to watch as the loved ones drift away, fade and die, cursed to watch with red eyes.

But that’s just a silly story my mother would tell me as a child. She would tell me how maybe I could be the next reincarnation of this strange man; I’d laugh when she would tell me that. Then suddenly out of the blue; I started having strange thoughts, dreams of another time, voices of people crying out for help. My mother, Evangeline, a woman who raised me, a woman who while not connected to me in blood, still cared for me as if her own, one day told me this story again, this time… I did not laugh, I cried. I looked at my mother; realised… she had not aged a single day since the day I had met her all those years ago, she smiled and told me I was ready. She told me of her friend who trained to protect the Miraculous and how she housed and protected him in his early days after the temple was destroyed. She then explained how it was time for me to fulfil my promise to the world and how I would be going to Paris, France to work with her friend to protect the Miraculous.

Why though? It wasn’t my responsibility; I never made any promise to the world! All I wanted to be was slightly successful, hanging out with friends and working towards achieving my dreams as a P.I! I never wanted this! But as I was on the plane to Paris, I couldn’t deny it… I felt the pull of that man’s promise; I won’t give in though, no matter what I will not be that man! I will observe but I will not change myself, I will not become him, not while I still have my dreams of friendship and life.

Once in Paris, I find myself outside of a massage shop… this looks shady. Why the hell would Eva send me to a massage parlour? Well, I need to figure out what’s going on and figure out my living accommodations, so might as well bite the bullet on this shady place.

Knock-knock.

The door opened at the force of my knock; that’s some security for world-ending jewels. I make my way into the shop and spot an old man meditating… this is just getting weirder. As I’m about to announce myself, he speaks. “Welcome, Young Creator.” He opened his eyes, widening as he took in my appearance. “Well… this was not what I was suspecting at all.” Rude. “But worry not, come and I shall explain the gaps in your memory.”

“Excuse me, but I am not that man, obviously. I am my own person, while I intend on helping him fulfil his promise… I have no intention of becoming him.”

“But…”

“I’ll help you but know that I am not him.”

He stared at me considering my words before gesturing for me to sit down. I sit as he pours green tea into cups.

“I understand. Now allow me to introduce myself, I am Wang Fu, Evangeline has told me a lot about you.”

“Likewise. However, I am a little confused about the situation here in Paris. There is no media mention of any Miraculous holders, so obviously neither the Ladybug nor Black Cat is in circulation as the powers they hold are less than subtle when used, so why am I here?”

“I see, you are correct in your deduction of the state of the Miraculous’, however, you were drawn to Paris, correct? We believe that that pull indicates humanities potential ruin. As soon as you started to have visions of the past, Evangeline contacted me, I was already here in Paris so we decided it may be best to let you settle in and learn about your role and responsibilities hopefully before the path to ruin forms. Of course, due to your age as well, we have been forced to enrol you in a local school high school.”

I blanched at this, having already graduated from a high school for the gifted where it wasn’t considered strange for children to skip grades depending on their academic standing. Great… just freaking fantastic… Fu looks at me as if looking for my opinion, I simply sigh and shrug, excepting my fate, begrudgingly.

“So… Where exactly will I be living? I mean, not to be rude or anything, but this shop/apartment isn’t exactly big.”

“Yes, my home is only so big, and I already have a littler of picky roommates. Evangeline and I have decided to let you stay at her old home while she lived in Paris many years ago. She assured me that it would be to your tastes and it isn’t too far from your new school.”

Eva’s old home? I kinda worried now, she’s the sort of person who loves antiques and old dollies, sure she grew out of it when she adopted me but if this is her ‘old’ home… It’s not exactly a place I want to be, surrounded by creepy dolls and old stuff, at least I didn’t have to pay rent… wait…

“What about money? If I live alone, won’t I have to buy food and stuff?”

“Ah yes, Evangeline told me, that while she is more than happy to supply money for food and essentials, it will be sent to an account that will record what you buy, she stressed that I tell you that money is for essentials only.”

“Sounds like Eva… did she mention anything else?”

“Oh, she told me to give you this note when you asked about money.” He hands me a small note.

- If you want games, junk, comics/books, anything not essential… GET A JOB!

- Love you, Eva!

Yup… that’s definitely Eva. I laugh weakly, thinking who would hire a 13-year-old kid for more than a paper-round. Suddenly a flash of green whizzed around the room, I instinctively tensed ready to defend myself but quickly feeling foolish, seeing a green Turtle like creature.

“Wayzz…” I find myself muttering, having no idea of where the name came from… perhaps one of his memories.

“Master, Master! Master, the Moth Miraculous, I felt its aura!” Wait, what?

“I thought it had been lost forever!” He lost a Miraculous?! What?!

“But Master, it’s a negative aura. I fear it may have gotten into the hands of a dark power!” Oh just great!

“We must find Nooroo and his Miraculous. If it has gotten into the wrong hands, it means the path to ruin has formed and there’s no telling what evil will come to the world!” He stands raising his fist hand to the ceiling, a green turtle shell charm bracelet reviling itself. I find myself stammering.

“Hh-hey wait a sec- “

“Time to transform! Wayzz- Hack!” He doubles over in pain. If I wasn’t so confused, I’d find this almost comical… almost. Wayzz floats over to him almost exasperated.

“Please Master. Be reasonable. You are- “

“Still young! I’m only 186.” Only?! Then again, I just found out the woman who raised me is an immortal child, so what do I know. “But you’re right, Wayzz. Young One, I can no longer do it alone, it is time… We’ll need some help.” He walks over to the gramophone and revealing a box with symbols I somehow knew all too well, a box that housed the most powerful jewels in the world, the Miraculous.

As we roam the streets of Paris, I notice a school. Other kids making their way inside, chatting about their summer vacation. I feel myself dread at the idea of enrolling during the second year, everyone already knows each other, it’s gonna feel weird, dammit. We get to a crossing and I see a short navy haired girl rush out of the bakery across the street with a box in her hands, as I am about to dismiss her from my thoughts, Fu started to walk forward acting frail and old despite the light still being red for pedestrians. “Hey, wait!”

“Uuuhhaawh?!” The girl rushed out and grabs him by the hand, taking him to the other side of the street, dropping the box in the process. The light changes and I rush over, noticing people stepping on the baked goods that fell out the box.

“Thank you, miss. Oh! What a disaster.” Yeah, I wonder who’s fault that is, old man. I pick the box up and hand her it back.

“Sorry about your macarons, he just walked into the road suddenly.”

“Don’t worry, I’m no stranger to disasters, besides, there are still a few left. Would you like one?” She said kindly, offering the box to pick one out. Fu reached out and took one before eating it.

“Mmmh. Delicious! Do you attend Françoise Dupont? My friend’s child here is enrolling today for the second-year class.” Wait, what’s he doing?

“Oh really? Welcome to Dupont then! Do you know which class you’ll be in?”

“Erm, I believe Miss Bustier’s class?”

“Same here! Would you like me to show you the way?”

“Oh no, there’s no nee- “

“Oh thank you, it’s reassuring that this little one will have such a friendly face in class.” What the hell old man!? As if reading my thoughts, he looked at me innocently. “After all, it’s normal for a child to attend the first day of school, right?” Ack… he goddamned planned this! I don’t know how but he definitely planned this! Aren’t I supposed to help you find the holders for the Miraculous, Fu? Again, he simply smiles as he looks at me. “I’ll inform you of my progress when school finishes.”

“Oh no, we’re gonna be late! Ah, have a nice day, sir! Come on!” She cries as she pulls me along. “Oh, how rude! I don’t think I’ve asked your name!”

“My name? Oh, it’s Alice.”

“Alice, eh? Nice to meet you, and I must say, what lovely red eyes you have!”

#miraculous ladybug #ml rewrite #ml spite #ml salt #Marinette needs a hug #marinette dupen chang #ml wayzz #ml fu #no beta read

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utilitycaster · 5 years ago

Text

Truesight pt 2

(I wrote this a while back as the follow-up to Truesight but never posted it. It’s AU now, but I love the idea of reluctant allies Essek “Hot Boi” Thelyss and Expositor Dairon. This and the first part both take place right after episode 77, in which Essek executes the scourger prisoner and Jester learns that Yasha, under Obann’s control, had attacked the Cobalt Soul in Zadash)

Dairon tried to spend the day clearing their head, despite the terrible news. Cleaning the house took little time given how briefly everyone had been back in town; meditation only could last so long, as could exercises; and so the day went agonizingly slowly. The knock from Essek that evening was nearly a relief, and the sole benefit of all those long hours was plenty of time to prepare.

“It’s been a long day for me, and I suspect it may have been the same for you. I’ve brought a drink,” Essek said as he glided in.

“Great,” said Dairon, bringing out two glasses. Essek nodded in thanks and gave them each a generous pour.

Well, thought Dairon, this might be an advantage.

Essek spoke first. “Have you had any more messages?” Dairon nodded. “Not from Jester, but from a colleague. The scrying was correct. There has been an attack by demonic forces on my home, and several did not escape with their lives. Others hang in the balance.” There had been no updates on Zeenoth since the first message, and she desperately hoped no news was good news - he could be fusty, but he was a good archivist and she would miss him dearly if he didn’t make it.

Essek passed her the glass, which she accepted. “I’m sorry. Bazzoxan endures these frequently, and Asarius has had several recently as well. It is never easy.”

“Did you learn anything from your prisoner?” asked Dairon after a moment.

“Oh yes, said Essek, and took a long sip. “Most of the questions were not mine to ask, but I did help disguise a priest of the Luxon as an elven soldier in imperial garb, which was very helpful in getting her...essence, I suppose, to talk.” He was silent again and Dairon sighed inwardly.

“Shadowhand Thelyss, might I remind you that you approached me for help combating the Cerberus Assembly and that this is intel I can help verify or act upon?”

Essek cocked his head. “And might I remind you that you are an enemy spy in hostile territory, undiscovered because it would damage both my goals and my standing? But you make a point.” He drained his glass and poured another. “What do you know of the Mighty Nein?”

“All of them? I am sure you have figured out that I know much of Beauregard’s history,” Dairon begain. Essek shook his head.

“Never mind. What do you know of the scourgers?”

“Not much, but their existence is what led me to begin to look into the Assembly. There were some...incidents in Zemni Fields. Odd happenings.”

“Odd happenings?” said Essek.

“Towns nearly being wiped out, but in a way that made little sense. Illnesses that burned through isolated villages and disappeared - with no record of a quarantine. Towns that hadn’t seen more violence than a tavern brawl in a century being struck by the most ruthless of murders in the night. Fires when it had been raining for weeks. And all explained away quietly.”

“And what is your theory?” said Essek quietly. Dairon, a teacher herself, recognized the tone. They took a steady breath, exhaling slowly before responding.

“I told Beauregard once that her friends - really, any connections - would become a liability for her. That may not be true, but still, I think that Beauregard’s initial skill was at least partially motivated by her familial difficulties.” Dairon had chosen from the moment Essek walked in not to let the bittersweet alcohol affect her, but it would be wise to act as though it had and be just a little more forthcoming than usual. “I suspected the scourgers were doing something a bit more...permanent than merely distancing themselves.”

“According to our priest’s inquiries, your suspicions are correct,” said Essek, halfway through his second glass already, and Dairon noticed for the first time how strained he looked. He gave her a brittle smile over the glass. “And yet from the Wuuyun Gorge to Rexxentrum, they tell their children tales of the barbaric cricks.”

Dairon was trained enough not to flinch at that.

“You have vouched for the Mighty Nein and so will I: they share my concerns - and yours - about the Assembly.” They finished their glass and waited for Essek patiently. After a moment, he began to talk again.

“You work alone and behind the lines by choice. If I were not quite so gifted, I would be at the front lines with most of my peers.”

“Do you wish you were there?”

“Light, no,” Essek scoffed, but then softened. “But there are a few I wish were back here.”

Dairon considered him, and then made her request. “You have seen me as I am. May I have permission to see you as you are?”

Essek gave them a look. “I’m not in any disguise.”

“That’s not quite what I mean. I apologize for this in advance -” and with that Dairon drove their hand hard towards his shoulder and connected. Essek cursed as Dairon felt the technique take hold.

“You will not be able to lie for a moment, though you do not have to answer. Have you told anyone about me?”

“No,” grunted Essek painfully.

“Will you?”

“Not unless you do something stupid.”

“Why are you trying to work with me?”

“You have access to the heroes of the Dynasty and their trust in a way that I do not.

I told you the truth this morning. We share a goal. I do not want more of my friends to die. I want the Empire wizards to stop trying to steal the knowledge we in the Dynasty have studied and nurtured and harnessed. I care not for conquest, just an end, and the return of the artifacts of The Light and...yes, a return. And,” he added, still holding the shoulder Dairon had hit, “an attack against the leaders of the Assembly would not displease me.”

“What information did you really want from me about the Mighty Nein?”

“About the scourgers. And about Caleb Widogast in particular.”

“Why?”

Here Essek lifted his chin and held their gaze, but did not answer. Dairon sighed.

“I have listened in on your conversations with him, and more in this house, and I think you are wise enough to appreciate the irony of you attempting to protect a child of the Empire from me. I know he was trained in that way for a time and that he is familiar with the assembly. I know no specifics of his training, and I do not think Beauregard would share them, even if she knows, even with me. What I know is what you know: he is intelligent enough to study the arcane yet either ignorant or foolish enough to enter the Dynasty with no attempt to hide his accent. He has very neat handwriting. He does not ever leave his spellbooks unattended, not even when he sleeps, and if he keeps a journal I have not found it. Oh, and he is very devoted to his magical cat.”

Essek turned back to his drink for a moment. Upon finishing it he mumbled something.

“What was that?” Dairon asked.

“If you must know, I was testing if I could lie again, and since I am not a moorbounder it seems I can. You do realize that was your only chance for that, er, maneuver.”

“I do,” answered Dairon. “And I am sorry, but you must realize I would like to know sooner rather than later if I should flee the Dynasty or if I can indeed work with you. And, Shadowhand, I think I can, but I have some recommendations.”

Essek gave her a skeptically amused look. Dairon noted that the breeze that seemed to accompany his robes remained but the strong drinks were affecting him. He seemed tired, and worried, and she realized as he relaxed a bit in his chair for the first time, no older than she was. And, from what he’d said earlier of his peers being sent off to the front lines, probably lonely.

“All right, what are they?” he finally responsed.

“First,” they said, “while the Mighty Nein are away we cannot meet in this house unless you can come up with a cover story - and even then we cannot talk at length without some kind of illusion or at the very least, tightly drawn curtains. Or I suppose you could make some subtle hints that I am an agent of the Dynasty working with you, an extra eye on your charges. But if we do not do that, I propose we find a neutral location.“

“Agreed,” said Essek. “I can think both those options over. Few people would see through your disguise as I have and I know nearly everyone who could, so I am sure we can find a suitable tavern should it come to that.”

“Second: if I may be so bold, no matter how much he does for the Dynasty you will have a difficult time should you choose to court your student and asset.”

Essek looked as though he would try to deny it for a moment, but he quickly crumbled as his posture deteriorated further. He rested his head in his hands. “Light, am I that obvious?”

“Yes,” said Dairon.

Essek looked up slightly blearily. “I listened in to his conversation with the scourger.”

“You speak Zemnian?”

“It’s a simple spell to do so. He was...complicated, yesterday. I know his name was not always Caleb. I know he has it in him to be an executioner.” Essek paused, his jaw tight. “I know I do, too. And I know that while the scourgers are enemies of us both” here Essek gestured at himself and Dairon, whose expression softened for a brief instant in acknowledgement, “and are trying to steal the magical heritage I carry, I also fear we will lose a generation of dunamancers in trying to fight them, and only I will remain.” He stopped himself. “Your truth telling isn’t still working?”

“No, you got yourself drunk in front of the enemy, which is my third point: I am a trained spy in service to the goddess of knowledge. You are a scholar and arcanist thrown into spycraft. When it comes to covert operations, while this is your geographical territory, it is not your area of expertise.”

Essek attempted to gather his dignity at the last statement. “Anything else, Expositor?” he asked, attempting to be biting and nearly achieving it.

“If you ignore my second piece of advice, at the very least do not ask other races what it’s like to grow a beard. They do not appreciate it as a question, even if you are, ah, involved with them.”

Essek appeared to be fighting a smile. “I will keep that in mind. Anyhow, he seems solely interested in what I can teach him of dunamancy, if I am being honest. I suppose if someone else with talent respects and cherishes this craft one day as I do, and manages to survive this conflict...that will have to be enough.” He nodded at Dairon, who opened the door for him, and glided out with only the faintest unsteadiness.

#my fic #critical role #expositor dairon #essek thelyss #i guess let me know if you need this tagged otherwise but i feel that it's not really a ship if it's just one dumbass having a crush

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justkeeptrekkin · 6 years ago

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One sleep talking man and his patient boyfriend

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY FAVOURITE LISTENER! @ill-go-with-that-then luv ya mate sorry it’s late

It’s two o’clock in the morning when Shouta awakens from a light sleep. Everything appears to be silent, save the gentle tick of Mic’s watch in his bedside drawer, and the cicadas singing to a dark-blue, summer night sky. Hizashi snores gently beside him. Shouta rolls onto his back and stares at the slowly turning ceiling fan, kicks off the covers from his side to cool himself down.

He lets out a drawn out sigh.

Insomnia is no stranger to him. He’s slept little at night his whole life, and overcompensated during the day for as long as he can remember. All of his school years had been spent dozing in class. He’d even fallen asleep during a test for job interview once, which hadn’t led to good consequences.

As an adult, he still spends most nights awake. And, since he and Hizashi started dating a few months ago, it’s not really improved.

In fact-

“Where is the POLAR BEAR?”

Hizashi violently turns over beside him, flopping onto his stomach and pressing his face into the pillow, cheek squished. There’s a deep frown on his face as he puzzles over where said polar bear has gone.

Shouta smiles to himself. So, that’s probably what woke him up, then.

Many a high school sleepover had been spent with Shouta reading comics in the dark of Hizashi’s room by torchlight, whilst his friend shouted about cartwheeling pineapples into the darkness. It seems that for Hizashi, too, there’s been little change in sleeping habits.

They’ve been flatmates for years now, and Shouta has even been woken up from his chattering through the wall in the past. And whilst Hizashi’s been made aware of the issue by various disgruntled partners- who Shouta has tried not to glare at in the mornings when he’s drinking his first cup of coffee before school- there’s very little that can be done.

And, truth be told, he’s not sure that he wants anything to be done. He likes being reminded that Hizashi is there. He likes that he’s noisy.

Shouta rolls over to face him, watches his boyfriend’s frown deepen further. Drooling a little on the pillow. It’s kind of endearing. Especially without his glasses; Hizashi somehow looks a lot younger without them. He grumbles in his sleep.

And then he opens his eyes.

He looks sternly at Shouta, brows furrowed seriously. And yet, despite the intensity of the stare, there’s a distant look in his eyes that tells Shouta that he isn’t awake.

“Where is it?” Hizashi demands.

Yep. Definitely asleep.

“It’s gone, now, Hizashi. It’s fine. Go back to sleep.”

There’s a pause, a beat where asleep-Hizashi seems to consider this. And then he harrumphs, clearly not satisfied with the answer. Sitting up in bed, Hizashi hazily scans the room, scratching the top of his messy blonde head.

“It’s somewhere. I think she’s got it.”

“You can look for it in the morning,” Shouta says logically, having no idea of course who ‘she’ might be referring to.

Unfortunately, unconscious Hizashi does not follow logic. He tuts at Shouta’s suggestion, shakes his head like this is the silliest thing he’s heard all night, swings his legs out of bed and stands there. Looking a little lost with the sleepy frown on his face, but nonetheless determined. Shouta merely watches with quiet amusement as Hizashi makes his way confidently to the chest of drawers, picking up various items and helpfully putting them in places that Shouta knows Hizashi will forget about in the morning. Hizashi continues to shake his head to himself and huff, like a put-upon housewife whose husband does none of the chores.

Shouta sits up in bed and rubs his face. Hizashi, meanwhile, assertively puts his hairbrush in the ensuite sink, before returning to rearrange the contents of the chest of drawers.

Sleep-cleaning is a recent development. This is possibly due to the fact that Hizashi’s sleep routine has, indeed, revelry changed- he shares a bed every night, now. Shouta finds the whole scenario wonderfully ridiculous, hilarious, and heart-warming, just as Hizashi is in all aspects of life.

With a sigh, he eventually gets out of bed and places a hand on Hizashi’s shoulder. He immediately stills; for a moment he wonders if he’s done the wrong thing. He doesn’t want to wake him up, just bring him back to bed. Hizashi stares off into the distance, swaying a little on the spot.

And then he says, in a heart-breakingly small voice, “Can we get ice-cream on the way home?”

Shouta pulls him gently back into bed. “Yes, I’ll buy you an ice-cream on the way home.”

Hizashi’s face crumples, a small pout on his lips. “You promise?”

“I promise.”

Hizashi nods sadly to himself, and clambers back into bed. Shouta lies beside him on his back, head turned to watch him as he collapses into the sheets.

Shouta closes his eyes and tries, a little optimistically, to sleep again. But then:

“I love you.”

Shouta opens his eyes. Hizashi says this as he buries his face into Shouta’s shoulder. He lays a soft kiss on the top of his head, breathes and takes in the moment. “I love you, too. Now go to sleep.”

No sooner than the moment he finishes his sentence, Hizashi is snoring again.

000

Shouta has to admit that the reason he can do so much more work than anyone else is distinctly because of his insomnia. It’s helpful. But then, marking Kaminari’s essay at four in the morning isn’t really the ideal way to be spending his time.

It’s both a blessing and a curse.

After Hizashi’s sleep-cleaning episode, Shouta, predictably, couldn’t get back to sleep. And so he quietly transferred himself to the kitchen table, where he now marks 1A’s most recent essays. He’s beginning to lose the will to live with Kaminari’s, considering stopping halfway through and just writing please stop in red ink at the end of the paper. Maybe he can read Yaoyorozu’s to make himself feel a tiny bit less of a shit teacher. He takes a sip from the juice packet he’s got going, spills a bit on Kaminari’s paper.

Oops, he thinks, before considering that, actually, pouring juice all over the essay would probably improve it.

A quiet shuffling from the bedroom attracts his attention. Hizashi stands in the doorway, eyes half open. It’s a warm night, and at some point, he’s peeled off his bed shirt. A scar from his last fight stands out on his collarbone.

“Babe,” Hizashi whines.

“What is it, ‘Zashi.”

“Come back.”

Shouta sighs, drops his pen on the pile of papers. “I’m up. It’s fine. I’m sorry if I woke you.”

That sleepy face scrunches into something disgruntled. “Baby bear come back to bed. Please.”

Shouta sighs again, leans back in the wooden dining room chair.

“Did I wake you up?” Hizashi asks sheepishly, padding into the room. “Did I sleep talk?”

“No, I was awake anyway.”

Hizashi’s arms wrap themselves around Shouta’s neck from behind the chair, and he leans into them. “You can come work next to me. You won’t wake me up with the light on.” “‘Zashi, it’s fine, you know I’ve always worked during nights-”

“Not healthy,” he grumbles, face buried in Shouta’s hair.

“And working in bed is?”

Hizashi grumbles again. “Come back to bed. You don’t have to spend all your free time working.” “You have other things in mind? You know I won’t get back to sleep.” “You can cuddle me as I happily fall asleep in your arms.” “Right. And I’ll lie there awake with you giving me a dead arm?” He doesn’t actually have much of an issue with this plan, but the banter is worth it.

“Yes, and you’ll love it. Better than marking essays anyway, right?”

Shouta doesn’t respond.

“Right??” Hizashi shakes him by the shoulders.

He snorts. “Obviously. Fine. I’ll be in there in a sec.” “No, now.”

Shouta groans. “You’re so difficult when you’re half asleep.” Hizashi lazily pulls on Shouta’s arm. Leaning back, he hangs onto his hand as Shouta remains firmly planted in the chair for no reason other than it’s fun to tease Hizashi. But, after a second, when he notices his petulant, sad expression, Shouta gives in. He stands up and follows Hizashi to bed.

That’s the night he discovers that cuddling Hizashi has the remarkable effect of knocking him out entirely.

000

Shouta wakes up to Hizashi carefully peeling himself away from behind him, unwrapping his arms from around his waist. He lies there with his eyes closed, letting himself wake up slowly to the sound of Hizashi wandering about, getting ready. He always wakes up earlier than him to create the Present Mic look.

The ensuite door opens, and Shouta listens to Hizashi mutter about his comb being in the sink again as he gets dressed post-shower. There’s quiet humming as he gets ready. Shouta distantly listens, feeling like he might fall back asleep again.

“Shit. Where is it?”

Shouta takes a deep, slow breath. Buries his face into his pillow.

“Shit shit shit. I swear I bought some more yesterday.”

This happens almost every other morning.

Hizashi whines to himself as he goes through the regular crisis of- I’ve moved something in my sleep, I don’t know where it is, Shouta probably does, I don’t want to wake him up.

Shouta can’t be arsed to face the world yet, but he knows that in a minute-

“Babe…?”

Hizashi’s weight moves the bed as he sits down next to Shouta. He feels his hand stroking his hair.

“Hmmph.”

“Babe, you awake?” “Yes. What’ve you lost.” “Errrr. My hair gel.”

Shouta stretches, feet poking out the bottom of the bed. He rolls over and faces the other way. “Not telling you.” Hizashi splutters. Shouta smiles to himself. “Wh- that’s- wh- Shou! I’m gonna be so seriously late-”

“You’ll just have to suffer without it, then.”

There’s a distressed whining noise from the other side of the bed. Shouta groans and rolls onto his back, opens his eyes. Hizashi peers over at him with wide green eyes. Puppy eyes never work on him. Or so he likes to tell himself.

“Please. I miss my tall banana hair. And I can’t find my gel anywhere. Man, I couldn’t find, like, anything today, unconscious me was really going for it with the cleaning last night, huh?”

“Hmm,” Shouta replies. Then, “It’s underneath your shoe rack in the wardrobe.”

Hizashi grins, attacks him with a thousand kisses. Shouta bats him away, watches him search beneath the shoe rack and triumphantly hold up the gel. He moves into the bathroom to finish getting ready.

“Damn. Why am I like this, man? There’s gotta be some fucked up psychological reason for this.”

Shouta sits up in bed, pulls the duvet up to his neck and draws his knees closer. “We already knew you were crazy.”

“Sure, but, like, still. Did I keep you awake much last night?” “No. Don’t worry about it.”

Hizashi is mid hair styling and he pauses- hands in the air and hair half gelled up. His reflection peers at Shouta over the rim of his prescription glasses, brows drawn together.

“I don’t believe you.”

Shouta shrugs. “OK.”

Hizashi’s face contorts into a guilty grimace. “I’m sorry.”

Shouta scratches his head sleepily. “It’s fine. I slept for ages after I did some marking, anyway.”

Hizashi smiles, seemingly a little proud of this fact, and continues to get ready for the day as Shouta watches.

000

Shouta is wrapped up in his sleeping bag on the staff room floor. He’s not really sleeping, but he’s not entirely awake either. The rest of his marking lies in his lap, and it’s falling off the closer he gets to drifting off.

“Eraser.” Shouta doesn’t respond to Nemuri. He doesn’t want to.

“He’s asleep,” Yagi says from the other side of the staff-room.

“No he’s not,” she says simply.

Shouta sighs. “I’m just resting my eyes.” He creaks one open, surveys Nemuri, who looms over him with her hands on her hips and a distinctly frustrated look in her eye.

“Can you tell me why your asshole boyfriend won’t talk to me today?”

Nemuri looks over to Hizashi’s desk, where the hero has resolutely turned his back to her and is humming to himself whilst working. She crosses her arms over her chest. Thirteen watches with a distanced interest, whilst Yagi shrinks behind his computer screen.

Unlike the cleaning, this isn’t a recent habit of Hizashi’s. Ever since high school, Hizashi has held a grudge like no one else that Shouta knows. Hizashi would go to any lengths to pointedly ignore the offending person until they apologised. The problem was, and still is- if that person doesn’t know what they’ve done wrong, they’ll get the cold shoulder for the rest of time. On occasions like these, Shouta has always been the go-to person to explain why Hizashi is glaring at them from the other side of the room. He’s the only person to have ever understood Hizashi well enough to interpret him.

This time, the answer to Nemuri’s question is clear.

“I dunno.”

She raises her eyebrows. “Well that’s a lie, you know everything that’s going on through his head.”

“Which probably means that whatever reason he’s pissed off at you for is because he dreamed it.”

That elicits a hurt scoff from across the room. Present Mic spins in his desk chair, shoots him a betrayed look through sunglasses. “Not true, dude!”

“I literally can’t think of anything I could have done,” Nemuri argues reasonably, arms still crossed. “And I like to think I’ve gotten a good idea of how not to piss you off after all this time.” Hizashi pushes up his sunglasses and spins away again. “If you don’t even know what you’ve done, then you don’t deserve my forgiveness.” Nemuri looks at Shouta for help. He shrugs. She scowls.

“Do you even know what I’ve done?” Nemuri demands.

Yagi has now joined Thirteen in watching this tennis match. He peers from around the edge of the computer. Meanwhile, Shouta invigilates the ongoing situation from the floor in his sleeping bag. Far more comfortable than his desk chair.

Hizashi measures this question, and seems to take pause.

“Yes,” he says eventually, a little too emphatically to be convincing.

“Right, so please enlighten me.”

Hizashi pauses again, and even with his back turned, Shouta can tell that he’s pouting defiantly into the distance as he tries desperately to remember why he’s upset.

“Does it involve a polar bear, by any chance,” Shouta offers.

There’s a long moment of silence. Then Nemuri gesticulates wildly, a wordless ‘what the fuck?’ to the room.

Hizashi looks sheepishly over at Shouta and Nemuri. “Oh shit. Oh man. It was a dream, wasn’t it?”

Nemuri stares at him, and then erupts into raucous laughter.

“Oh my god, Mic.”

Hizashi wails, spins in his desk chair in his distress. “I’m sorry! I had crazy vivid dreams last night yo! I had a polar bear and it was totally awesome ‘cause, like, I rode it into battle! And then you stole it, and-“

“You spent a few minutes last night looking for it,” Shouta supplies.

And then, the whole staffroom joins in with the laughter. To the point where Hizashi is weeping, hands on Nemuri’s shoulders and hanging off her like he’s about to collapse onto the floor in tears.

Needless to say, Kan is more than a little baffled to come in and find them all crying, talking about polar bears and Mic being a bitch.

000

Shouta gets home just after Hizashi most days. Working overtime is a bitch.

He finds him sat on the sofa, reading some music magazine cross-legged with the news on in the background. The smell of something cooking fills the room, and the kitchen window lets out the steam. It drifts over the Mustafu horizon.

Hizashi looks up at him. “Welcome home!”

Shouta doesn’t reply, merely drops his work on the kitchen table and collapses onto the sofa, lying his head on Hizashi’s lap.

Hizashi chuckles. Shouta feels his hand rest on top of his head. “Babe. Long day?”

“They’re always long,” he mumbles into his jeans.

Hizashi begins to stroke Shouta’s head. “You work too much.”

“Hmmph.”

There’s the sound of the magazine being closed and thrown onto the living room table. The feeling of fingers carding through his hair. He feels his head falling heavy on Hizashi’s lap, his breathing slowing. He’s getting pins and needles in his feet- they’re propped up high on the arm of the sofa, the blood draining from them.

“Don’t fall asleep before dinner,” Hizashi chastises, with very little conviction.

Shouta doesn’t really hear his words at first. He’s sort of falling asleep already. His half conscious brain eventually measures them, and he stretches like a cat.

“Can’t promise anything.”

Hizashi snorts. “OK. OK. I’ll wake you up when food’s ready.”

His hand continues to card through his hair. It’s a slow, gentle motion that is only making him sleepier. He thinks Hizashi already knows this. Shouta feels himself being dragged back into sleep. Warm. Quiet. The soft material of Hizashi’s t-shirt beneath his fingers.

“Best boyfriend in the world,” Hizashi whispers.

“Huh,” Shouta mumbles. He’s barely awake. He’s not sure if Hizashi even said anything.

“Nothing. Sleep well, Shou.”

#bnha #mha #erasermic #maizawa #yamada hizashi #aizawa shouta #eraserhead #present mic #fan fic #my writing #i'll-go-with-that-then #kayama nemuri #midnight

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mcsmseason3 · 5 years ago

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MCSM Origins Book I: Enter Lapilisia Lazul - Part 1

Summary:

Lapilisia Lazul, or Lapis for short, is a Gemonyk from Krystalyx in search of adventure beyond her own world. Her travels lead her to Emerl, another Gem from Krystalyx and a knight of the Order of the Stone. Little does she know that her life is about to change completely.

Next Chapter: Here

Many years ago, before the defeat of the Ender Dragon…

It was a sunny afternoon. The forest was silent aside from the occasional trickling of a stream or the odd animal or bird passing by. A cliff stuck out from the tree line, looking out over the woods which seemed to stretch out for blocks and blocks. The sound of footsteps on grass interrupted the silence as a woman seeming to be in her mid-20’s wearing sky blue robes and a blue cape hiked up the cliff. She had brown hair with blue highlights, pale skin, and golden freckles. What stood out most was a round lapis lazuli stone with a golden casing around the edges that seemed to be embedded in her chest.

Lapilisia Lazul, otherwise known as Lapis, looked out at the forest with bright eyes. “Wow…” she gasped in awe as she admired the view, “This is even prettier than the forests in Verde.” Lapis sat down on the cliff edge, her legs dangling off the edge as she felt a light breeze blew past her. Lapis had been travelling for the past few months, travelling by ship from her home in the Azurialis Archipelago to the Kingdom of Verde before crossing the Farlands that separated Krystalyx and Minecraftia. There were quite a few similarities between the two worlds…the biggest difference, of course, being the lack of magic in Minecraftia compared to Krystalyx. That and the lack of humanoids that are made of light and have gemstones embedded in their bodies. The people of her home were sad to see her go – she was the Blue Shard after all, she was pretty much their national hero-to-be – but knew that the journey would be good for her.

Lapis’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of hissing coming from behind her. She looked behind her, only to be greeted by a creeper trudging towards her. “Uh oh!” Lapis went to get to her feet, but the creeper was quicker on the draw. It exploded, causing Lapis to fall backwards off the cliff. “Please just poof, please don’t shatter, please just poof, please don’t shatter!” Lapis prayed as she squeezed her eyes shut and fell to the ground below.

*POOF!*

*TINK, TI-TINK!*

Lapis’s form disappeared upon impact with the ground as her gem clattered onto the earth, thankfully unharmed.

“Who goes there?!”

A voice rang out followed by the sound of footsteps running through the forest, “I heard an explosion! Is someone hurt?” A woman – roughly in her late 30’s – rushed through the trees into the small clearing near the cliff. She had short, side-swept, black hair with bright green tips and bangs. She wore a green shirt with long flowing sleeves and exposed an emerald stone on her chest, black trousers and green boots. There was a bright green sash around her waist and black and green gloves. Covering her outfit was black cape with an odd green symbol on it. She had pale skin and bright green eyes with pupils shaped similar to her gem.

Emerl Verdyk glanced around the clearing, an emerald sword with a golden hilt in hand, with a confused look on her face, “Hello? Anyone here?” Emerl looked up and the cliff top and noticed a small crater taken out of it. “Tch…creepers. Such a pain…” she sighed. Emerl turned to leave before a small glint of the sun hitting something caught her eye. She dismissed her sword and walked over to the object and picked it up. “A lapis lazuli?” Emerl muttered, confused as to why loose lapis was just lying around, “No wait…this is a Gemonyk. What are you doing all the way in Minecraftia, friend?” Almost on cue, the gemstone began to glow and levitate into the air. Emerl took a few steps back as the light being emitted from the gem shifted into a humanoid form before scattering to revel Lapis – good as new. “Whoa!” Lapis exclaimed as she landed on her feet, stumbling a bit before examining herself, “Okay, gem’s intact…outfit still looks awesome…still have hair, that’s a plus…can’t see my face so gonna have to hope my freckles are still there. I love my babies! Alright, overall: looking good!” Lapis breathed a sigh of relief. Noticing a presence behind her, Lapis turned around to see Emerl standing there with a small smile. Lapis noticed the emerald stone on her chest and her eyes lit up, “OHMYGOSHOHMYGOSHOHMYGOSH!!! You- you’re a Gem! You’re like me!”

Emerl nodded before extending her hand, “Emerl Verdyk; former knight of the Kingdom of Verde, current knight of the Order of the Stone. At your service.”

“Lapilisia Lazul, but you can call me Lapis!” Lapis grinned shaking Emerl’s hand before her eyes going wide, “Wait a sec! Emerl Verdyk? THE Emerl Verdyk?”

“That’s me.”

“No way!” Lapis’s jaw nearly hit the floor, “You’re the Green Shard that went rogue and disappeared! You’re in Minecraftia?”

“Yep. When you’re trained from the moment you emerge from the earth to be a ‘great warrior-hero of legend’, you tend to get sick of it after over 30 years.” Emerl shrugged, before looking around, “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m guessing you were poofed by that creeper explosion just there, right? Come. I’ll bring you to the Order’s temple where we’ll be safe from any more day-time monsters. You can tell me about how you ended up here on the way.”

“Alrighty! Lead the way!” Lapis smiled cheerfully as she followed Emerl through the trees.

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

“So you’re a Shard too, then?” Emerl asked as they emerged from the forest. “Yep!” Lapis replied with a smile, “But I don’t have a handle on my powers yet. They tend to come and go as they please.”

“The Blue Shard’s power is Future Vision, right? You can see glimpses into the future?”

“Yup. It’s a pretty cool power, in my opinion! But not so cool when you get a bad vision, especially since the events are kinda set in stone.”

“How do you know that?”

“I’ve tried to change the events myself. But it seems that every time I try, I somehow end up ensuring they happen. Ugh…even just thinking about it makes my head hurt.” Lapis then laughed nervously, “Kinda wish I was given a heads up about that creeper though. My visions tend to have lousy timing sometimes.”

“You’ll learn to control it eventually.” Emerl gave a reassuring smile as she summoned a green and gold shield, “You’d be surprised how many times I’ve summoned this thing by accident. Hit my mentor in the head one time!”

“Oh no!” Lapis giggled. “Yeah, got an extra hour of training for a month after that.” Emerl chuckled as she dismissed the shield, “But it was pretty funny.” Emerl looked up as she spotted the temple peeking over the hilltops, “Ah! Almost at the temple now!”

“By the way,” Lapis began, “Who are the Order of the Stone? You’ve mentioned them a bit now.”

“Where do I begin?” Emerl chuckled, “They’re a group of heroes that travel to the far corners of the world in search of adventure. They’ve been from the Nether to the bottom of the sea!”

“Cool!” Lapis’s eyes brightened in awe, “You guys must have to travel a lot.”

“Yeah, but we have a rail system in the Nether that helps us get to places.” Emerl replied, “Their actually down there working on it while I patrol the are around the temple. Looks like it was a good thing I did, eh?” Emerl gave Lapis a playful nudge, earning a giggle from the Gem.

The two Gems entered the temple. Lapis gazed in awe at the beautiful structure. “Watch your step!” Emerl warned as she stepped over a pressure plate, “There are anti-monster traps set up here to protect the place.” Lapis looked at the walls and saw small dispensers embedded in them. “Aww! They look like lil’ faces!” Lapis cooed. “They’re not so cute when you take an arrow to the foot. Trust me.” Emerl chuckled, remembering the time Magnus stepped on one of the plates by accident and Emerl nearly got poofed as a result. “So what are the rest of the Order like?” Lapis asked as they walked through the Library, “Well, the Leader and Founder of the Order is Soren.” Emerl began, “He’s a master builder, a genius, but also a bit of a goofball…and prone to burst into song for reasons I’ll never understand. There’s Gabriel the Warrior, who is the strongest out of us. He’s a little full of himself, but he means well. Magnus is the Order’s rogue and a walking disaster zone. Seriously, his room is so full of TNT and I’ve no idea how he hasn’t blown a hole in the temple yet. Ellegaard is another genius of the Order. She knows pretty much everything about redstone and what it can be used for. The stuff she’s able to come up with is incredible. However, she and Magnus tend to butt heads a lot. If you ever hear shouting echoing around the temple, it’s more-than-likely them. Last is Ivor, the Brewer. He’s an expert in potions and enchantments. He looks grumpy but he’s actually quite eccentric when it comes to adventures. Whenever we leave on a trip, he always yells at the top of his voice ‘ADVENTURE!!!’”

Lapis laughed as Emerl mimicked Ivor’s shout, her voice echoing off the walls as they walked up the staircase. “What about you?” Lapis asked. “Well, I’m not really a member of the Order per se. I’m more like…” Emerl searched for the word in her mind, “…a bodyguard! Like, you know how the Shards had the Royal Guard back in the dark days? I’m like that!”

“That’s kinda funny considering you’re a Shard!”

“I guess it is!”

As the two walked up the stairs into the map room, Lapis’s eyes were drawn to a small trinket standing upon a pedestal. “What’s that?” Lapis asked. “That’s the Order’s Amulet.” Emerl replied, “The Order uses it to track the other members when they’re on the surface. Hmm…” Emerl glanced between the Amulet and the map, “Odd…they should be on the surface by now. What’s taking them so long?” Emerl turned to Lapis, “Hey. Ever been to the Nether?”

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

“Whoa!” Lapis gazed up at the obsidian framing the purple portal, “This thing leads to the Nether?”

“You got it.” Emerl nodded, “Just a heads up: the heat in there is pretty intense, so water powers might not work.”

“Don’t you worry.” Lapis grinned, “I don’t need my powers to kick butt!”

“Keep that enthusiasm going!” Emerl smirked, “Off we go!” Emerl jumped into the portal, Lapis following suit. Lapis’s jaw nearly hit the floor at the view around her. Red rocks, fire and lava as far as the eye could see. The two gems stood upon a dark coloured platform with stairs leading downwards to several minecart railways. “Keep up.” Emerl called behind her as she made her way down the steps, “If I remember correctly, they took…this one.” Emerl hopped into a minecart and Lapis hopped into one behind her. “Hang on tight!” Emerl grinned as the carts took off down the railway. “Whoa! Whoohoo!” Lapis laughed as the carts sped through the Nether, “This is amazing!”

“It’s fun, right?” Emerl chuckled, “So a few Nether-Need-to-Knows. Number 1: don’t attack the pigmen. They won’t hurt you if you don’t hurt them. Number 2: Keep a distance from blazes and magma cubes – or lava accordions as I like to call ‘em. Number 3: Soul sand is the sandy brown stuff. That’ll slow you down if you step in it so be careful. And number 4: beware of-”

Emerl was cut off by a distant wail followed by shouting which was coming from up ahead. “…ghasts." Emerl finished with a sigh as she summoned her sword in one hand and held tightly onto the minecart with the other, “I should’ve known. You ready for a fight, kiddo?”

“Bring it on!” Lapis cheered.

This was gonna be fun!

To Be Continued…

#mcsm #mcsm origins #mcsm origins book I #minecraft story mode #minecraft #lapis lazul #emerl wyverk

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negasonicimagines · 6 years ago

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My One and Lonely

whew! this was intense! I’m really sorry if this doesn’t correctly fulfill these requests, folks! i tried!

1: “okay what about poly yukisonic x reader where the yukio, ellie, and the reader have started a new relationship, but the reader is unsure of it?? and Ellie and yukio just reassure thems?? basically I just want poly yukisonic x reader angst with a happy ending. : ')” 2: “Could you do a negasonic imagine where reader is her girlfriend and has telekinesis? And Wade takes any opportunity to tease the couple so reader constantly uses her powers to slam the door in Wades face?” [yeah i defo didn’t really fill this one but the reader has telekinesis and DOES slam the door in Wade’s face and I have so many requests bro... but I’d be willing to redo this if you’re not satisfied] TRIGGER WARNING for mentions and discussion of past abuse. the reader also almost has a panic attack. let me know if i missed anything

“You know, you could just talk to them about it,” Wade tells you, and your fork and book fall to the ground.

“Uh, no? I literally can’t, dude. Now my fork’s dirty.”

“Uh, yeah. You literally can, dude. And that’ll teach you to be lazy, using your powers for easy stuff like turning pages and eating. I bet the fork’s not that bad.”

“Like you wouldn’t do the same thing,” you scoff, and he shrugs, nodding.

“Come on. It’s totally normal for you to be feeling the way you are. They were friends and dating before you came into the picture. Insecurity’s normal. Especially considering-”

“Call me insecure one more time and I’ll use the dirty fork to show you just how insecure your eye’s placement in your skull is,” you threaten, feeling your face heat up. You didn’t like that your weakness was so obvious. Or that he reminded you of her.

“Christ, maybe I really am a bad influence...Nah, we’re just birds of a feather,” Wade says with a cheeky grin you don’t know how you can see through the mask. Maybe his tone of voice makes the subtle expression more perceivable. “Sorry,” he quickly adds. “But, seriously. They’re the last people who are gonna judge you.”

“Who’s the last people that are gonna judge Y/N?” You hear from behind you. Ellie. Shit. She made you far more nervous than Yukio did. Yukio was the gentle, sensitive moon, and Ellie… Ellie was the sun. Nuturing, yes, but scorching, too.

“Well-”

“No one. Not important. Right, Wade?” you plaster on a smile, fiddling with the fork in your hand before letting it float in the air. “Want the rest of my ramen? I’m not very hungry.”

“Uh, yeah, sure.”

“Catch,” you say, flinging the fork at him telepathically. He gasps sharply, but his reflexes are quick enough to grab it.

You get up, and notice Ellie looks a bit… gloomier than usual.

“Everything okay?” you ask, and she nods, her lips twitching into a small smile for you before quickly concealing the expression.

“Yeah, I’m alright. ‘Kio and I missed you at lunch, that’s all.”

“Well, I was, uh… Hanging out with Wade. Like you saw,” you explain.

“You didn’t seem very happy. He didn’t say anything to bother you, did he?”

“Oh, uh, no. I was just a bit stressed. Exams coming up and all that.”

“Exams are a couple months away,” Ellie reminds you. “But you were stressed, weren’t you? Look, if you’re having regrets, whatever, fine. I wouldn’t be happy about it and neither would Yukio, but you have a right to your feelings. Just don’t fucking lie to me, okay?”

“I- I promise it’s not about that. Really, I’m… Happy to be with you guys.”

“Then what is it? Seriously?”

You stiffen, you can tell she’s getting angry. Your heart feels like a stone in your chest, cracked and heavy.

“It’s nothing,” you say, not meeting her eyes.

“Alright. Keep your secrets, then,” Ellie sighs, walking away. You head to your room, locking the door behind you. Most students with telepathic abilities get their own rooms in an effort to avoid accidental harm of their fellow students. This was the case for you, and you used to like it.

But then, you met Ellie and Yukio. The two of them were already dating when you were officially introduced, and you became fast friends with them. It quickly evolved into more, and the three of you became what many refer to as a “throuple.”

The facet of the insecurity Wade so rudely talked of earlier was, of course, the fact that they were roommates, and you were alone every night. They got to cuddle and kiss and you got to watch ASMR.

It was depressingly lonely. Sure, every once in awhile you could get away with sleeping over on weekends. But, most of the time, the teachers monitored the rooms, making sure everyone was where they were supposed to be, in case of emergency.

But, wait, there’s more!

As mentioned previously, Ellie is the sun. Yukio is the moon. What are you in that?

And it didn’t help that you were still struggling to cope with the aftermath of her, a little over a year later.

Before you began your schooling at Xavier’s, you were friends with a small group of fellow mutants that were slowly drawn together by fate. One of these mutants was a girl. You can’t even bear to think her name.

Back then, you were only telepathically gifted. You hadn’t even dreamed you would be capable of telekinesis one day.

But she, she had super-strength, and she liked to use it on you. Even when you didn’t want her to.

You were defenseless.

You shake, pulling your knees to your chest.

“Hey, why’s the door locked? I thought we were all gonna work together on our art projects.” Yukio’s bright voice is muffled by the door.

“Uh, um, yeah, yeah, I’ll be there in a, um, sec,” you say, your breathing growing heavier and more fast-paced. “Actually, uh, you- you and Ellie sh...sh-should just go and, uh, go work on your projects t-together. I’ll- Yeah, I’ll, uh, figure mine out eventually.” Shit, I’m doing a terrible job at covering this up.

“You okay in there, bunny?” It was a cute nickname that Yukio liked to call both you and Ellie.

“Mmhmm, yeah. Just a bit, uh, very tired. Gonna take a nap soon.”

“Okay…” she says, and you know she doubts you. Failure.

“On second thought, uh, I’ll just go to bed early tonight. Let’s get to work,” you decide, unlocking and opening the door.

Upon opening the door, you notice Wade behind them.

“Didn’t realize you took Art, Wade.”

“You also didn’t realize that we planned for you to come to our room. You were supposed to show up twenty minutes ago, actually. So, we went to talk to Wade. Since you tell him everything these days,” Ellie says, pure bitterness in the mention of Wade. It wasn’t that she hated him. She hated that you told him and not her. Not even Yukio, who she’d admit was far more approachable than her.

“Sorry, kid,” he says. “They had a right to know.”

“You- You didn’t tell them about- About…” You feel your eyes widen, alarm racing through you slowly and quickly at the same time.

“No, not that. Not her. Just the other stuff.”

“Oh.”

“Her?” Ellie asks. “Cheating on us, seriously?”

“No,” you say, and it comes out as a whimper due to her angry tone. “I- I- This was a bad idea, Wade. You guys should just go, all three of you, I don’t feel well, I’m tired, I-”

“I’m gonna leave you kids to sort this out,” Wade tells you three. “Good luck.” He slowly backs away.

“Can you close the door?” Yukio asks, and you jolt, door slamming in Wade’s face.

“Yeah,” you say afterwards. This was becoming less stressful thinking and more panic attack by the moment.

“You’ve been avoiding us lately,” Yukio points out. “Wade already told us why, but… I want to hear it from you, ‘kay?”

“It’s nothing, I-” You take a careful, ragged breath, sitting on your bed. Yukio sits on the stool at your desk, and Ellie leans her back against the door. “I just don’t fit. I’ve never fit in anywhere, and I never will. All I’ve done trying is bother others. Especially Ellie and you.”

“You don’t fit?” Ellie asks. “What the fuck do you mean?”

“I- You’re the sun...Yukio’s the moon… And I’m just… I’m Pluto.” The last bit comes out as a shaky whisper. A large, hot tear rolls down your cheek swiftly.

“What?! No! No, bunny, you’re- You’re…” Yukio kneels in front of you, swiping your tear away with her thumb and keeping your sad face in her hand. “I can’t think of anything, but you’re not Pluto, baby.”

“The eclipse. You’re the eclipse, Y/N. Everything aligning perfectly so that we can be together,” Ellie says thoughtfully. “Is that all? You feel like you don’t have a place here, with us? You do. You’re what makes this whole thing work, okay? Now please, please tell me you didn’t cheat on us for validation.”

“The her comment, right…” you say, the temporary relief you felt by Ellie’s original statement subsiding. “No. I didn’t cheat, I swear. I’d never do that to you guys, to anyone. I… The last relationship I had before you guys was, um… Not the greatest. It was around a year ago, a little more. Before Xavier’s. Before I honed my abilities. There was a girl, a mutant like me. Like us. But she, uh… She had super-strength. And I wasn’t very physically strong, I was pretty weak, actually. So… You can probably see where I’m going with this, or I hope you do, because I don’t like talking about it, not at-” You finally dissolve into tears. “Not at all…”

Ellie rushes towards you to embrace you, and you flinch reflexively.

“I’m sorry. I was really thoughtless. Just now and for most of our interactions today,” Ellie admits. “I’m just… Things between me and ‘Kio weren’t the greatest, but we were trying because we knew we were meant to be together. And then you came along, and everything made sense. Everything finally fit together, perfectly. And- And I don’t wanna lose that. Ever.”

“Same here,” Yukio agrees. “You’re so great, Y/N. Wade said that you feel really lonely all by yourself in here. Maybe we should try to get you transferred to our room. Sometimes they let people room in groups of three, and they probably could use the extra room.”

“Yeah, but… It’d be kind of annoying to have me tagging along all the time,” you remind her.

Ellie’s eye twitches. “Tagging...Along?”

“That’s the phrase, isn’t it?” you ask.

She takes a deep, calming breath, and you watch her fingers move as she counts to ten on them silently. They’re both sitting with you on the bed, now.

“Ah-” Ellie clenches her teeth, hissing for a moment, as if she’s in pain. “Y/N, you’re just as much a part of this relationship as Yukio and I. What part of that is so hard for you to understand?”

“I- I don’t know. It’s just hard to believe. I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

“What shoes? There are no shoes here,” Yukio tells you. “I really only wear them because it’s frowned upon not to, and because if I didn’t then I’d pick up all sorts of nasty germs.”

Ellie nods in agreement. “Same.”

You sigh, knowing there’s no way to convince them of how worthless you are to the relationship. Maybe because to them, you aren’t?

“Hey, did you see that? I saw that. I think it’s clicking, ‘Kio.”

“I did see it,” Yukio agrees, and you smile a little at their antics, shaking your head. “Let me go to the office and get the room transfer forms. I’d love to stay, but I think you two cuties need to talk a bit… In private.”

Yukio exits.

“I’m...Sorry. For talking to Wade and not you guys. I shouldn’t have-”

“You’re allowed to confide in your friend. I shouldn’t have taken it as personally as I did. I just know there was a time, before we all got together romantically, where you would’ve talked to me or Yukio about something if it stressed you out that much. But I guess not… We didn’t know about her.”

“It’s just hard to even think about. I feel so ashamed all the time, I’m really sorry that I didn’t-”

“Seriously. You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to, and I feel seriously shitty that I was such an asshole about it. You have a right to privacy, as long as you’re not putting anyone or anything in danger. But, the anyone and anything includes you. Okay?”

“Okay,” you respond, and Ellie kisses your forehead, her dark brown eyes looking to yours before she places the softest kiss on your lips, carefully holding your face as if you were priceless and she didn’t want to risk breaking you. You lean into her, forehead on her shoulder.

“Let’s lay down. I owe you some cuddling. I hear I’m an excellent big spoon,” she tells you.

“From a biased source. Let’s try the sweetheart’s cradle,” you offer.

“What the fuck is the sweetheart’s cradle?”

“Honestly, I did far too much research into the perfect cuddle position, for the time it might actually happen.”

“We don’t really cuddle, do we? Yukio hasn’t really given you any cuddles either, has she? Wow, you’re really missing out- ...Oh. I’m so sorry,” Ellie apologizes, looking more heartbroken than determined with this one. She hadn’t realized the extent to which you were being neglected by them. “I’m sorry, doll. Really sorry.”

“Doll? That’s new,” you comment.

“I figured you deserved a petname of your own,” Ellie informs you. “Now, explain this ‘sweetheart’s cradle’ to me.”

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cwnerd12 · 7 years ago

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Forgiving

“Forgiving” Everyone meets in a meeting room (the council chamber is under construction), Asher in charge of everything. Asher, “Okay, David’s off in love-land, so it’s up to us to run the government for us for two weeks without turning Gilboa into a smoking crater.” Reinhardt, “So are you king?” Asher, “Uh, not really, but David did put me in charge.” Reinhardt, “If we need David, we can still reach him, right?” Asher, “He said to only call him if it’s an emergency, and by emergency, he means someone’s nuked Shiloh.” Abby, “It’s kind of really important that he and Jack get to relax and have some time together.” Shay, “He’s fuckin’ earned a break okay?” Asher, “I’m still supposed to call him and brief him every couple of days, so that would be the time to talk to him.” Reinhardt, “So what are we doing until David gets back?” Asher, “Ideally, nothing. Everything that’s supposed to happen will happen, and nothing new will come in and fuck everything up.” Rose speaks up, “Has there been any word from Warner or Gerald? They both thrive on being inconvenient.” Abby, “If they try anything, we’ll deal with them without bothering David.” Monique, “I do have one thing.” Asher, “What?” Monique, “The palace renovations are almost done, I think it would be a good idea to have some kind of public tour of the palace, preferably on TV. Rose, that would be your job. Didn’t you do something similar when Silas had the palace built?” Rose, “I don’t believe I’m the right one to give a tour of the new palace.” Monique, “Of course you aren’t. It’d be me and David. You need to set it up so we can do it as soon as David gets back.” Rose, “Very well.” Asher, “So, until something happens, that’s it.”

Asher sits in his office, reading some papers. There’s a knock at the door. Asher looks up, “Come in.” Betty, the girl who escaped from Nob with him, enters. Asher’s face lights up, “Betty.” Betty, “Hi, Rabbi.” Asher, “Please, just call me Asher. What are you doing here?” Betty, “Uh, I’m supposed to brief David every couple of weeks. I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do this week, so I guessed I’d just come in and brief you.” Asher, “I’ll send your reports in the briefs I send him.” Betty, “Oh, god, don’t send him extra work on his honeymoon because of me. Besides, there’s not a whole lot to report.” Asher, “What are you briefing him on?” Betty, “Minority religious rights in Ammon. Basically, it’s my job to tell David if Warner’s arresting Jews and Muslims again.” Asher, “Ooh, that’s hot-” he catches himself, “I, uh, I mean, that’s quite interesting.” Betty laughs, “Yeah, I really enjoy it.” Asher, “Doesn’t Warner also arrest Catholics?” Betty, “Every once and a while a priest or a nun will say something in favor of human rights and it doesn’t go well, but Abedon was the one who went after Catholics. Which is really weird considering that his wife was Catholic.” Asher, “Well, we saw what became of her.” His phone buzzes, and he takes a look at it, “Oh, shit.”

Asher, followed by Betty, goes back into the meeting room, where Abby watches a TV, Rose beside her. On the TV, Warner makes an announcement, “For fifteen years, King Silas Benjamin lied to the world. He said that Vesper Abedon was killed in the conquest of Carmel, but that is not true. Abedon is alive and well, and he has been held in the palace of Gilboa.” Asher, “Why is he doing this now?” Abby, “Because he’s an asshole.” Rose, “Speculation has been running rampant about what it was that David was offering Warner at Council, he had to make an announcement some time.” Abby, “Also, he’s an asshole.” Rose, “I knew he’d try to do it while David is gone, so I had a statement drawn up last week. You don’t need to do anything, unless he wants to start negotiations.” Asher, “You’d better get to making that statement.” Abby, “Who’s gonna be the one to tell him?” Asher, “I can’t do it, I’m Jewish.” Abby, “I’m gay!” Rose, “I have a statement to make.” She gets up and leaves. Abby, “You’re the one who’s in charge, Asher.” Asher, “But you’ve already talked to him!” Abby, “And I don’t want to fucking do it again.” Betty speaks up, “I’ll go with you, Asher.”

Asher and Betty stand in an elevator while Asher frets. Betty, “Didn’t he have kids?” Asher, “What?” Betty, “I’m pretty sure Abedon had kids. What ever happened to them?” Asher, “Oh, god, I don’t know. I’ve heard a lot of conspiracy theories. Can you fucking imagine just trying to live your life knowing that you’re an Abedon?” The elevator opens and they get out. They go down into the dungeons, and then stop outside Vesper’s cell. Asher, “You ready?” Betty, “Go for it.” Asher opens the door. Vesper looks up, “Yes?” Asher and Betty both stare awkwardly at him. Asher, “Uh, Warner just announced that uh… you’re alive.” Vesper, “Ah, yes, I was expecting that. Thank you for letting me know.” He continues his work. Asher and Betty exchange curious looks. Asher looks at Vesper’s papers, and sees Hebrew written across them. He steps forward, and picks up a paper, “You mis-translated this.” Vesper glances up at him, “Oh? Do you know ancient Hebrew?” Asher, “I’m a Rabbi. I fuckin’ dream in ancient Hebrew.” He looks at Vesper and says something filthy in Hebrew. Vesper chortles heartily, “I usually don’t come across that kind of language in my work.” Asher, “I’ll leave you to it, then.” He goes back to the door. Betty follows him, and they leave.

Back in the elevator, Betty says, “Well, that was creepy.” Asher, “Yeah, no shit.” Betty, “It’s so weird that he’s like… normal.” Asher, “What did you expect?” Betty, “I dunno, something more disturbing.” The door dings open, and they get off. Asher, “I’ve got to get back to work.” Betty, “Yeah, me, too.” Asher starts to leave, but Betty says, “Listen um, there’s this restaurant that just opened, their thing is super high-end kosher food. Would you want to have dinner there some night?” Asher stares at her. Betty, “Y’know, in case you want to have waygu that’s been blessed by a rabbi.” Asher, “That sounds great! I’d love to!” Betty smiles, “Okay.”

Out in the lobby, as Asher leaves for the evening, a man has a heated argument with a security guard, “Why are you protecting him?! That sick fuck killed my family!” Security guard, “We can’t just let people into the palace.” Asher approaches, “Can I help with something here?” Man, “I want to see Vesper Abedon!” Asher, “I’m afraid you can’t do that.” Man, “I spent fifteen years believing that motherfucker has gotten what he deserved, and today I found out he’s been alive, being fed, with a roof over his head! I’m here to do what King Silas never could!” Asher, “Well, unfortunately, we need Abedon alive to be able to do something else Silas never could, and make peace with Ammon.” Man, “So Warner can just hang him and he dies quickly? No fucking way. Not without pain!” Security guard, “I’m sorry, sir, if you don’t leave, you’re going to be removed.” Asher steps away, “I’m sorry, I can’t help you.” Man, “Bullshit! I have fucking earned this!” Asher turns around and leaves as security guards wrestle the man to the ground.

That evening, in his apartment, Asher calls David. David, “Hey, what’s up?” The sound of laughing and playing in the background. Asher, “Uh, just wanted to let you know, today-” David interrupts him, “Can you hold on a sec?” a pause, and David yells away from the phone, “KNOCK IT OFF, will you?! I’m trying to get briefed!” The sound of Jack laughing. Asher sighs impatiently. David, “Okay what is it?” Asher, “Warner announced that Abedon’s still alive.” David, “Okay, is there anything that I need to do?” Asher, “Nah, we’ve got it handled, you go back to whatever it is you’re doing.” David, “Thanks, man!” Asher, “Okay, bye.” He ends the conversation. There’s a knock at his door, and he answers it. Betty stands there in a cute little dress, “Hi.” Asher, astonished, “Wow, you look… wow!” Betty, “Better than some old clothes that haven’t been washed in months, huh?” Cut to: Asher and Betty have dinner in a nice restaurant. Betty, “Yeah, my parents weren’t really thrilled about me joining the AFG. It wasn’t even the AFG at that point, just some vague resistance movement. Once David took over, they seemed to be impressed with it, though.” Asher, “You have no idea how many times I’ve had to kick his ass into doing the right thing.” Betty laughs, but then grows more serious, “It’s been hard, getting used to y’know, having a normal. I’ve been going to temple and observing shabbat, but I still can’t get rid of the feeling in my gut that I shouldn’t get comfortable, that I’m going to have to get up and leave again soon.” Asher, “I know that feeling.” Betty, “Have you been back to Nob?” Asher, “What?” Betty, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t ask.” Asher, “No, no, that’s okay. And, no, I haven’t been.” Betty, “I don’t understand how you can just work with Reinhardt every day.” Asher, “The raid at Nob was done by the army, not the MSS.” Betty, “The MSS had to tell the army where we were.” Asher, “Honestly, I just try not to think about it. He had a job, and he did it.” Betty, “The Nuremberg defense.” Asher, “David trusts him, for whatever reason, and I trust David. I try not to think about it.” Betty, “I went to visit my parents last week, and as I came home, out of nowhere, I got hit with this immense feeling go guilt. Like, why do I get to visit my parents when so many people out there don’t?” Asher, “There is no answer to that.” Betty, “Yeah, I know. Anyway, I’ve kind of been fixated on the subject of parents since then. I keep thinking about Abedon’s kids. How are they reacting to all this? Do they even know that he’s their father? And if they don’t, are they better off not knowing?” Asher, “Those are all excellent questions.” Betty, “What if they want to see see him again?” Asher, “He murdered their mother.” Betty, “Love and loyalty are weird things. They defy all logic. It just doesn’t seem fair to me to just hand him off to Ammon without giving them at least the chance to make some sort of peace.”

Asher goes into Vesper’s cell and sits down. Vesper, “Can I help you, Rabbi?” Asher, “You killed your wife.” Vesper, “Yes.” Asher, “Why?” Vesper, “That’s a question best left to scholars-” Asher interrupts, “That’s bullshit, you had a motive, what is it?” Vesper stares at him, and then says, “I was doing God’s work. Gilboan forces were at the doors of our compound. Esperanza wanted to surrender, but I would surrender only to God. The children’s souls were pure and innocent. I knew God would let them into His kingdom. Esperanza stood in front of the door.” Asher, “Jesus fucking christ, you are sick!” Vesper, “You asked.” Asher, “What happened to them?” Vesper, “I don’t know. For fifteen years, Silas never told me.” Asher, “How old were they?” Vesper, “My oldest, Mercy, was eleven. The youngest, Gabriel, was just a baby.” Asher, “What would you say to them, if you saw them again?” Vesper, “That I was wrong, and I don’t deserve their forgiveness.”

Asher approaches Thomasina’s desk, “What happened to Vesper Abedon’s children?” Thomasina, “Why do you want to know?” Asher, “Because I just fucking do.” Thomasina, “I’m not at liberty to tell you.” Asher, “I will call David right now and tell him to order you to tell me. I know you don’t want to interrupt his honeymoon.” Thomasina gives him a dirty look, and then says, “They were given new identities and adopted into Gilboan families.” Asher, “Where are they now?” Thomasina, “I don’t know.” Asher, “That’s bullshit, Silas kept every string he could pull.” Thomasina, “Why do you want to know, anyway? It’s no business of yours.” Asher, “Because I just do! If I had one last chance to speak to my parents…” he drifts of. He exchanges looks with Thomasina, “Just tell me where they are, okay?”

Asher takes Betty into a coffee shop. Betty, “Okay, seriously, why are we going all the way across town just to get coffee?” Asher, “They have something here that I think you’ll be interested in.” They step inside. Asher pulls a photograph out of his jacket pocket: The Abedons, Vesper, Esperanza, and five children, smiling and happy. Asher looks from the photograph to the barista, a beautiful young woman with dark hair. They go up to her. Barista, “What can I get for you today?” Asher looks her over nervously, and then quietly says, “Are you Mercy Abedon?” Cut to: Mercy sits with Asher and Betty at a quiet table. She eyes them with harsh suspicion, “King Silas used to visit my every once and a while. He told me to keep quiet and refused to tell me anything about my brothers and sisters. Is this more of the same?” Asher, “No.” Mercy, “What the fuck do you want, then?” Asher, “I know where your siblings are.” He hands her the photograph. A sob escapes from Mercy’s mouth, and she covers her mouth with her hand, as if to push it back in. Asher, “Your father is in custody at the palace. I want to give you and your siblings the chance to see him one last time.” Mercy, “I held my baby brother in my arms and tried to stop his crying while I listened to my father murder my mother.” Asher, “Would you like to see your brother again?” Marcy, quietly, “Does he even know who I am?” Asher, “He was given a new identity, just like you. He’s lived his whole life with that identity. I don’t know if he knows the truth.” Mercy, “He’s lucky, then. I’ve had so many times when I wished I could just zap the memories of my parents straight out of my head. It’s a godawful burden, a name like Abedon.” Asher, “Then we’ll leave your siblings alone.” Mercy, “I didn’t say I don’t want to see them.”

Asher sits in his office. Abby enters, “What the fuck are you doing, looking for Abedon’s children?” Asher, “Did Thomasnina snitch on me?” Abby goes over and puts her hands on his desk, “You don’t know what kind of shit you’re stirring up.” Asher, “I’m not forcing anyone to do anything.” Abby, “What exactly are you doing?” Asher, “I want to give his children the chance to forgive him.” Abby, “Forgive him?!” Asher, “He’s repentant! He knows he was wrong!” Abby, “I’m sorry isn’t going to un-murder their mother!” Asher, “They deserve to know, and to see each other again.” Abby, “Is this some kind of weird bullshit about your parents?” Asher, “And what if it is?” Abby, dismayed, “Oh my god, Asher!” Asher, “What? I’ve already talked to Mercy.” Abby, “What?!” Asher, “She wants to see her siblings. She at least deserves that.” Abby, “Okay, but I’m gonna be there to try to salvage shit when it all goes south.” Asher, “You should probably have Michelle there, too.” Abby, “Why?” Asher, “Someone has to apologize on behalf of Silas.”

Gabriel Abedon, (Jake Hearn), 15, walks into the lobby of the palace with his parents, Vince and Jackie. They look around in amazement at the work that’s being done, and approach the front desk. Jackie, “We’re here for the adoptee event today.” The receptionist, “Certainly, just a second. What’s your name?” Jackie, “We’re the Hearns.” The receptionist picks up a phone and presses a number, “The Hearns are here.” Vince whispers to Gabriel, “Pretty cool, huh?” Gabriel, “Yeah.” The receptionist speaks up, “Right this way.” Cut to: The Hearns are led into a room where Asher waits for them. Asher steps up, “Hi, You must be Jake Hearn. I’m Rabbi Asher Levinson.” Gabriel goes up to him and shakes his hand, “You’re the one who administered the oath for King David, right?” Asher, “Yeah, that’s me.” Gabriel, “Cool!” Asher, “Please, have a seat.” The Hearns sit down, and Asher sits across from them. Gabriel, “What am I here for?” Jackie, “We were told it had something to do with adoption.” Asher, “Yes, it is. Do you know anything about Jake’s birth family?” Jackie and Vine look at each other nervously, “No.” Asher, “I brought Jake here today because he was identified as a member of a family that was broken up. He has siblings, who are also here, today.” Gabriel, “I do?” Asher, “Yes, and you can meet them if you like.” Gabriel, uneasy, “Oh, wow, I- I really dunno what to say.” Asher, “Before you were adopted by the Hearns, your name was Gabriel. Gabriel Abedon.” Vince, “Abedon?” Asher, “Yes. Jake’s birth parents are Vesper and Esperanza Abedon.” Jackie, “That’s not possible, the adoption agency would have told us-” Asher interrupts, “The adoption agency was told to lie and keep quiet.” He pulls a photograph out of his pocket, “I have a photograph. Would you like to see?” Jake nods numbly, and Asher hands him the photo. Jackie takes on look at it, gasps dramatically, and turns away. Vince, “I’m sorry, but this just can’t be true. I fought in Carmel, I saw first-hand was Abedon did. Jake’s a good kid! He’s nice! He has friends! He volunteers at the animal shelter! He’s not a monster like Abedon!” Jackie whispers, “Vince, look at the picture. That’s him. You know it is.” She hugs Gabriel, “This doesn’t change anything. We still love you so much. You’re our son, and you’re a good person, Jake.” Gabriel, numbly, “I love you, too.”

In another room, Mercy sits. The door opens, and Abby, Betty, and Michelle lead in Elías, 23, Isobel, 21, and Amada, 18. Elías stares at Mercy, and tears well in his eyes, “Mercy?” Mercy rushes up to him, and hugs him tightly, “Te extrañe. Te extrañe mucho.” Elías, “Mercy!” Isobel turns to Abby, “I had two brothers. Where’s the other one?” Abby, “He’s coming.” Mercy goes over to Isobel and Amada, “My name is Mercy. Do you remember me?” Isobel, “A little bit.” Amada, “I just remember that my name was Amada.” The door opens once again, and Asher leads in Gabriel. He stares at his siblings, still numb with shock. Asher looks at Michelle, who steps forward. Michelle, “First of all, I’d like to apologize on behalf of my father for breaking you all up and keeping you in the dark for so long. I know what it’s like to be denied a sibling. I know that no words can undo the years you’ve missed together. But hopefully you can start something today.” Abby, “If you want to, you can go and see your father. He’s here in the palace, but I don’t know for how much longer. I expect a deal will be made with King Warner once King David returns from his honeymoon.” Elías looks at Mercy, “Do you want to see him?” Mercy, “I don’t know.” Abby, “That’s okay. You can take some time to make up your mind. In the meantime, I’m not sure what names I should refer to you all as. You’re free to identify yourselves however you want when you leave the palace. We’ll provide you with any forms and documentations you need to make it legal. Do you prefer your adoptive name, or your birth name?” Mercy, “I think, while I’m here, I’ll be Mercy.” Elías, “Elías.” Isobel and Amada look at each other, and smile. They each repeat their names. Asher looks at Gabriel, “Do you have a preference?” Gabriel looks at him, and snaps out of his trance, “What the FUCK! I thought I was just a war orphan!” Asher, “Do you need a moment?” Gabriel looks around for a moment, and then bolts out the door. Asher tries to follow him. Out in the hallway, Gabriel turns and yells, “Leave me the fuck alone!” Asher stops. Gabriel reaches the end of the hallway, turns around in dismay, leans against the wall, and slowly sinks to the ground. Mercy, followed by everyone else, comes up behind Asher. Abby steps forward nervously, “Do you need anything?” Gabriel looks at her, dismayed. Slowly, Mercy approaches him, and then sits down beside him. She puts her hand over his. He looks at her, and sees that they share the same features. Elías, Isobel, and Amada go over and join them. They sit together in silence.

Asher leads the Abedons down the dungeon hallway. Mercy holds Gabriel’s hand tightly. They stop outside of Vesper’s cell. Asher, “Are you ready?” Mercy nods. Asher goes in to see Vesper, “Your children are here.” Vesper looks up in astonishment, “My children?” Asher nods, “Do you want to see them?” Vesper’s eyes fill with tears, “Please.” He stands, and his children file into his cell. Michelle, Abby, and Betty stand behind them, watching. He gasps and looks at them in awe. Mercy, “Hi, Dad.” Vesper lowers himself to his knees, “My children, my children… I am sorry. I am so profoundly sorry. I don’t deserve your forgiveness. I deserve no one’s forgiveness.” Mercy wipes away a tear, “God says to forgive.” Asher, “You don’t have to forgive.” Everyone looks at him. He goes on, “Forgiveness isn’t just a favor that you give out. It’s hard. It hurts. People spend their entire live struggling to forgive, and they can’t. Sometimes, it’s just impossible. The mouth says I forgive while the heart stays angry. That’s what destroys the soul. Don’t forgive because it’s asked of, or expected of you. Forgive because you’ve struggled with it. Forgive because you want to.” Michelle holds on to Abby’s hand. Mercy, “I need time.”

In Jack and David’s apartment, David serves up dinner for Abby and Michelle while Jack looks on, beaming. David, “It was nothing but non-stop hedonism. We were taking NAPS all over the place. Absolutely unthinkable levels of depravity. We spent a whole day watching a Chopped marathon! We went on picnics, and there was this fantastic lake, we did a lot of swimming!” Jack, “Skinny dipping.” David, “And we went out on a boat and I caught us some fish and fried ‘em for dinner that night.” Jack, “Providing." Michelle, “Such decadence.” Jack, “It was great!” David, “I swear, as soon as we got there, Jack’s speech started getting better. He was telling me stories the whole time. Stories!” Jack, “Easier, just you.” Abby, “Well, tomorrow, we get to negotiate handing Abedon over to Warner. So that’ll be fun.” David, “Oh, come on, don’t talk about work now.” Abby, “Asher found his kids. Brought them to the palace.” David, “Seriously? How did that go?” Abby shrugs, “Okay, I guess. It’s hard to tell if that sort of thing is good or bad. How’d you feel if you got invited to the palace only to be told that you’re the child of a mass-murderer?” Michelle, “I have to give it to Asher, though, he handled it pretty well.” Abby, “Yeah, he did.” David, “So does that mean we can just hand him over?” Abby, “Not unless Warner gives us something in return.” David, “Okay. I kinda hate to do it. Vesper, he- he’s unusual.” Abby, “We have to make peace with Ammon.” David, “Yeah, I know. And we will.” Cut to: David sees Abby and Michelle off, “You two have a good night, okay?” Michelle pauses and looks at him, “David.” David, “Yeah?” Michelle hesitates a moment, and then says, “I forgive you.” David, “What? Why?” Michelle, “Because I just fucking do, okay?” David, “Okay. Thanks.” Michelle, “Good night, David.” David, “Good night.” He shuts the door.

In the treaty room, Abby stands next to David, Warner and his diplomat, Bernard, across from them. Abby, “We will agree to let you keep a small portion of Carmel, the same portion as was agreed to when we first arrived in Ammon. In exchange for the return of Gilboan territory, we will hand over Vesper Abedon.” Bernard, “We agreed to peace, not an exchange of territory.” Abby, “Then Abedon will remain in Gilboan custody. This isn’t up for debate.” Warner looks at Abby and David and shakes his head, “God does favor you, David. How else could such an enormous advantage just fall into your lap without you even knowing about it?” David, “That was Silas, not God. Are you going to agree to our offer, or not?” Warner gives him a scrutinizing look, and then says, “I’ll sign your treaty. Vesper will be brought back to Ammon and hanged before sundown tomorrow.” David, “Very well, then.”

(“Shadow” Celia Pavey) In his cell, Vesper goes down the line of his children, hugging them and kissing their cheeks in turn. Gabriel stands stoically and accepts his embrace without emotion. Vesper comes to Mercy last. Vesper, “Do you forgive me?” Mercy, “Not yet, but I’m working on it.” Vesper’s eyes fill with tears, and he hugs her. She hugs him back. Out in the hallway, David, Abby, and Asher stand waiting, Warner, Bernard, and a group of Ammonian soldiers beside them. Vesper steps out of his cell, and the soldiers put him in handcuffs. Warner takes in a deep victorious breath, puffing up his chest, “May God have mercy on your soul, Vesper.” Vesper, “May God have mercy on yours,” he turns to David, “I thank you for your hospitality, King David,” he looks at Asher, “I thank you for your gift, Rabbi Levinson,” he turns back to Warner, “let’s go, then.” The soldiers lead him away. The Abedon children exit the cell, and watch Vesper be taken down the hallway. Outside the palace, furious crowds gather, waving signs, chanting furiously, demanding to see the monster Abdeon. David pushes the front doors open, and Warner and Vesper exit behind him. Vesper blinks in the sunlight, the soldiers still holding tightly to his manacles. The crowd roars for vengeance. Warner walks towards the crowd, a number of security guys in front of him. They begin making their way through the multitude, the security guys clearing the way. The soldiers escort Vesper as he follows behind Warner. Bottles and rocks fly at him. The man who was there earlier demanding to see him spits at him. Still, Vesper carries his head high, with dignity. Warner stands by the open back of a police van, and gestures for Vesper to get in. Vesper follows. He looks back out into the crowd one last time, and sees David, still looking out at him. The doors shut, and the van drives away. In the palace, The Abedon siblings hold on to each other, determined to stay strong.

A tombstone: Leo and Nora Levinson. Asher and Betty stand holding hands, looking down at it. Asher weeps and recites the Kaddish. When he’s done, they both lay stones on the graves. They walk away, still holding hands.

#Kings

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kafkasgods · 4 years ago

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adam hudson and the quest of athena

tw suicide, abuse, eye horror/injury, physical punishment, fire, death

[[SCENE ONE]]

Even when Adam trekked on at dawn, leaving Epinieos behind, he had no clue what was in store for him. Athena hadn’t felt inclined to tell him anything beyond the fact that she had something long term in mind for him and where to meet her for more information. It wasn’t hard to find her considering the forest beyond the borders didn’t have any other olive trees. When he found the tree, he approached, slowing his steps, waiting for the goddess to appear. Adam paused when she didn’t. There was a rustle behind him and he turned, hand on his cross, ready to pull out a sword.

A dark-haired guy around his age, maybe older, stepped from behind from branches he was swatting away. “Holy shit,” he muttered as he brushed the debris from his jacket. Apparently he was too caught up in himself to notice Adam, and when he did, his brows set downwards in confusion. “Hey, you fixed my car.”

Adam gave a slow nod. “Probably.” Trying to place the guy was a moot effort. “Are you here for something?”

“I’m pretty sure I’m going on the quest with you unless you’re here for no goddamn reason.” The guy was a bit on the rough side, but he was straightforward enough and Adam could work with that. “I’m Murphy Fiennes, son of Aphrodite. You?” The pomade in Murphy’s hair that held his well-done curls was enough to let Adam know that.

“Adam Hudson, son of Ares, legacy of Hephaestus. Nice to meet you.” Idly, Adam wondered why Murphy hadn’t been surprised to see him.

Before he could mull on the thought, Athena stood before him. The form she was in was different from the last one, but he knew it was her. The steely gray eyes were the same. “Adam. Murphy.” She addressed cooly. Adam’s back straightened at her attention, while Murphy raised a hand in greeting. [1:24 PM] “I appreciate you both being here and accepting my request of you despite the conflict of your own parentage. That in mind, what I ask has very much to do with the helm.”

If Adam were a dog, his ears would have been pricked forward at the words that had left her lips.

“Sides have been drawn, naturally, but the problem is that who is on my side isn’t as veracious as I hope.” The eyes she had on Adam somehow made him feel a weight compress against his chest. Was that just something she did innately? “I would like you both to attend to Hephaestus' Forge.” Finally, she turned her gaze from them and stared at the olives above. “I have reason to believe he might have stolen the helm to set me up.”

“Why would he do that?” Interrupting Athena, Murphy had every ounce of arrogance any good-looking person had and it was bothering Adam more than usual.

“My half-brother despises Ares more than he cares for me. But that is none of your concern. All I require of you two is to search his domain for the helm or see if he has anything to do with it.”

For the first time, Adam spoke. “You want me to spy on my grandfather?” Nothing about him said espionage. It felt traitorous.

Athena’s eyes dropped to him. “Who are you loyal to, Adam Hudson? If it is not to me, then why are you here?”

“I am,” Adam stressed. “I’m goin—”

“Then if you are, you would see that I do not ask stupid things for stupid reasons. You are not spying on Hephaestus, you are clearing his name. Just as you are trying to clear your father’s name. Isn’t that the reason you are really here?”

The force she spoke with was hard to argue or even defend himself against. Adam swallowed, choosing to remain unmoving. It was enough of an answer for her. [1:24 PM] “Good. Despite being a child of Ares, Hephaestus will take to you as you are his grandchild. And Murphy, your charmspeak has always been a certain weakness against him. If either of you are caught, you must not tell him of whom your quest had originated from. Neither of you, I imagine, are keen on the war escalating by your hand and that would no doubt happen if he discovers I sent you.”

“Got it.” Murphy saluted.

Adam didn’t hesitate this time. “I swear on the River Styx.”

For once, Athena seemed to be pleased with him and she wished him good luck before disappearing.

Setting off on their journey now, Murphy lightly elbowed Adam. “I can’t believe you had to one up me in front of Athena.”

“I can’t believe you interrupted her.”

Murphy grinned and took a larger stride than Adam, setting out to lead. “Well, anyways! Where even is Heph’s Forge?”

The answer amused Adam as the crestfallen look on Murphy was predictable. “Under a volcano.”

[[SCENE TWO]]

It took four days to get to the workshop, which was actually great time. A few monsters had come out of the woodwork for them, but between him and Murphy, they were holding their own well. It surprised Adam how quick he took to his chatty companion, but it was hard not to feel appreciative of someone sharing in the same life and death experience.

“I know we’ve talked about this before, but do you think it’s going to be terrible in our rooms? I feel like it’s going to be terrible.” Even as they squeezed through boulders and slipped through the crevice of the volcano, Murphy had to talk. “Honest to Gods, it’s going to be a slab of rock and lava covering the walls. I can’t sleep in the heat. I get so sweaty. Adam, Adam. I get sweaty.” [1:24 PM] “Pretty bold of you to assume he’s even gonna give us rooms.” That was a possibility, but Adam wasn’t going to let it happen anyways.

“What can I say—” A piece of the path broke off under Murphy’s foot, revealing the magma underneath and showing them how thin the layer they were walking on was. His voice shook, “I’m an optimist.”

From across the way, Adam heard a familiar voice. “Adam.”

Turning his carefully, Adam saw Hephaetus standing along another path, appearing smeared with grime and looking as if he was on his way from one project to another.

“Hi. Give me a sec.”

Having Hephaestus watching them made even Murphy scuttle forward with haste. Finally, they reached him and Adam took the lead in greeting them.

“Hi sir. I know this was unexpected and rude, but I was actually hoping that I could apprentice under you for some time. I just graduated college and I thought taking some time to learn from you was the right thing to do. I don’t plan on burdening you any more than that and if all you wanted to do was tell me to do things, I can do that too.” Adam was polite and straight to the point. He didn’t know his grandfather beyond some shared conversation in a Lowe’s warehouse, but Hephaestus had always appeared to appreciate that in him. Their talks, after all, had never broached beyond mechanics. [1:25 PM] Hephaestus was silent, lips pursed as he stared down at Adam. Then he jerked his chin towards Murphy. “And him?”

“I’m Murphy!”

“He’s a friend. He didn’t want me coming alone.” That sounded a little pathetic. “Things have been more dangerous recently.” That was a little better.

“I’d really love it if you could let us stay. Mostly me. I’m hoping for a sauna room.”

Hephaestus didn’t need to hear anything more from him. “Aphrodite’s kid. What a pair you two are,” he spoke under his breath. For a moment, it looked like he wanted to say no, but he began walking and gave a quick gesture to follow.

“Why do you call him ‘sir’?” Murphy whispered as they trailed after the god. [1:25 PM] [[SCENE THREE]]

It was hard to say how long they’d been there. Time moved differently in the cave. Not for any special reason besides not having a sky overhead to regulate their body clocks. But things were good for the most part.

Hephaestus didn’t spend a lot of time with Adam in the beginning, but he seemed to have warmed up to him a little, lingering nearby whenever Adam struggled with his task. Even though Ares was the one who took on his adopted dad’s form, he couldn’t help but be reminded of him with Hephaestus. It’d been a long time since Adam really got to hang out with his dad—First, he had to go to Camp Halfblood, then he had to live in Epineios. That didn’t leave a lot of room besides long visits. So he missed this. He missed not having to be the one in control.

But that was just something he pretended in brief moments because Adam had other, bigger responsibilities. The workshop was huge and it almost felt like Adam would never finish looking. He was just glad Murphy was here to share half the work. They’d split up locations to go through and they’d convene at night in their shared room.

“I think the helm is here, Adam,” Murphy whispered in a low voice, across his own bed.

They hadn’t heard or found anything about the helm since they got there. This was a first and had Adam alert.

“What’d you mean?” Adam asked, already frowning, lowering the shirt he was folding. [1:25 PM] “I was in the boiler room and I overheard Alkon tell Eurymedon that Ares is going to get what’s coming to him. That Hephaestus is gonna make sure of it.”

That more than put Adam on edge. He hesitated, taking a moment to think of a plan on how to go forward.

“It’d be so dumb if he took it.” Murphy muttered. “You know? Like just ‘cause he has beef with Ares, is there really a point to starting a civil war and getting everyone involved?”

Adam stayed silent.

“I just think this whole war thing is stupid and there’s no reason Athena would do anything bad because she’s like, the brains, you know?”

Adam bit his cheek.

“Her whole thing is like fairness and justness. Dude—” Murphy hit Adam’s knee, making him look up. “I feel like I’ve been talking to a tree all this time. Why don’t you ever say what you think about anything?”

It seemed to come out of nowhere, but it was probably because Adam had been too lost in thought. He took in Murphy’s frustration and he could tell it’d been something that had been stewing. “You know, I don’t like to talk unnecessarily, Murphy.”

Murphy rolled his eyes and he was about to say something, but Adam continued to the other boy’s pleasure.

“The war is stupid. All war is. I want to find the helm and end it.”

“Oh yeah, if you find it, I bet your dad would make you immortal or something. You’d have to get rewarded for ending a fucking war.” Murphy sighed, dramatically. “I bet Athena would get us something nice when we get back. I heard some dude got a flamethrower once, but like, a crazy indestructible one or something.”

Adam finished folding the shirt and put it off to the side. They still had to think and plan something out, but they couldn’t do anything right now.

“I thought you wanted to meet your mom.”

The perpetual grin on Murphy’s face faded. There was a pause. “Well, what do you think the fucking flamethrower is for?” [1:25 PM] The question ended in a cackle that made Adam snort. Murphy’s opinion of Aphrodite had swayed every other day, but it wasn’t hard for Adam to tell where Murphy really stood about it. After all, a person wasn’t ambivalent about things for nothing.

“So what are you going to do with all that glory? Are you finally going to get a girlfriend? Boyfriend? Themfriend?” Murphy raised his index finger stopping Adam from speaking. His gaze was flat and unamused. “Or are you gonna get a cat? One you didn’t find off the street.”

“You know, you have a lot of perceptions of me. More than I’d like any person to have. I might get a cat, but I’d have to check in with Audrey. And even then, our stray might not care for a friend. Besides that, I don’t care about anything else. I’ll do what I have to do to end the war so we can all stop worrying about each other.”

Murphy gave Adam an uncertain look. “That always kind of confused me about you. I really thought Ares kids were supposed to thrive in conflict or something. You don’t seem like any Ares kids I know.”

Adam flexed his hand. “You might be getting it confused with just having the ability to manipulate rage. But yeah, I get that a lot.” Frankly, he was never sure how to feel about whether it was a good thing or a bad one. It always felt insulting either way. “I do,” Adam answered.

“Do what?”

“I do like conflict. I like...Not holding back. There’s a rush of adrenaline and freedom that’s hard to recreate. I like pushing things too far. I like hitting things until something bleeds. I want things to hurt. I have for a long time.”

There was a silence between them before Murphy spoke again. “You sound kind of like a psycho.” [1:25 PM] Adam gave Murphy a small smile. “Yeah, well, it runs in my blood in more ways than one. But that’s part of the reason I stop myself.”

Murphy tapped his fingers along his chin, feigning a caricature of a therapist. “Go on.”

It really was nice to have Murphy here with him in the trenches. The months would have been more bleak if he were alone. Murphy was his friend now. Maybe his closest one, even if he wasn’t Murphy’s.

Giving a small laugh, Adam stretched up, giving a slight reprieve from its tenseness. “I used to get the shit beaten out of me when I was a kid. Everyone in my family is trash.” Adam collapsed backwards on his bed, staring up at the dark slate ceiling. “I don’t want to be like that. I want to be better.”

Through his peripheral Adam could see Murphy staring at him. His next words made Adam choke back a laugh: “I wish you were gay.” He grinned. “Or you know, something close to it.”

“Who knows, I haven’t really thought about it.”

“What do you mean you haven’t thought about it? Everyone thinks about it. Well, not everyone, but you get what I’m saying.”

“I get it. I just know I’m not in that place yet.” The more specific answer was an amalgamation of reasons Adam just couldn’t sort and didn’t think it was important enough to try to.

Murphy nodded and turned over on his bed to face Adam. “I guess. Does that mean you haven’t kissed anyone?”

Adam raised a hand as he settled back into his bed, pulling the covers over himself. “We’re not that close, Murphy.”

“Oh, so you want to kiss me?”

“I’m not in your league.”

“Yeah, that’s true. Also I’m not gay.”

“Murphy, what?” [1:25 PM] “I have a girlfriend. I’m just a straight dude who likes to talk and occasionally assumes all my friends are in love with me. Clearly, Adam.” Murphy’s eyes were closed, relaxed, so he couldn’t see Adam squinting over in the dark. “Anyways I just like lying.”

Somehow they had circled back to the pointless jabber Murphy liked and Adam gave an amused breath of air as a reply before he turned over to face the wall.

“Maybe I’ve been lying to you the whole time. Maybe my name isn’t even my name. It’s probably Steve or something. Or Zack, like from Saved by the Bell—Did you hear about Screech?”

“Goodnight Steve.”

“Hey, actually. I think tomorrow while you’re with Hephaestus, I can try talking to the Kabeiroi Boys. They’re pretty good to charmspeak. I’ll let you know from there what I’ve got. You’re doing all the hard manual labor anyways.”

The gears in his head were turning, going over the idea. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

“Of course it does. Night Adam.”

“You’re a good partner.”

“I have a girlfriend.”

Adam laughed again into the dark before finally letting himself doze off. [1:26 PM] [[SCENE FOUR]]: MURPHY’S POV

It was easy to make up the lie to Adam the next day—that it’d only been a prank Hephaestus was planning on Ares, a false alarm. Of course, Murphy hadn’t actually found anything. It was just that Adam really didn’t share enough for him to figure the guy out.

The talk with Adam had given Murphy a little more perspective. It was enough to let him know that Adam was probably in the clear. There was still a niggling of doubt coming from the admission of hate he had fessed up to, but that’d been the only thing. Murphy was about 90% sure his companion didn’t have the helm and though Adam had thought they should clear Hephaestus now, Murphy insisted on staying a little longer to give time for Adam to convince him of the other ten.

Despite Adam’s impression, Murphy’s own quest was different from his. He’d known it from the start when Athena had come to him and told him how she suspected the son of Ares. She sent him with Adam on the chicanery of a quest to read into the real suspect. There weren’t supposed to be any hiccups to his quest unless Adam really did have the helm—He didn’t think Adam would get caught in the Dupe Quest.

Adam stumbled into the room Murphy was in, Hephaestus following behind, an imposing figure. Murphy remembered a miniscule warmth to them when he talked with Adam, but it was gone now. The gaze on his face was as hard and black as coal.

“What am I supposed to do with two liars? Arrogant demigods who’ve come into my home and rifle through my things? I should have known. You are your father—Despicable.”

Murphy turned to Adam, staring at him with wide eyes, trying to ask for an explanation. How’d he get caught? What had happened? The other boy just stared forward, jaw locked.

“Well?” Hephaestsus looked between them. “Did you find what you were looking for? What was it? Who sent you?” [1:26 PM] Adam wasn’t saying anything, so Murphy stepped up, raising his hands. “We weren’t doing anything. It’s just a misunder—”

“Shut up. Your pretty words don’t work on me, son of Aphrodite.” Murphy could see the god’s nose flaring as he glowered down at them. “Only one of you’s getting to go back as a warning, so who’s it going to be?”

“I’ll stay,” Adam spoke, volunteering himself.

Hephaestus’ eyes narrowed, thinly. “No one is staying.”

He and Adam shared a look. Murphy’s mind was racing, trying to find a way out of this. He was coming up short. Camp prepared him for monsters, not for Gods.

“Who sent you?” A fire combusted throughout his clenched fist, causing a more immediate panic.

The name slipped from Murphy’s mouth. “Ares. Ares sent us.”

He didn’t mean to damn Adam, but justification began pouring into his mind—Only one of them was getting out and it was better this way, wasn’t it? Adam was the one who got caught anyways? The quest Murphy was on was the real mission, Adam’s didn’t matter. There was still a small percent Adam was the helm thief. Wait, Adam was good with getting out of situations. He could figure this out for the both of them. It was fine, Murphy wasn’t damning him, he was buying Adam time.

“Your father?” Hephaestus uttered.

“He didn’t.” Murphy’s heart clenched. He wasn’t expecting Adam to tell the truth, he’d sworn on the Styx.

“So Murphy is lying?”

“I’m not! It was Ares. He sent us to find the helm here!” Murphy’s eyes were on the god, hoping to Aphrodite, begging that his charmspeak would work. “Who else would send us here?”

There. He could see Hephaestus believe him. The wrath was on Ares. And on Adam. He stared at Adam, pleading him to say something to get them out of this. But Adam didn’t say anything at all. [1:26 PM] Hephaestus grunted. “I want to hear you say it, Adam. Tell me it was Ares.”

“Adam, tell him. Say something!” Murphy hissed. Why wasn’t Adam saying anything?

“It wasn’t Ares.”

“Tell me or Murphy dies now.”

The silence was both longer and quicker than Murphy had ever felt. But the fire that engulfed him was the last thing he recalled.

[[SCENE FIVE]]: ADAM’S POV

“Was it worth it?” Hephaestus asked, voice harsh and sharp, as Adam stared at the pile of ash where Murphy had been standing.

Adam...His morals hadn’t allowed Ares to take the blame for it, but at the same time, he had a duty to his quest not to out Athena. Weighing even heavier was the potential of escalating the war. Of it being time to fight against his friends. And Adam...Didn’t want to set the keg. So he stayed silent and he let Hephaestus smote Murphy.

“Kill me too,” Adam’s voice cracked through his raw throat. “Kill me too,” he repeated with more certainty.

“No. That’s your punishment.” He jerked his chin towards Murphy’s spot. “You’ll carry that forever.”

“That’s not a punishment! That’s not a fair punishment!” Adam snapped, feeling all the heat rise to his face. “You’re supposed to take it out on me!” “Fair? An eye for an eye then.” There was no other warning before Hephaestus took Adam’s left eye. Adam held the place where his eye had been, cringing over it. “Since you want to keep your eye on me, I’ll keep it then.” He turned his back towards Adam as he made for the door. “Go. You’ve completed your quest.” [1:26 PM] [[SCENE SIX]]: ATHENA’S POV

Athena plucked a dark olive from the tree above. She turned it over in thought. It was much too ripe—Far overdue to be picked. She peered up once more to get a glimpse of the son of Ares’ back as he headed back into town.

The quests she had sent both boys on ended one of the few ways she imagined it would. The children of Ares and Aphrodite on her side had made her suspicious of them both, though the Ares one had more of the cleverness and unpredictability that made her paranoid of him most.

It had been fairly simple. She sent Adam under the impression her suspicion was on Hephaestus and she sent Murphy to assess Adam. It seemed Adam was about done with his quest, obviously finding nothing on Hephaestus. With their time almost over, Athena had Hephaestus informed about the spies in his midsts. The real test of loyalty lied there and Adam had passed with flying colors. She could trust him now. Trust was priceless in war and the cost of it had been a sacrifice that she could afford to make.

The son of Ares was a good ally to have. And he would even have her gifted eyepatch on him forever, allowing him the same sense of depth perception. He would be grateful to her always.

His back faded from view and Athena vanished, content with the turnout.

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meggannn · 7 years ago

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ironically one of my favorite things about shepard/garrus is one of the things i think bioware did least successfully, at least for my personal taste. and i admit this is mostly cause i prefer developing/reading professional or emotionally reserved sheps (at least on the surface) who gradually open up to their li over time, over sheps who wear their heart on their sleeves from the beginning, and there are very few bw romances that really allow you to play that first kind of character, considering you, the pc, have to instigate the romance dialogue. there’s only so much a game can do to mimic a ‘real’ romance after all. even so i do prefer a bit of, if not subtlety, then.... tactfulness, i guess, when the pc pops the question, especially with a character like shepard who is so duty-focused and (until the proposing scene) never really indicated they were driven by their libido when looking for a partner (even if they were joking). so that “do you wanna bang” scene gives me such second hand embarrassment i gotta rewrite most of their entire me2 romance in my head and one day i’ll put it to a fic, but in the meantime...... i’ll just blab about it on tumblr dot com i guess....

like, i like the VIBE that is established. i like that in me2, we get confirmation that: a) garrus’s confidence in personal matters is absolutely nil when it comes to romance, much less an interracial romance; b) it sets up a real sweet theme of realizing they actually DONT know that much about each other’s culture or biology or anything related to their race, and the romance is staged to give them each time to do research on the other’s biology and anatomy (which is practical and common courtesy and the right thing to do! and also a little sweet when you consider how terrified garrus is of screwing it up!), c) however it started, whether facetiously or nervously or enthusiastically, these two are still able to have a nice moment together and acknowledge there are feelings between them that can (and if you ask me, do) still go unsaid. and in me3, we see them both (or at least garrus) in a bit more emotionally stable situation, maybe driven by a desire to see something go right in the middle of the war, so we establish a) garrus is still nervous and treading cautiously, but b) confident enough to prepare for a reunion, to articulate his questions about their relationship, to let shepard know he’s there for them regardless, and c) if you confirm the relationship, shepard and garrus can tease each other as friends and work together as soldiers and still have a supportive emotional/intimate partnership in their private time.

i just think you can have all of these angles to their relationship without the current get-together. imo you lose a lot of possible development and depth when you start all of this by having shepard walk in and say “heyyyyyyy let’s you and me ‘‘‘ease some tension’’’ together ;) :) ;) do you see me winking”, like.... how does a commanding officer say that to another adult they respect and (possibly) genuinely like, idk. it seemed like such a lazy way for the writers to get them into bed together without considering who these people are. and yeah, every shepard’s different, it’s possible someone found that very ic for their shepard. personally i’ve always been more of a fan of piecing together canon clues to tell me who the pc is and extrapolating an oc from there, and what most of canon tells me, is that shepard is someone who prioritizes duty (either to the alliance, or to saving innocents, or to just getting the job done) above nearly all else, including their own personal life. that doesn’t mean i don’t see shepard being an instigator or an occasional flirt. just......

bleh. is it too much to want a better get together than “let’s fuck”? idk. i feel like a whiner bc shepard/garrus is obviously the most popular pairing in the fandom, it dwarfs so many others in content and you can’t throw a stone without meeting an insufferable stan, and here i am complaining about it not being done my way. i guess i just feel like the writers listened to the fans who wanted garrus as an li from me1, but didn’t listen to why. they drew the shortest line between a and b (“they want to bone the alien? here you go, i guess!”) and left it at that.

i mean admittedly, left up to me, i’d stuff so much drawn-up pining into a canon shepard/garrus get-together that neither of them would be able to breathe through the ust. there’s a line i like in kaidan’s romance (not to hijack a shenko line for a shakarian thing, but it’s something i find so true to shepard’s character i adopt it for my shepard too, even though i don’t romance kaidan and save ashley) when shepard tells kaidan in the moment that she needs a shoulder, not a subordinate, and kaidan says “cut me a little slack, shepard, it’s not like you’re easy to read.” that is how i tend to play and read shepard: as someone who is emotionally available for their crew but plays things close to the vest with their own feelings. paired up with garrus, who is a better turian than he thinks and is pretty goal-oriented and professional under shepard’s command, it’s hard for me to believe these two would just fall into bed with each other after only one or two conversations of known build-up (stressing “known” here is as “acknowledged feelings” but could also be notable ust, which is my hc). in my reading, these two are much better at reading others (c-sec and officer training) than themselves, and one could argue are duty-driven enough to maybe not even bring up/realize their attraction until me3 (why couldn’t garrus have been an li in me3 for new romances or mshep!!!! who tf knows!!!!!)

all those times femshepard tells garrus she loves him in me3? not really my shepard’s style..... how’s an earthborn kid who’s been a marine all their adult life and never had a family or serious relationship know how to recognize and admit love out loud? garrus himself doesn’t tell shepard he loves them till the beam run, and even then, he barely whispers it. i have to turn my freaking speakers up just to hear him. it’s hard for him to say out loud. maybe turians have different language for it, or maybe there’s a stigma, or maybe the culture’s different. i dunno! but i keep thinking about the impact it would’ve had for that to be the first time shepard says it, too. like they’ve just realized it and want to get it out because they know it’s the end. or you could get away with not saying it at all, if you pick the renegade option. or you could have them try to say it and fail! come on, isn’t that sadder?

shepard wants to say -- she doesn’t know what she wants to say. whatever great emotion she’s been holding back since that night in her cabin is stuck in her throat and refuses to form. the bay door can’t remain open for long. garrus’s skull is caked with dark blue blood, his leg bent awfully, and shepard sees a sharp, snapped edge to his armor where his spur used to be. he should be in the med bay. he needs medical attention more than he needs to be wasting time saying goodbyes.

but he won’t go, he refuses, he won’t leave her be. “shepard -- i’m still good. just give me my gun. i can still fight.” blood dribbles into his eye from a crack in his forehead. he’s crouching so low to stand that he nearly meets her height. she’s never heard him plead before.

“vakarian -- ” her voice is hoarse when she talks; her throat burns. she’s been shouting all day. she’s surprised she can still talk at all. “don’t make me give you an order.”

“that’s not fair.” he laughs desperately, a bit disbelieving. half of his visor is dangling, interface dead; his armor scorched and chipped across the carapace; and his eyes, still, are locked on hers. “don’t -- shepard. please.” she’s ever heard him plead before.

“shepard,” tali says quietly under garrus’s arm. her helmet is cracked, badly, suit ruptured in a dozen places. but shepard hasn’t heard a single complaint from her, from either of them, and she realizes in this moment that she can’t let them go on. if they followed her, they’d follow her through hell again, follow her until they dropped, and she cannot abide by that.

“we’re in this -- ” garrus coughs, badly. fresh dark blood spits up from his throat; spots hit shepard’s chestpiece. his eyes water. “we’re in this ‘till the end. shepard.”

she’s never pleaded in her life either; she will not start now. “i need.” her voice is too hoarse, too quiet; he can’t hear her over the roar of the thrusters. she swallows, tries again. “i need to know people are getting out of this alive. i need you to be one of them.” to tali: “both of you.”

garrus stares at her, lost for words. “shepard,” he whispers. he looks prepared to say something great, and she readies herself for another argument -- but then she sees the moment the fight leaves his eyes, the moment lays down his gun, and she hates herself for being relieved. “just,” he says, “make sure that includes you too.”

harbinger roars in the distance; she glances to the great white beam heading their way, then back to the bleeding pair of them, waving firmly toward the ship as she moves off the gangplank. “go! tali -- take care of him!”

she realizes belatedly that those will be logged as her final words, and the last he’ll remember her by. and then he’s gone, and so is the normandy. the moment is over and she’s missed her chance. she thinks, garrus will understand. he couldn’t say it either.

i mean that’s garbage but i like it better than shepard dropping the l-word in every romance scene! fuck! i just want a little nuance ok leave me alone

#megan talks about bw

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zrtranscripts · 8 years ago

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Radio Abel, Season Four

Part 2 of 6

DOMHNALL: Before we begin with our backstory, who have you got with you today, Baz?

BASIL: This is Myxie! She's a New Zealand White, a common laboratory rabbit. Despite the name, New Zealand Whites are actually an American breed. She's such a sweetheart. Out of all the Kiwi bunnies – and we've got 50 or so – she's my favorite! She'll just sit on your lap, docile. Likes a scratch just behind her ear.

Don't put her on her back, though. Rabbits will go into tonic immobility and it's a stressful state for them. So please don't rub a rabbit's belly! How do you like that – my seamlessly sneaking in a public service announcement? Well, I suppose it's not that seamless when I draw attention to the seam like that.

DOMHNALL: Um, well done, Baz.

BASIL: Didn't seem like your heart was in that. Want to try again?

DOMHNALL: I'm afraid to ask, but why did you call her Myxie?

BASIL: Uh, you know.

DOMHNALL: It's short for myxomatosis, isn't it?

BASIL: Wrong! Mixolydian. It's a musical mode.

DOMHNALL: Really?

BASIL: No, it's myxomatosis. But she's named for the Radiohead song, not the -

DOMHNALL: You're sick.

DOMHNALL: Do you remember your first day at the lab, Baz?

BASIL: Wish I could forget it. Second year uni student, absolutely gormless. First day, I was sat in Doctor Leatherby's office for hours, waiting. When the door finally opened, instead of the old codger walking in, it was a lion! Let me repeat that: a lion. With a mane and everything!

DOMHNALL: How very Life of Pi.

BASIL: No ruddy tigers in this tale, Don. I was up against the king of the jungle.

DOMHNALL: Dear listeners, Doctor Basil Hibler is well aware that lions primarily live in the savanna, and less so the jungle, unlike tigers.

BASIL: And that lion settled on the chesterfield like he owned the place! Me, I was quivering in the corner of the room, cobbling together a spear from a letter opener and a meter stick. I made a heroic attempt at the door, but it was locked. A chute opened in the ceiling, and a stream of bloodied [?] fell on my head. That's when the lion pounced.

DOMHNALL: How did you escape?

BASIL: Well, I didn't! I laid there, slowly crushed under the lion's weight, spear broken. I tried to roll him off, but he wouldn't budge. Then the lion opened its hot, gaping maw, and -

DOMHNALL: And?

BASIL: And he licked me up and down, didn't he? It was Toothless Tim. He didn't even have his dentures yet. But that didn't stop me from wetting myself. Tim had delicate sensibilities. Left me alone after that. That's when Doctor Leatherby unlocked the door. Of course, he'd watched the entire time via the security cameras.

DOMHNALL: Filmed it as well. I think there may still be a recording on one of the computers.

BASIL: Note to self: destroy all the computers.

DOMHNALL: Well, it may be on the server.

BASIL: Note to self: figure out what a server is, and then destroy it.

BASIL: You started work here before I did. I'll wager you didn't have to fight a lion for your job.

DOMHNALL: No. Doctor Leatherby was my professor. He asked if I wanted to be his lab assistant, and I said I did. The next day, he gave me a key card, and a lab coat, and the directions to this facility.

BASIL: Which is impossible to find, listener. And impenetrable. Titanium doors a meter thick!

DOMHNALL: And booby-trapped.

BASIL: Yeah, good one. And booby-trapped, a la Temple of Doom. No rolling boulders, but a modern analogue.

DOMHNALL: And of course, many zombies.

BASIL: Swarms. Hordes. Legions. They're drawn to the smell from our incinerator, which will not help anyone find our facility. ... I can't believe you didn't have to fight any predators for your job.

DOMHNALL: I don't know. Doctor Leatherby was generally kind to me.

BASIL: He always liked you. As much of a crackpot as he was, he at least got that right.

DOMHNALL: I think it was because I was like his animals. I was scientifically manipulated, a freak. He probably thought I belonged in this place.

BASIL: Leatherby was a prat.

DOMHNALL: The centrifuge is done.

BASIL: Yeah! It didn't even fly off its axis and turn into a wheel of plague doom this time.

DOMHNALL: This is it, Baz. We discover whether the zombie virus has become zoonotic - or anthroponotic, in this case.

BASIL: You sound wistful, Don.

DOMHNALL: Now that the data's at our fingertips, it's my responsibility to analyze it, but I enjoyed the mystery of not knowing! The mystery, and the potential.

BASIL: Sorry, mate, but it's one or the other. It's Schrödinger's cat: undead edition. We should really let the cat out of the box and see if the Geiger counter went off. You have more important things to focus on, like synthesizing those hormones.

DOMHNALL: I don't want to talk about that.

BASIL: I know, but you either have the tools to do it, or you don't. Hope makes you you, Don, but it's not going to keep you that way.

DOMHNALL: Indeed. Oh, look at that, you got us off topic again! Don't go anywhere, listener...s. The startling conclusion to the catus zombiticus tests, Afterlife On Earth will return in a moment.

DOMHNALL: Welcome back, gentle listeners. The results are in, and -

BASIL: Yeah, it's not a zombie cat.

DOMHNALL: No, she's not.

BASIL: But she is very sick.

DOMHNALL: Hopefully was. I've never seen this particular strain before, but I can say that the virus was synthesized in this lab. Thankfully, its characteristics were documented, as was the existence of a cure, helpfully labeled, "antibodies: cat." After a quick diagnostic scan, it looked legitimate, so Baz gave her the treatment.

BASIL: That was an hour ago, and she's already looking much better, but we'll keep you apprised of her progress, listener.

DOMHNALL: Poor moggie.

BASIL: This was appalling, even for Leatherby, whose default setting is appalling. Reminds me why I quit this place.

DOMHNALL: What, the first time, or the second time?

BASIL: Both! But in a bad economy, a good man sells out his principles, don't he? Leatherby was always so smug when I came back, tail between my legs. [imitates DOCTOR LEATHERBY] "Told you you would be back, zookeeper. Now grab a shovel. The shit always piles up when you're on holiday."

I know he was your mentor and all, but I'm glad he lost the plot and ran off to live among the zoms. Couldn't imagine waiting out the end of days looking at his ugly [?].

DOMHNALL: To be fair, I like our ark the way it is.

BASIL: Me, too.

BASIL: You know, Don, I'm not sure I would have survived this without, you know, your being here with me.

DOMHNALL: I'm sure you would have, Baz. You're very resourceful. You have many practical, real-world skills, like surgery, and cooking, and animal husbandry. You're particularly adept with a machete spear.

BASIL: [laughs] Yeah. I've got a decent character card, I suppose.

DOMHNALL: I wouldn't have survived.

BASIL: Well, you have many academic world skills, like writing beautiful lab reports, and inadvertently humiliating speakers at conferences. Also, you tap a mean vein. But mostly you're just an utterly decent person. Good person, even. Kind. Maybe too kind for these times.

DOMHNALL: Baz, your hand.

BASIL: Yeah?

DOMHNALL: It-it is very cold. Perhaps we should test your circulation. We've been so sedentary since civilization ended. I know! We could start doing uh, calisthenics every morning. Wouldn't do to survive the zombie horde only to be done in by DVT or bedsores.

BASIL: [laughs] Yeah. Maybe.

DOMHNALL: But look at us. We've strayed off topic yet again. Why don't you find us an animal?

BASIL: I know just who to bring out. Give us a sec. [opens office door] I'll give you three guesses as to -

[knock on outer door]

DOMHNALL: What the - ? Baz, was that you?

[knock on outer door]

BASIL: Oi, quit messing about, Don. The animals are already getting agitated enough.

DOMHNALL: Baz, this isn't funny.

[knock on outer door

BASIL: Don, knock it off. [opens office door] Look who I've got!

[knock on outer door]

DOMHNALL: Zoms!

BASIL: Zoms don't knock. That's your listener.

DOMHNALL: For the last time, we have more than one listener, probably.

[knock on outer door]

BASIL: Ouch! Damn it, Melvin, don't pull my arm hair!

[knock on outer door, Melvin tap dances]

DOMHNALL: Baz, keep Melvin quiet.

BASIL: Right. Melvin, stop it. Melvin, stop it! Melvin, stop it!

[knock on outer door]

DOMHNALL: Baz!

BASIL: What? I don't know how to speak tap dance. I mean, I'm fluent in soft-shoe, but there are subtle but vital differences in syntax!

DOMHNALL: For goodness' sake! The zoms will sense the vibrations from its routine!

BASIL: So zoms are snakes now? Next you'll be wailing about their echolocation or heat sensors or -

DOMHNALL: Baz, pick up the damn monkey

BASIL: Oh no! Every time I bring an animal on your show, it wees on me. I haven't any clean clothes. I am not going to die stinking of monkey musk!

DOMHNALL: Stinking of – ? Baz, you have a much greater chance than most of defecating upon death, so I don't think monkey piddle will matter!

BASIL: Hey, you just said I was full of shit, didn't you? You also said piddle!

BASIL: Oi, where are you going?

DOMHNALL: Won't be a moment.

BASIL: Someone's entirely too cavalier considering we're under siege. Wait, what is - ? My yo-yo! [laughs] I knew I didn't lose it! Melvin, reach your arm under – no, like this. Damn. What's "reach under the desk for my yo-yo" in tap dancing? Don, this is no time for a wardrobe change.

DOMHNALL: Right, so... [tap dances] and a-para-diddle time step. Poor thing. And - [continues tap dancing]

BASIL: When did you learn how to speak monkey?

DOMHNALL: Eight years tap, seven years ballet.

BASIL: And you just happened to keep your tap shoes at the lab?

DOMHNALL: Melvin and I were meant to dance a duet at this year's holiday party. Anyway, he should be quiet now. He was just frightened and needed reassurance.

BASIL: I'm frightened and need reassurance! Will you dance about with a brolly for me? Or, if you prefer, I could fetch you a sailor suit and a mouse.

BASIL: Can't believe you tap dance and never told me.

DOMHNALL: It's not that impressive. A monkey can do it.

BASIL: But I suddenly feel as though I don't know you at all! What else are you keeping from me? Are you a spy? A Morlock? Are you even Scottish?

DOMHNALL: You know all my big secrets, Baz. Hang on! I'm not Scottish!

BASIL: But you always say Scottish things. You even say "Scottish" like a Scotsman.

DOMHNALL: My parents are Scottish. I grew up less than ten miles from here.

BASIL: Right. I knew that.

DOMHNALL: Actually, sometimes I feel as though you know everything about me, but I know very few details about you.

BASIL: That's because I talk constantly but never say anything of substance.

DOMHNALL: Baz, I'm serious.

BASIL: Almost always, yeah. That knocking stopped. Seems your listener's given up. That's because this lab is a fortress! Absolutely impregnable, I tell you! It would take an army to break – [audio cuts off]

DOMHNALL: We've been breached! A warning to all: it appears homo sapiens sapiens zombiticus has evolved, its faculties now allowing for such strategic thinking as shutting off primary generators, finding emergency hatches, and manually overriding the lock system during the 30 seconds it takes for the secondary generator to kick on.

Listeners, if this behavior is reflective of all zombiekind, then it is advised that all communities reevaluate their security measures immediately, and – Baz. What are you doing with that machete spear? You don't plan to engage them, do you?

BASIL: Engage the zoms? No. But were I a betting man -

DOMHNALL: Which you are. I'd even say you have a gambling problem.

BASIL: Were I a betting man, I'd wager a thousand quid it's not zoms. Or your listener, mostly because I don't believe your listener exists. I know, I know, you're upset. But this is a good thing for us, considering you've just told any hypothetical audience how to circumvent our security.

DOMHNALL: ... oh. Wait for me, I'll find a weapon.

BASIL: If I'm right, there will be no need. If I'm wrong, it wouldn't make any difference, and we'd both end up dead. Besides, if I die, you'll need to take care of the animals.

DOMHNALL: But -

BASIL: I'm off. Give us a good battle cry.

DOMHNALL: Uh...

BASIL: Come on, don't have all day.

DOMHNALL: G-geronimo?

BASIL: No.

DOMHNALL: Baz smash?

BASIL: No.

DOMHNALL: Excelsior?

BASIL: Frack yes!

DOMHNALL: I think you're mixing fandoms, there, Baz. Baz!

BASIL: Excelsior!

BASIL: Excelsior! Excelsior!

[metal clatters, BASIL shouts]

DOMHNALL: Baz? [BASIL laughs] Oh my... [door creaks open] Doctor Leatherby?

DOMHNALL: Baz, is that really -

BASIL: Doctor Solomon Leatherby, in the stinking, rotten flesh. Emphasis on "stinking." I figured it would be. There's no one else left on the planet who knows our security system. Except for your listener, whom we've established doesn't exist.

DOMHNALL: I can't believe he's alive!

BASIL: I just said he doesn't exist.

DOMHNALL: I was talking about Doctor Leatherby.

BASIL: Well, mind your pronouns. And anyway, "alive" is a relative term these days, isn't it?

DOMHNALL: Can you make out what he's saying?

BASIL: My best guess is, "Ugh, augh. Brains, yum." Hence I trapped him in the cage. See?

DOMHNALL: He doesn't quite look like a zom.

BASIL: Likely he's not finished transitioning.

DOMHNALL: Like mentor, like pupil. Well, I thought it was funny.

BASIL: Aw, bless. But you shouldn't compare yourself to him. He's a soulless monster. And now he's also a zombie!

DOMHNALL: Baz, we need to prep the surgery for plasmapheresis!

BASIL: We don't have enough plasma on hand for that, remember? He used it all up before he left, experimenting on that intern.

DOMHNALL: Of course. And it'll take more time than he has to synthesize it. I believe he's genuinely trying to tell us something!

BASIL: Get away from that cage!

[cage rattles, DOMHNALL gasps]

ZOE CRICK: Twist! Their supervisor's a zombie.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Zoe, you do know these are actual people, right? Actual people having actual lives, and him being a zombie is not great news for them.

ZOE CRICK: I'm ironically distancing myself from their pain to make it more bearable.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: See, you're saying that ironically, but actually it's completely true.

ZOE CRICK: You think I'm being ironic about being ironic?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: I think you're not being ironic about being ironic.

ZOE CRICK: So you're accusing me of ironically being ironic about being ironic? [sighs] My head hurts.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Maybe this next song will help. I've always found it very soothing.

DOMHNALL: Doctor Leatherby, please! I'm just trying to help you.

BASIL: He's a zom, Don. You can't reason with him. Damn it, don't lean towards his mouth!

DOMHNALL: He's trying to tell me something.

BASIL: You mug, he's trying to bite your ear! Where's my - ? Ugh. Why is there never a machete spear around when you need one. Oi, Don, did you know this thing was still broadcasting? Should we break for a musical interlude while I fetch my machete spear?

DOMHNALL: What's that? Speak up. Something about a toad? Do you mean one of the psychoactive ones? If you think that'll help alleviate your suffering, we still have a couple of Bufo alvarius. Shall I fetch one? Or I could mix up your Friday cocktail. Double shot of LSD? Hmm, Doctor Leatherby? I'm going to ask you respect Human Resources Policy 20.2.5 and not talk so close I can feel your breath on my ear. Gosh, that's ripe.

BASIL: What is wrong with you, Don? You steadfastly believed the cat was a zombie, knowing full well the virus had never displayed zoonotic tendencies, but despite Leatherby's obvious zombification – why the hell is he pointing at me? You just put that necrotic finger away, mister!

DOMHNALL: What's that, Doctor Leatherby? The cat? What about it? He just keeps saying, "the cat, the cat!"

BASIL: Oh, sod off about the cat, old man. You tortured that poor thing. If Don hadn't found the antidote -

DOMHNALL: The cat... oh, the cat! I understand now. Please, Doctor Leatherby, let me go! I know what to do.

BASIL: He's not going to – oh, would you look at that. He's let go.

DOMHNALL: BRB, Baz!

BASIL: I don't know why he does that. He never texted, even when we had a working mobile phone network. Plus, that particular acronym is not actually faster when verbalized.

DOCTOR LEATHERBY: Idiot zookeeper...

BASIL: As I don't know how to translate Zombie, I'm going to assume you said, "I've always admired your intellect, Doctor Hibler. I demeaned you with words like 'idiot' and 'zookeeper' and 'shit-shoveler' because I was intimidated by your genius, and jealous of your relationship with Doctor Barra." Blimey, Zombie is an efficient language.

BASIL: Where's the fire, Don? Also, didn't anyone ever tell you not to run with syringes? Needle pointing down, please.

DOMHNALL: [laughs] The cat, Don, the cat!

BASIL: You mean Pusstopher Jones?

DOMHNALL: [laughs] No.

BASIL: You mean Blister Mistoffelees?

DOMHNALL: [laughs] No.

BASIL: You mean -

DOMHNALL: I mean the cat what looked like a zombie but wasn't! The cat that we cured with the vial marked "cat antibodies", beside which I found a vial marked "me antibodies". Apologies, Doctor Leatherby. This might pinch. Don't you see, Baz? Doctor Leatherby has the same affliction as the cat, or a human variation of it, and like her, he should be as good as new in no time.

BASIL: Great.

DOMHNALL: Isn't it?

BASIL: But we keep him in the cage until we're certain he's not a zombie.

DOMHNALL: Agreed. We can't be too safe.

BASIL: And you can only keep him if you promise to feed and water him, take him for walks, and clean up when he makes a mess. We really should put newsprint down.

DOMHNALL: Baz, I know the two of you don't get on well, but he's still a human being, and he's obviously been through an ordeal. Have some compassion.

BASIL: That's the difference between us. You think everyone deserves kindness. I think people deserve what they put out.

DOMHNALL: But if that's true, then what consideration are you to be afforded by dispensing vengeance on behalf of others?

BASIL: Now who's derailing the conversation? Since when did this become a morality debate?

DOMHNALL: Don't be cross. I didn't mean -

BASIL: You're responsible for Leatherby. I have my hands full keeping the zoo. And I was only half joking about the newsprint. By the way, you are still broadcasting. If you care at all about this enterprise, you might want to consider wrapping up this segment.

DOMHNALL: Capuchin monkeys - like Melvin, our tap dancing monkey – are considered the most intelligent of all the new world monkeys. They're omnivores, and well-known for their usage of tools. They are favored by Hollywood studios and organ grinders alike.

As it is for most primates, Capuchin society is complex. Theirs is a male transfer system in which females stay in natal groups and are presided over by an alpha male. Mutual grooming creates bonds between members, but no amount of nitpicking will earn share of the kingdom. There is only room for one at the top, and Capuchins are notoriously territorial.

This is not an analogy. There are no females. I'm Domhnall Barra, and this is Melvin the tap dancing monkey, bidding you goodnight.

DOMHNALL: As far as science knows, felis silvestris catus zombiticus does not, in fact, exist. The zombie contagion is not anthroponotic, and is thus contained in the human species. As fascinating as it would have been to study the zombie state up close, there are many reasons why our findings have proved fortuitous, the main reason being that the cat formerly known as Zombie Cat is very very very very very sweet. And when one is sequestered in a hellish bunker in the middle of a dystopian, plague-ridden world, one cannot discount the value of a loving, purring cat in one's lap.

This is Afterlife On Earth, and I am your host, Domhnall Barra. And here with me today is the wee moggie previously known as zombie cat. We should probably rectify this state of namelessness. If anyone out there - either on the waves or on Rofflenet - has any suggestions, I'd be much obliged. Baz is usually in charge of naming, but I'm loathe to hand her over to him, considering the names he's proposed to date. Also, there's a chance he's not talking to me. I mean, he hasn't pointedly ignored me or anything, but I haven't seen him all day. So we'll carry on without him.

Today on the program, a quiet afternoon with felis silvestris catus, the ordinary housecat. More with our friend after this musical interlude.

DOMHNALL: Our sweet friend is a shorthair, an English Blue, with the defining characteristics of the breed. These include a steel blue coat and copper eyes, with a broad-jowled face and sturdy, compact frame, although she is malnourished at the moment. Also, her fur is patchy and growing in tufts, but Baz bathed and groomed her last night, and she's eaten, so she already looks, smells, and generally seems much better.

As an aside, Doctor Leatherby seems to be similarly progressing. Just to clarify, Baz did not bathe him, thus he does not smell nearly as sweet as the cat.

Can you hear that, listener? She's purring. Ah, now here's something fascinating. As ordinary, albeit welcome, the sound of purring is to cat owners, the mechanism itself is extraordinary. Purring has always been a defining characteristic of felinae. In fact, we have traditionally organized cats by their vocalizations. Felinae consisted of cats who purred, while pantherinae included roaring cats. We now know that the cats of pantherinae, the great cats – not that you're not great, sweet moggie – also purr, but only when they exhale.

Felinae, which include housecats, wild cats, as well as cheetahs and cougars, cannot roar. A cat's reasons for purring is ambiguous, as is the exact mechanism by which they create this sound.

[cage rattles]

Doctor Leatherby? [office door opens] Doctor Leatherby, are you awake? What's that? Speak up! What? What? Oh. Well, that's a tad hyperbolic. Certainly I'm not quite as boring as watching mold grow. Oh, so you think that simile is, in fact, accurate? That listening to me broadcast is comparable to observing mold? Oh. [cricket chirps] Tell us again why we're breeding crickets?

DOMHNALL: Welcome back, listener...s. This is Afterlife On Earth. I am here with the feline previously known as Zombie Cat, as well as my mentor, Doctor Solomon Leatherby, who will speak to us from the safety of his cage, as there is still a slight chance he may be transitioning towards zombiedom. Doctor Leatherby, please say hello to our audience.

DOCTOR LEATHERBY: Release me! Was... not... zombie!

DOMHNALL: I want to believe you, Doctor Leatherby, but surely you realize that is exactly what a zombie would say, and how he would say it, complete with sentence fragments and haggard ellipses.

DOCTOR LEATHERBY: Me... cat... cage! [?]... fool! Domhnall...

DOMHNALL: You don't have to be cruel. You would agree with this protocol if you were me, and had caught a possible zombie.

DOCTOR LEATHERBY: Zookeeper! Zookeeper!

DOMHNALL: Doctor Leatherby, please desist! That's not going to help your case. Now, in your own words, if you can please share with our audience – our vast audience – your experiences in the wild, living among the zombies.

BASIL: What the bloody hell is going on in here? Why is zombie Leatherby miked up?

DOMHNALL: I couldn't find you! My show was boring without a cohost.

BASIL: So you offered my position to a zom?

DOCTOR LEATHERBY: Not... undead! ... I... pre... cat... me!

BASIL: Ah, that trademark zombie wit.

DOMHNALL: He's likely not a zombie. He's just like the cat, and look at her! She's doing much better.

BASIL: Why's the cat out of her cage?

DOMHNALL: Um...

BASIL: Give me the cat. She has two more days on her quarantine. And for God's sake, don't let him out, either.

DOMHNALL: Obviously, I won't. And I'd appreciate it if you didn't talk to me as though I were a child.

BASIL: You're still broadcasting.

DOMHNALL: What does it matter to you? You're convinced no one's listening.

BASIL: Well, I'm not sure, anymore. I mean, no one gives a toss about you droning on about [?] vocalizations or goose migration patterns, but I'd tune in to listen to this drama.

DOMHNALL: What drama?

BASIL: Us, fighting

DOMHNALL: ... we're fighting?

BASIL: You should hook the old bastard up to an IV, just in case he isn't a zom. And I've left more blankets in the hall.

DOMHNALL: Thanks.

BASIL: The cat, Don. And don't take the animals without asking. Some of them are very sick. I'm fairly certain one of them badgers is a vampire. And while you're spending all your time in here nattering on, what are you doing about your injections? ... yeah, that's what I thought.

BASIL: This is not Afterlife On Earth. It's just me, Basil Hibler. Ol' Baz. [laughs] Can't sleep. Brain's racing. Usually, I wake up Don, or chat with Pedro the macaw, but I don't want to chance rousing the facility, not with Doctor Leatherby back.

There's probably no one listening. No, not because no one tunes in to Don's program, because I'm sure someone somewhere does. Obviously I'm just, you know, taking the piss out of him. [laughs] But it's late. Only ones up are the dead.

There's something soothing about the microphone, about the illusion that it's attaching me to someone somewhere who's flesh and blood and alive. Like, confession or something. Maybe that's why Don likes it so much, recovering Catholic and all.

Doctor Leatherby's got better. He's not 100%, not even 60%, but it's clear he's not a zom, which means he's back to stay. If it were me, I'd kick him out on his ass without a second thought! He survived all that time in the wild, I'm sure he can do it again.

But Don'd never go for it. We'd have another row. We never fight, except when it comes to – [sighs] Leatherby's always been good at that – dividing and conquering. For a loon, he's remarkable Machiavellian.

I mean, It may be perverse, but this facility's become our home. Now that Leatherby's back – albeit in a cage for everyone's safety – it feels like Don and I... like we've played house while the grownups were away. We've built a life! An odd one, sure, but... you know, good. And of course, the only person with enough sway to dismantle it is a cockroach capable of surviving nuclear winter.

Anyway, I'm off to check on the menagerie. Night, listener. Sleep tight. Don't let the zoms bite.

DOMHNALL: Zombie: it is a word laden with fear, pregnant with connotation. Mere mention sends our imaginations reeling with images of the shambling horde, a phalanx of ravening carnivores, sloughing off their necrotic skin, their mouths bloodied, sinew caught between their rotten teeth like wilted spinach and popcorn kernels. Memory reminds us of their stench, the bushy death musk that lingers in their wake, and our dreams entangle imagination and memory into plaguing mares of terror.

Few would venture into their path, none into their midst. None save one, and that man is with us today. This is Afterlife On Earth, and I am your host, Domhnall Barra.

DOCTOR LEATHERBY: Barra, you don't always open with such purple tripe, do you?

DOMHNALL: Well, I try to infuse some drama into – [nervous laugh] I can stop.

BASIL: But you won't, because your listeners like your monologues the way they are.

DOMHNALL: Thanks, Baz.

DOCTOR LEATHERBY: My mistake. In my haze, I thought I overheard the zookeeper state that "no one would willingly listen to such a rambling, prosaic, insipid rubbish." His words, not mine.

BASIL: Nope. Not my words at all. Don't even know what prosaic means.

DOMHNALL: [clears throat] As you can hear, listeners, after his brief sojourne, my cohost, Doctor Basil Hibler -

BASIL: For the last time, call me Baz.

DOMHNALL: - Baz has returned to the show.

BASIL: Hello, hello, gentle listener...s.

DOMHNALL: We are both just chuffed [BASIL snorts] to introduced today's guest, a giant in the field of virology, my mentor, Doctor Solomon Leatherby.

DOCTOR LEATHERBY: Good afternoon.

BASIL: It's morning.

DOCTOR LEATHERBY: It's four minutes after twelve, according to my watch.

DOMHNALL: Against all odds, Doctor Leatherby has returned to civilization relatively unscathed after spending an extended time living among the zombies, studying their migration patterns, the nuances of zombie society. After the break, his miraculous story, only on Afterlife On Earth.

DOMHNALL: Welcome back to Afterlife On Earth. We're here with scientific pioneer, Doctor Solomon Leatherby, newly returned to civilization after living among the zombies. Living among them, but not as one. Doctor Leatherby is alive, listeners, not undead.

BASIL: Well, he's not a zom, anyway. Jury's out on vampirism.

DOCTOR LEATHERBY: Ah, I see your formula, Barra. You share zoological facts with the populous in the style of those general interest nature programs, and the zookeeper infuses lowest common denominator humor in order to make you more approachable to the unwashed masses.

BASIL: Speaking of unwashed...

DOCTOR LEATHERBY: In order to fit in with this dynamic, I shall don the role of learned elder statesman who queries your thesis and leads you towards the path of scientific enlightenment in which you disprove yourself and dismantle your entire belief system.

BASIL: Yay, old times!

DOCTOR LEATHERBY: Glad you're taking interest, Hibler. Your articles make even Barra's somnambulistic ramblings seem academically rigorous.

DOMHNALL: Doctor Leatherby, Baz isn't an academic, remember? He's a veterinarian.

DOCTOR LEATHERBY: Is he, now? I didn't realize that. I hired him because he's a fine butcher.

BASIL: Yeah, yeah, I'm a surgeon. I'm a bloody hack. All I do is cut things.

DOCTOR LEATHERBY: But never the right things, Hibler. Far too many adjectives.

DOMHNALL: Doctor Leatherby, if you please, we're all on tenterhooks. How is it you survived all this time living among the ravenous horde? How did you infiltrate them? Camouflage yourself? How did you meet your own basic needs in the wasteland? Have you gleaned any new insight into the nature and potential cure of the undead mutation-virus-pathogen-bacteria-prion?

DOCTOR LEATHERBY: Patience, Barra. Excitable as ever, I see. I suppose you haven't had much stimulation, living down here with the rodents, apes, and the badgers.

BASIL: Well, he has me.

DOCTOR LEATHERBY: Yes. I said ape. As a veterinarian, you should know that humans belong to the taxonomic family Hominidae, a classification also known by the term great ape. Although in your case, the emphasis is definitely on ape.

BASIL: Yeah, well, obviously you're a great ape, too. Emphasis on the "gray". Without the T.

DOMHNALL: Baz, don't be ageist. Let's focus on the task in hand. Please, Doctor Leatherby, your story. When we return.

DOCTOR LEATHERBY: Fine. It all began when an intern called Johnny decided he would brave the horde to find his sweetheart, a young lady with the unfortunate name Clotilda Drudge, a name now permanently subscribed on the annals of time.

BASIL: Yeah, because the great Doctor Solomon Leatherby has deigned to speak it on record, ho ho ho.

DOCTOR LEATHERBY: Young Johnny's efforts always proved in vain. First, he mimicked the zombies, adopting their shuffling gait, their posture, their dead-eyed gaze. Johnny proved affective at adopting the affectation primarily because it differed only slightly from his natural mannerisms.

BASIL: Because he's young, and all young people people have poor posture and headphone-induced thousand yard stares? Now who's bloody ageist?

DOCTOR LEATHERBY: He only made it partway down the lawn before the zombies noticed. I hypothesized as much. If it were as easy as mimicking zombie physicality, the teenagers would remain untouched, and the world's survivors would primarily consist of actors!

BASIL: And of course, that would spell trouble for the human race, as none of these groups know anything about the world or have any skills transferrable to survival.

DOCTOR LEATHERBY: Oh. Excellent. If you manage to make that conclusion, then surely the listeners would be able to as well. Let us take a break to allow for proper intellectual digestion.

DOCTOR LEATHERBY: When mimicry failed the young intern, he turned to olfactory camouflage. This was a two-part test. The first time, he rolled in animal hair, urine, and excrement, as canines do. This, with a slow shuffle, allowed him a little further towards the Tesco's car park. We don't allow the interns access to the underground car park or tunnels.

On his sprint back, he collect body parts that had fallen off various zombies, as I'd earlier instructed. The second part of this test involved using the smell of dead human flesh. This netted the most success. He very nearly made it to his car. But I propose that his natural living odor permeated the shield of decay. The stress and physical activity would have encouraged sweat production, especially in a young man prone to lethargy.

The zombies caught Johnny before he could jump over the fence into the car park. In hindsight, he should have brought along wire cutters, as he wouldn't have successfully scaled the fence, even if the horde hadn't swarmed him.

DOMHNALL: And this led you back to the lab?

DOCTOR LEATHERBY: Yes. I realized that in order to fool the zombies, our camouflage had to begin at the cellular level. As we had several interns, we conducted multiple experiments. First, having the interns consume foods known to change human scent. Onions, garlic, asparagus, plastic analogous cheese products. While none proved successful, some showed the theory promising.

If you recall, Barra, two years ago, we worked on bacterial strain V-A12LEP095, which targeted the skin and glands. One of the early symptoms of this strain was the smell of what could only be classified as death. Most early stage symptoms were mild, primarily skin issues that could be treated topically. In later stages, the strain proved painful, and occasionally fatal. But as zombification always proved fatal, I felt it worth the risk.

I still had two interns, and thus injected them both with modified strains of V-A12LEP095. To my delight, both made it to their cars in the car park. Of course, I couldn't allow them to leave without doing follow-up on the experiment, so I had my research assistant Lola take the underground tunnel to the other side of the car park to drive nails in all the tires.

BASIL: Bloody hell.

DOCTOR LEATHERBY: Oh, don't fret, zookeeper. Lola wasn't an intern. She was allowed to use the tunnels.

DOMHNALL: What happened to the interns, Doctor Leatherby? We know they're no longer at the facility with us.

DOCTOR LEATHERBY: Well, one of them didn't take well to V-A12LEP095. He tried to escape and was gunned down by a random woman on a horse! The other one left with Lola and Marianne.

BASIL: Who the hell is Marianne?

DOMHNALL: Marianne was Doctor Leatherby's car.

DOCTOR LEATHERBY: In hindsight, we probably shouldn't have let research assistants in the underground car park, either.

DOMHNALL: You left the facility not long after that.

DOCTOR LEATHERBY: I injected myself with the stable strain of V-A12LEP095. Leading up to my experiment, I practiced my zombie mimicry and collected fouled clothing. With trepidation, I infiltrated the horde. They accepted me without curiosity.

When I grew bolder, I joined a shamble of nomadic zombies – a shamble being a collective noun for a cohort of zombies. I packed charcoal water purifiers and desalinators, food, vitamins and medication to help stem the progression of V-A12LEP095, and left, following the shamble through the city.

DOMHNALL: And what did you discover, Doctor Leatherby?

DOCTOR LEATHERBY: Well, as expected, zombie movement patterns are dictated by a small number of variables. One: sound. They are not discriminating. Any sound indicates life, thus, food. Two: smell, for the same reason. Three: movement, see above. Four: resistance. If not in pursuit of sustenance, zombie movements are seemingly random. However, environmental resistance limits locomotion. Even a small pothole can disrupt zombie movement.

Feeding patterns are similar to pack dynamics such as a pride of lions, with no special consideration given to child zom. I have observed zoms grooming each other in ways similar to that of living primates, but with less motor skill and social gain. Most likely a vestigial habit.

DOMHNALL: How fascinating! Isn't it, Baz?

BASIL: So why'd you come back, then?

DOCTOR LEATHERBY: As I said earlier, V-A12LEP095 can be dangerous in later stages. I need the cure.

BASIL: And why'd you dose the poor cat?

DOCTOR LEATHERBY: I needed to leave a clue about my procedure in case I required medical assistance upon return. I wasn't about to inject Barra, and I couldn't find you.

BASIL: Did you ever think about, oh, I don't know, leaving a note?

DOCTOR LEATHERBY: Not that I have to explain myself to you, but I didn't want to chance someone else conducting my experiment before I had my chance.

BASIL: You mean someone like Don or me.

DOCTOR LEATHERBY: And of course, if Barra knew what I was doing, he would have attempted to stop me, or come with.

BASIL: And you didn't want to share the glory.

DOCTOR LEATHERBY: I didn't want him harmed in case the experiment didn't work.

DOMHNALL: You're right. I would have tried to stop you, and then wouldn't have collected all this fascinating data!

BASIL: You... you killed six interns.

DOCTOR LEATHERBY: False. I only killed five. The last one stole my automobile. But I should very much like to kill that one, I think.

BASIL: Ugh. And on that note, this is Baz Hibler, and on behalf of Domhnall Barra and I, thank you for tuning in to Afterlife On Earth.

DOMHNALL: Hang on, that's my job - ! [audio cuts off]

DOMHNALL: Welcome back to Afterlife On Earth. I am your host, Domhnall Barra, here with my copilot, Baz Hibler.

BASIL: Hello, hello!

DOMHNALL: And the cat formerly known as Zombie Cat.

BASIL: She's purring! I'll hold her up to the mic so folks can hear.

[cat formerly known as Zombie Cat purrs]

DOMHNALL: Today's show will not focus on the cat formerly known as Zombie Cat, but we wanted to open the segment with sharing a few of the name suggestions we've received via Rofflenet. The fact that we've received suggestions from multiple users indicates what, Baz?

BASIL: I'll concede. There are at least five people listening to this program. Or your listener has at least four friends. Good on you, listener.

DOMHNALL: Baz, would you kindly read out the names?

BASIL: So, here are your suggestions: Beauregard, Catchy, Figaro, Selena Kyle, and Pretty Polly Leapshadow! All excellent names for a cat.

DOMHNALL: Thank you all. And do keep the names coming. We'll consider every suggestion, and announce our decision at a later date. Now, Baz will take the cat away and bring out our next guest.

BASIL: We can't have them out at the same time. They'll fight like cats and dogs. Because they are. Cats and dogs. Won't be a moment.

DOMHNALL: As we wait, let me give a brief introuction to our next – [office door opens] Oh, hello, Doctor Leatherby. Would you like to, uh - ?

DOCTOR LEATHERBY: Barra, I have no further interest in this enterprise. I just wanted to know what it is you're cooking up in Lab C.

DOMHNALL: Lab C? Oh, uh, it's nothing.

DOCTOR LEATHERBY: Nothing? Good to know. Because it looked as though you were synthesizing testosterone from DHEA and propionyl and hydride.

DOMHNALL: I may have been trying to synthesize some hormones.

DOCTOR LEATHERBY: I gather you haven't had the courage to inject yourself yet? When did the subcutaneous pellet expire?

DOMHNALL: It's been a while. After that, I was injecting the samples you fabricated earlier, but...

DOCTOR LEATHERBY: Fine. Leave it to me.

DOMHNALL: Really?

DOCTOR LEATHERBY: You're a good assistant, Barra. You're obedient, with fine motor skills and neat handwriting. And occasionally, you show some insight. But you are no pioneer, and no toolshed drug cooker. I'll synthesize your hormone. Unless you want to revert to being a shy, mannish girl. You might consider it, given that the nearly eradicated human race will requires breeders.

DOMHNALL: Thank you, Doctor Leatherby. I appreciate your help in the lab.

DOCTOR LEATHERBY: I should have made you a batch before I left. It appears I was naive, expecting you'd devote yourself to your research while I was away. What a shock to return to find you hosting a silly radio program and playing house with the zookeeper. Like children.

DOMHNALL: I'm sorry.

DOCTOR LEATHERBY: And here I was thinking you'd accompany me on my next expedition.

DOMHNALL: To study the zombies?

DOCTOR LEATHERBY: Of course. The last trip was just for curiosity's sake. The real research lies in studying the changes in their unbiology. This is the term we will use when describing undead physiology – unphysiology! We will add "un" to everything.

DOMHNALL: Very sensible.

DOCTOR LEATHERBY: We need to get on this before that fame monger, Van Ark, does. This unplague is exactly the kind of crackpottery that knee-jerk experimentalist is hankering for. We have to crack this before he does. He always had those government connections, but I won't let him steal one more tax payer penny from me.

BASIL: Just a moment.

DOCTOR LEATHERBY: So, that settles it. I will synthesize your hormones, and following that, an improved strain of V-A12NEL095. When my body can handle another dose, we'll leave.

DOMHNALL: I... wow!

DOCTOR LEATHERBY: Excellent. I'll leave you to your little radio program.

BASIL: Here we are. Say hello to the keeper of the underworld!

DOMHNALL: Cerberus.

BASIL: Who's a good boy? And who else is a good boy? Yes, you are! And you are! You both are! We all are! [laughs] Oi, Don. Pet him, will you? He's got two heads, after all.

DOMHNALL: Right. Good boys, Cerberus.

[Cerberus barks]

BASIL: What's wrong with you?

DOMHNALL: Nothing.

BASIL: Was that old coot in here? Did he say something to you?

DOMHNALL: Why don't you tell our listeners about our dog?

BASIL: Well, his name's Cerberus. Yes, he has two heads. Not in a creepy, transplanty, Demikhov kind of way. In a natural, conjoined sort of way. He's actually perfectly healthy otherwise. He has two hearts, four lungs, three kidneys, and a penchant for liver sticks. This particular two-headed dog is a Rottweiler poodle mix. A Rottenpoo, if you will.

DOMHNALL: Cerberus is not a Rottenpoo! Stop trying to coin that.

DOMHNALL: What else can you tell our listeners about this particular two-headed dog, Baz?

BASIL: Uh, it's not enough that he's got two heads?

DOMHNALL: This is supposed to be educational, remember? So, the domestic dog, uh, canus lupus familiaris, man's best friend... I guess most people know about dogs.

BASIL: Well, we could talk about how dog breeds emerged, both naturally and due to human manipulation. Or we could -

DOMHNALL: Doctor Leatherby wants me to go back out in the field with him.

BASIL: What?

DOMHNALL: Doctor Leatherby -

BASIL: You mean with the zoms?

DOMHNALL: Yes, but – [BASIL laughs] You know how successful his – his experiment proved - !

BASIL: He plans to inject you with a leprosy cocktail and drag you out into the ruined waste to live with the flesh eating undead, and you're going to let him?

DOMHNALL: Baz, this will allow us to study zombification, to monitor the progression of the actual unaffliction, to take unliving samples that we can bring back to the lab to study. We could even possibly create a cure, or innoculation. Baz, it's my responsibility as a scientist!

BASIL: This is mental! Don't you think if zombification could have been cured, it would have been by now?

DOMHNALL: I have to try.

BASIL: No, you don't. Leatherby is mad. He killed all those interns unnecessarily. He tortures these animals. For God's sake, he tortures us! He doesn't give a damn about you. If you're lucky, you'll be eaten alive. If you're not, you'll be shambling around with the rest of them "un-fools". [opens office door]

DOMHNALL: Sit down, please!

BASIL: I'm taking Cerberus for a walk. Bloody braindead dead brain trust. Come on, dog.

DOMHNALL: Baz! Damn it. We're still broadcast – oh, damn it again! This is Domhnall Barra for Afterlife On Earth, and just – just piss off! Baz! Baz, you came - Doctor Leatherby. [BASIL shouts] What are you doing? What's – what's in that syringe?

BASIL: Let go of me, old man!

DOCTOR LEATHERBY: 10 years, and you still haven't learned respect, zookeeper. Barra, you will accompany me on my next excursion. I am director of this facility, and you are my employee. I am not asking, I am assigning you to this task. It will make your career, and could save the lives of many people. I will not have you jeopardize this experiment so you can run amok with the menagerie and play [?] with this imbecile.

DOMHNALL: Of course! I mean, I don't understand what you just said, but never mind that! I'll go with you! I plan to!

BASIL: Don, don't!

DOCTOR LEATHERBY: If you don't stop wriggling, zookeeper, I'll stick you with this, and we'll get to test the effects of botulinum toxin on veterinarian, and I assure you, at this dose, all we'll be measuring is how long it takes you to meet Cerberus at the gates of hell! [Cerberus howls] Damn dog! And damn those interns!

What's that blinking light? Blast you, Barra. Are you still broadcasting? Turn it off, now! [audio cuts off]

ZOE CRICK: That just doesn't seem fair.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: No, it doesn't.

ZOE CRICK: Where does he get off dragging poor Domhnall into God knows what dangers?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Well, he's his boss, I suppose. It's still crappy, though.

ZOE CRICK: It really is. What if something happens to him? What will Baz do? Also, calling Baz an imbecile is not okay.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Baz is emotionally intelligent.

ZOE CRICK: Exactly. And that's the last recording we've got of theirs?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: So far. But you know, they might send out more.

ZOE CRICK: They'd better. Baz, Domhnall, if you're listening to this – actually, if you are listening to this, we're really sorry about broadcasting your private-ish conversations to lots of people without your permission. But also, please get in touch. We're worried about you.

#zombies run #zrs4 #s4 radio #s4 radio part 2 #zr transcript

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iwritegayfiction · 8 years ago

Text

A Bromance With Blurred Lines Is Definitely Still A Bromance So... Dude... Chill

The BirdFlash continues!!! Hi, long time no post!!! I’ve finished so many stories and even more stories that I haven’t posted so... let’s get back into tumbling, yeah? Yeah!

AO3: Here!

Rating: Mature.

Warning: Underage sexual activity (kind of). Bromancing.

Pairing: Wally/Dick, Roy/Dick, Dick/Zatanna, Wally/Artemis

Summary: In Which: Dick and Wally's Bromance is acknowledged and then it gets a little out of hand on Dick's Birthday.

A Bromance With Blurred Lines Is Definitely Still A Bromance So Dude… Chill…

Somewhere between knowing each other for four years, almost dying and then saving each other for the umpteenth time, and joining Young Justice or Junior Justice or the Titans or whatever, Wally starts calling Robin “babe”.

Okay, not “somewhere”.

He’s pretty sure it has to do with a lot of down time, some underage drinking, spin-the-bottle, and playing gay chicken with the other sidekicks. That, and then telling them that he doesn’t care if he has to hug or kiss Rob because Rob is a total babe –for a guy always hiding his face (it was a joke then and still is –kind of). So everyone gets used to their intense bromance (intense on account that they can casually cuddle and hug and kiss and slap each other’s asses and say ‘no homo’ before dissolving in a fit of laughter). And, after that, he sort of never stops calling Robin “babe” and Robin never stops answering to it and knows who Wally’s referring to when he says it.

And, truthfully, Rob is a “babe” for a lot of platonic, dude-admiring-dude reasons.

See, Wally has learned a lot about the Boy Wonder since they first met. Like, Rob knows about a dozen languages, he’s computer savvy, he’s a total goof ball (seriously –the guy likes pulling pranks and telling jokes, and laughing in general), and Wally doesn’t care what anyone else says but he swears the guy is a contortionist in addition to being a freaky incredible acrobat. (Has a flexibility that gives way to a lot of sex jokes –no lie).

But there’s more. A shit ton more.

Like, Robin always gets them out of a jam when they’re stuck and he’s not a meta but he damn sure beats the hell out of ‘em like he is one and he’s smart and just knows all of these things. And he’ll do next to anything to successfully complete a mission (like that one time when they had to infiltrate a club and Robin had to cross-dress and he was hot, sure, but- dude…).

But, bonus, the kid can drive –has been since he was 11 and still is now that he’s 14 but what’s driving when he can also fly an aircraft.

He’s also Richard “Dick” Grayson, which is something Wally found out a few years ago but that kind of makes him even more awesome. And not because he’s a billionaire’s kid and has the world at his disposal with those sapphire eyes and that charming smile but because he’s a billionaire’s kid and Robin and he has the world at his disposal. Honestly… the guy and Big B (whether that’s for Bats or Bruce doesn’t really matter anymore) could do whatever the hell they want but they play up their rich socialite lives and save the world when people think they’re sleeping or partying or doing whatever the hell it is that rich folks do. And Robin doesn’t act spoiled rotten (not really but he has his moments when he wants his way and he doesn’t hear “no” very often, which is being spoiled in it of itself).

And, alright.

He’s a really, really, good looking guy.

Must be and has to be considering he’s a teen heart throb that outranks all of the famous Justin’s combined or any boy group when it comes to the “who’s hot in Hollywood” scene. Dick isn’t even a real celebrity, for crying out loud but he still gets celebrity attention and worship and- And Wally can’t blame them because Dick is hot.

Or, well, he has his moments. A lot of moments (like when he’s stretching and bending and smirking and being smart or a smart ass or-), well, that’s not important.

Not at the moment.

Because-

Because it definitely sounds like the Wonder Boy is perfect but Wally knows that that’s not true either. And Dick knows his flaws and imperfections and embraces them and tries to rise above them and he’s awesome at that.

Sure, he has his own dark past and his own demons to contend with but Wally, or anyone else for that matter, would never know it because he’s so… he’s so bright.

Sunny?

Illuminating?

Something along those lines.

The point is, all of that condensed and packed into one person just makes that person a “babe” on principle.

Which makes Robin a “babe” in the most platonic, best friend, bro-admiring, way possible.

“Babe! C’mere!”

It takes Dick 30 seconds to get from the rec room to the kitchen. An eternity to a speedster. But he shows up with a raised brow and pursed lips- “You’re… cooking?” He eyes Wally who’s standing by the stove, right between Artemis and M’Gann and, from the smell of it, they’re making a stir-fry curry.

Wally turns and grins and licks at the spatula in his hand, “Arty and M’Gann are trying to teach me how because I eat a shit ton.”

Artemis frowns and snatches the spatula. “Kid Gluttony needs to put in his fair share of the work in the kitchen since he eats most of the food.”

“And here I thought you guys were just turning him into the perfect wife for me.”

Artemis snorts.

M’Gann giggles.

Wally grins and speeds over to Dick’s side, spoon in hand. “I’m already the perfect wife for you, babe! Taste this,” before Dick can protest, Wally has the spoon lodged between parting lips.

Being force-fed is one of those things that would have gotten Wally punched except- except the food is delicious and it makes Dick hum appreciatively because he swears his taste buds are being slaughtered in the best way possible…

“Told you, the perfect wife! Or husband if Arty knows what’s good for her.”

Now Dick’s snorting because Artemis blushes and scowls and throws onion peels at KF before the two get to bickering (which is their rendition of flirting –ask anyone).

M’Gann walks over and leans against Robin, eyes on the two, “They’re cute.”

Dick can’t disagree so he doesn’t.

A few months later, Wally zips into his room to tell him that he finally found the balls to ask Artemis out and she says yes. She actually says yes, to Wally’s great surprise. And they’re a thing –totally official.

Dick thinks it’s awesome and that Wally’s a lucky guy to be able to snag someone like Artemis because she’s way out of his league. That gets him a punch to the shoulder and then they end up wrestling and then they end up laughing and panting with their backs pressed to the cool floor and their arms touching.

Wally breathes out and smiles, “You know, you’re still my number one babe, even though I’ve got things going with Arty.”

“Dude, duh!” Best friends for life isn’t just a saying in the superhero business. Not when life can be cut short any day but that’s just Dick’s opinion. “Same to you, ya know.”

That makes Wally prop himself up on one arm to stare at Dick, green eyes studying a flushed face. The word “pretty” flashes across his mind but he ignores it in favor of asking, “What’s that mean?”

“Means you’re still my numero uno no matter who I’m with.” The tone is enough of a “duh” without the need for Dick to tack it on at the end.

“Wait a sec, you seein’ someone I don’t know about?” Red brows crease as Wally thinks about that.

And then he thinks about the fact that he’s never actually heard Dick talk about dating or who he likes or if he’s into someone or if any of the rumors in those gossip rags about who he might be seeing are true –none of that. Not to say that they don’t talk about who’s hot because, between Robin and Richard, Dick sees his fair share of gorgeous people. The lucky bastard. Point is, Wally’s never heard him talk about who he’s seeing or if he’s seeing anyone or if he’s interested in anyone. The end.

“I’m always seeing someone, Walls. No one worth mentioning or introducing to my best bro but, hey. What can I say. Dick Grayson is one hell of a catch and Robin’s hot stuff too!” Dick winks behind his sunglasses but he’s sure Wally can see it or picture it and then he reaches up to pat a freckled cheek, “How do you think I snagged you.”

And then he’s laughing when Wally scoffs. “I had you from the moment I said, ‘sup, little Bats’ and you know it.”

“Sure, you keep telling yourself that.” He lets his hand fall and cocks an eyebrow when green eyes keep studying his face, “…What?”

“You seein’ anyone now?”

“Why, you jealous?” Dick’s tone is as playful as the smirk on his face.

“Nah, curious. Maybe we can go on a double date or something?”

“As Dick and Wally or as Robin and KF?” Because there’s a difference.

“Depends… who are you seeing?”

Robin (yes, Robin because of that expression and that long drawn out stare that’s so very Batman, it reminds Wally that he’s talking to Robin) sits up and scoots back a bit. Gets some space between them. “I have a few clusive things going on at the moment but, if anything gets exclusive I’ll let you know.”

“Dude… sometimes I hate you and sometimes I want your life.”

Dick laughs and stands and pulls Wally up off of the floor. “If it makes you feel better, I never want your life and I hate you more than I don’t.”

Wally mock gasps, hands clutched at his chest, “Ouch… I swear I felt my heart break.”

“You’ll get over it.” Dick cackles but it cuts off and turns into a surprised yelp when Wally tackles him back to the ground, mercilessly tickling his sides.

Yeah… Dick is a total babe and, obviously, Wally isn’t the only one who thinks so if the guy’s got a few “clusive” things happening at the moment.

II.

It’s M’Gann who prompts their relationship to change but she can’t be blamed for what happens.

She finds out that Dick spent his 15th birthday fighting Clayface and patrolling with Batman and not doing anything birthday like in the least. Not that he can tell her that Bruce did celebrate with him. Got him a new motorcycle and a retractable electric-shock tonfa and gave it to him after they went out for the best Seafood New York City had to offer –all birthday things by his account, at least for Dick Grayson. But, see, he can’t tell her that so she thinks he needs to be celebrated. And since she’s been on this “celebration” kick where everything- holidays, birthdays, religious affairs- deserve a celebration of some sort, that’s what they decide to do.

As normal teens because she wants the whole experience for herself and him. (Because they all sort of think that Batman keeps him on a tight leash and “Robin” doesn’t have a relatively normal adolescence because he’s a Bat –being a kick ass protégé aside).

With the way she smiles and lights up at the prospect of celebrating, Dick can’t refuse.

So, when she says that they should go to a party that her friends from school are throwing on a Friday night plus the team has no missions going on and they’re all present for the first time in forever (even Speedy- er- Red Arrow), Dick definitely caves.

Why not?

Little do they know, he likes a good party or a club or a bar because being Richard Grayson and hanging out with society’s elite sometimes has its perks. Sometimes. Like buying out a VIP section and dancing and drinking and pretending for the briefest of moments that the world didn’t almost end hours or days ago… sometimes that’s nice. Sometimes.

Batman told him to have fun and enjoy his weekend. Be a teen for a change. And Dick always takes advantage of those rare opportunities because, sometimes, he needs a breather.

But- The party. Or, the house party packed with hormones and adrenaline after a big football game. Typical high school party by any standards (standards being beer, music, and horny teens). Dick feels like he’s in one of his elements because he likes to dance. Likes to dance and drink and he’s oh-so good at drawing people in and being the life of a party when he wants to be –comes from years of practice and being Bruce Wayne’s son. (When he doesn’t want to be the center of attention, he’s even better at being an observant shadow).

But- um- The party.

The team as a collective has never seen this particular side to him. Not really. His alter element (ha!). But they like “off-duty” Dick and they all embrace him differently.

Megan gets a kick out of his outfit (all black, all tight fitting, and it accentuates his best features –it’s like a Bat rule to wear black, clingy clothes, and look good for all occasions). She says he’s, “Friggin’ hot” and gladly introduces him to all of her friends on the cheer squad. They can’t believe he’s only 15 but they can’t get enough of him. They eat up his charm and try to keep him –makes the football players jealous (for a number of reasons if he has to guess).

But he has Conner so he doesn’t worry about it much. Conner intimidates the bullheaded football players that eye Dick. He doesn’t give a damn what their thoughts are but he’s not letting anything happen under his watch –not with the threat of Batman looming over his head.

Artemis and Zatanna drag Dick into the dead center of the thriving mass of bodies in what used to be the living room but is now a dance floor. Neither of them are surprised that Dick can dance and he’s gorgeous and moves like the music is made specifically for him to move to it. They love it! They sandwich him and kiss him and run their hands everywhere and they all laugh and try to keep up or take the lead or those two just let him lead. They probably dance for an hour straight –it’s that fun- but it’s fine because he has a good time and he gets birthday kisses out of it from two of the most beautiful girls he knows. Well- more of a mind numbing make out with Zatanna as she snags the back of his neck and teases her tongue along the seam of his lips before slipping it in and getting a taste. She tastes like sin and sugar.

Dick considers himself winning.

Kaldur’s the one that offers him a break from the dance floor. Shares Dick’s first drink of the night with him because it’s a tradition –both one that they’ve formed and an Atlantean birthday custom. So they drink and talk about the difference between surface life and non-surface life and parties top-side versus parties seaside. But Dick can’t help seeing everything or multitasking, thus, when the girl by the door who’s been watching Kaldur all night takes a bold step towards them, he pushes his friend off on her because Atlanteans deserve a break too.

Roy gives him his second kiss of the night. That one kiss leads to being pinned against a door upstairs and Dick hitching himself up and locking his legs around strong hips while tangling his fingers in soft red hair. To imprinting beer and cigarette toxins and fast-food on shocked tastes buds via mouth-to-mouth. To swollen lips and teeth tugging at the sensitive flesh just beneath the ear or right along the jaw –leaving marks in desperation as hands grip and pull. It makes Dick cuss and pant and gasp sweetly into Roy’s mouth when the hothead sucks on his bottom lip and traces gums with the tip of his tongue.

Between breaths, Roy leans back and leers and smirks all cocky- “This is such a bad idea.” Because it is. Every time they end up like that, it’s one of the best “bad ideas”. Ever.

Dick pushes his glasses up, up, up, until they’re sitting atop his head and then he’s all teeth and constricted pupils. A predator. “I’ve been an accomplice to worse ideas.”

True. Very true.

It kills Roy’s feeble attempt at an argument to dissuade them from going further.

So they make out some more and when the door opens and they topple backwards and end up in a heap laughing, it stops there but it isn’t the first time they’ve made out and they never make any promises about a last.

But, Dicks last dance and last kiss for the night are given to the one person he doesn’t expect them to end with, yet, at the same time, he kind of does.

Wally.

He’s relatively drunk by the time they end up pressed together in the middle of the dance floor. Drunk, but not unaware. So when Wally replaces the girl behind him, Dick knows. Recognizes the hands that clumsily guide and sway his hips and pulls him unbearably close. Is familiar with the chin that gets tucked against his shoulder and the soft lips that brush along his neck when Wally whispers, “Happy birthday, Little Bats”. But then, those lips keep moving and pressing and teeth get into the mix and a lazy trail burns from just behind the ear to shoulder. Makes Dick’s mind stutter and blank out as he tilts his head and still moves to the music.

At some point, they escape the throng on the makeshift dance floor but Dick can’t say when or how that happens.

So he’s not sure how they end up on the trampoline in the backyard. How Wally ends up slotted between his welcoming thighs as that warm mouth eagerly attaches to the pale flesh of neck and collar and jaw. Or how Wally devours every little moan and giddy sigh while staring at Dick like he’s just- he’s everything. And he definitely can’t comprehend why Wally is literally vibrating but it feels so incredible and he’s so hard it aches to shift in his god forbidden skinny jeans. But shifting is the least of his- their problems because they are most certainly grinding against each other and Dick is whining and saying “Walls… man… c’mon…” And then his bottom lip is being savored and his mouth is being teased- “C’mon…” He whines again.

To which, Wally snorts and chases after swollen lips before muttering, “I’ll c’mon alright.”

A haughty retort sits at the tip of Dick’s tongue but it dies there all the same because Wally has his hips and he’s just grinding down and rutting and vibrating and- and- Dick can’t think straight. Can’t breathe right. Can’t see clearly. His nerves are on fire and short-circuiting and his heart is trying to thump right out of his chest- “Ah- shit-” He clutches at strong shoulders.

“It’s okay, babe. It’s okay,” Wally murmurs sweetly while grunting and mouthing Dick’s earlobe-

And Dick cums right in his pants. Swears he sees stars as he rides out his orgasm and Wally’s smug smile is the last thing he clearly remembers about the night.

“So… we gonna talk about this or…”

“Or.” Dick bites out because he has a headache that’s making one side of his head throb irritatingly with every sound and every attempt at speech and his eyes feel like they’re being stabbed –repetitively- and his mouth is all dry and cottony.

Yeah.

Definitely not the time to talk. But he doubts he’ll get away so easily.

Doesn’t hurt to try.

Green eyes stare at Dick with consideration and then Wally thinks, consideration be damned and he sits on the counter where Dick is slumped. “Dude… we- um… we should talk.” Because they need to and because he needs help because he technically cheated on Artemis with his best bro and- and it’s weird as all hell and-

Ice blue eyes cast a sidelong glance in Wally’s direction and Dick prays that they convey his thoughts on the matter but Kidiot is being so willful far too early in the morning- “Talk.”

Something about that makes Wally smile but then it’s replaced by this odd half-smile and half-grimace- “So… we hooked up last night.”

Dick sits up and stares, makes Wally flush a gorgeous shade of crimson. “Sure. It happened. We were inebriated. We always goof around and some lines got blurred because of the previous. We’re horny, hormonal, teenage boys and shit like this happens. This doesn’t make you gay –queer maybe but not gay. If you’re gay then so is Arty because she hooked up with Zatanna right after making out with M’Gann. So, really, we’re all just teenagers here and all of this experimentation was bound to happen. But you and I are still best bros. I’m just crazy hot and irresistible so I don’t blame you for giving in to temptation. And none of this is weird.” He pauses for effect. Even manages a smirk. “Need anything else or can this talk be considered complete so that I can go back to bed.” All he wanted from the kitchen was water but he ends up with more of a headache instead.

Very unproductive –emphasis on the un.

Wally sits there, jaw slack and mind racing because- because Dick is a total dick but he just said everything that really needed saying so… “Man, I think I love you!” And he forgets about the whole hangover thing when he slaps Dick’s back.

Dick glares and rubs his temples and can still manage a joke despite wanting to get to bed and feeling shitty. “One night and you’re already in love. Damn, I’m good.”

“I sort of remember doing all of the work last night.” It’s funny how he can joke about it now that Dick’s cleared the air but that’s how best friends operate so Wally considers it all good.

“But it was because I made you want to do all of the work. I’m clearly amazing. Now lemme go back to bed.” Dick doesn’t wait for Wally to give him the go ahead before he stands and starts moving towards his room.

On his way, when he passes by M’Gann’s room, he makes a mental note to thank her for one of the best birthdays. Ever.

#DCU #DC Comics #DC Comic Universe #dick grayson #Wally West #Kid Flash #Robin #Batman #The Flash #Slash #BirdFlash #Young Justice #Teen Titans #Roy Harper #Zatanna Zatara #Artemis Crock #Bromance

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