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orangegreet · 3 years ago

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No Minor Miracles | Chapter 2

An Evening in Winter

The darkest evening in winter begs for just a sliver of light.

If he thought things would change for them following their late night miracle, Aleksander was sourly mistaken.

Months went by without contact.

The more angry he became about it, the more it confirmed that he was out of control.

Seeing her, being vulnerable to her, opened a floodgate. A torrent of warring emotions swirled around him so that he struggled to even name them properly before they shifted again.

Despite assertions made by Alina on prior occasions that these feelings created a more rewarding experience in life, this inability to distance himself from every nuance of emotion degraded his mental state.

Centuries of conquering every thought. Controlling every outcome. A puppeteer to countless Tsars with whole nations bent to his will—all to be undone by a slip of a woman who had barely existed for even three decades.

Alina, this one person to whom he was bound, body and soul, just happened to be so far outside of his grasp that he couldn’t name a single city she had passed through since the day she left Os Alta. For everything she knew about him, he couldn’t name a single one of her goals, objectives, accomplishments, or desires. It was humiliating.

She had promised he was one of her desires.

At least, this is what he clung to in the early days. Ruminating by the fire or letting his thoughts slip into this reassurance over another lonely meal or late in the night when he awoke without cause and stared out the window.

These were things he had never done before. Foreign and juvenile behaviors. Yet he allowed them to continue bringing him comfort. Allowed them freedom to permeate his day as he had let nothing else in several millennia.

Until the nagging doubt began to seep in.

Did she say exactly that she desired him?

It seemed burned into his brain at one time but some memories of that night which he previously savored began to disintegrate.

When they reformed, new perspectives propagated themselves like weeds in his recollections.

They drifted in to discolor formerly pleasant thoughts during an evening bath; late nights were spent hunched over a desk dissecting vaguely remembered words.

Madness stole over him at odd moments.

War council meetings were sometimes punctuated with abrupt surges of intensity which forced him to nail his hands to his sides lest he sic shadows into the throats of the King’s men.

An afternoon horse ride intended to invigorate and chase away all thought instead stamped his misgivings to the wall of his mind as decisively as hooves sunk into mud.

She had called him inevitable. Her Inevitable.

Inevitability did not exactly parallel desire.

Still, he refused to call to her. The one weakness he would not submit to again.

It was during these months following when the General discovered he’d grown a distinct bitterness toward his Heartrender as well.

It was the rancor in his own voice when he issued commands that tipped him off. Followed with a silent seething when the orders were carried out to perfection.

No accolades were awarded in the face of the exemplary service; eventually no words of gratitude expressed at all yet Ivan remained stoically indifferent.

Unfortunately this only fed the festering malice.

The Darkling persevered to tamp it down. The longer he was away from Alina, the more desperately he tried pull the armor back around himself. Only, to his increasing distress, the cracks in the facade would not be patched.

This, the General realized, was the source of his ire. Understanding came to him in the form of some sudden glaring prophecy that he could never have foretold.

With regret, he understood the advantage of having the most highly skilled Heartrender in the Second Army at his side, also meant employing a man who was privy to every betraying fault in the rhythms of the General’s chest.

His growing madness had physical tells and it would not do to have them known to anyone but himself. Every staccato, every irregularity, every tremor exposed his ever slipping control.

Ivan knew too much.

Initially, the Darkling resigned himself to killing his right hand. In his defense, he fully intended to do the deed himself—bequeathing the task to another would be dishonorable to the decades of otherwise impeccable service.

However multiple strategy sessions spent visualizing every step that would follow such a death led him back to the beginning to start again. A new tactic to try, a different scenario to explore.

Until he eventually determined there was no true gain for him in Ivan’s death.

The bitter reality of the situation was this: no one could be by his side except a Heartrender. And yet no other Heartrender had ever shown such aptitude for pain, control, precision and, ultimately, discretion.

No one could replace the man. His death could not be borne since it would bring no peace.

Any replacement to follow would be just as dialed in to the state of his or her General, but their loyalty was too great a variable to gamble.

And so he was left with one recourse.

“You asked for me, moy soverennyi?”

“Fedyor. Yes, enter.” The General stood from his desk, brushing past Ivan and coming around the War table.

“I have a new assignment for you.”

“I am glad to serve, General.”

“The Fjerdan outposts are in desperate need of strong leadership. The caliber of your performance in the Second Army is recommendation enough for me. You are being promoted to Major and sent to the front in Tsibeya at dawn.”

Fedyor’s eyes slipped past his General briefly to land on Ivan before snapping back and allowing a pleased smile in return.

“Thank you, General. I will make you proud.”

The General nodded his dismissal and waited until Feydor left the room to return to his desk.

The General sat at his desk.

Hours passed while he wrote letters to his commanders, instructions for individual missions, referenced maps and calculated coordinates. Ivan remained silently, dutifully at attention beside him. The lunch hour passed, neither man broke the silence.

For these hours, the General worked harder than he had in months at keeping his emotions in check, his blood running cool and breaths even. The sound of quill scratching on parchment, drawers opening and closing—he was determined these would be the only irregularities for these few hours.

No work was given to Ivan. He asked for no input from his Heartrender and let the hours pass essentially ignoring the man.

Ivan did not break.

Dinner came. Two meals sent up from the kitchens. The General ate without comment. His Lieutenant did not move.

“Food not to your liking, Ivan?” The attempt to keep his tone neutral was undermined by the slightest sneer.

“I am grateful for everything provided to me. All of it in service to the Second Army. To all Grisha and to you, General.”

The grip on Aleksander’s fork tightened.

“And yet you do not eat.”

“Hunger escapes me at the moment.” Ivan cleared his throat and continued, “I will take my meal with me at dismissal, it will not go to waste.”

“Very well.”

More hours passed.

Ivan stood at attention.

He did not ask when he would be relieved for the evening. He did not point out how odd it was for the General to remain confined to his desk for twelve hours straight. He did not ask for anything.

Finally, it was Fedyor who broke the stalemate.

“Pardon me, moy soverennyi.” The new Major reentered the War Room at well past midnight.

“Of course, Fedyor. Are you packed?”

“I am, sir. Thank you. I came to ask—“ Fedyor’s eyes again slipped to Ivan and then back to the General and he straightened his posture again.

“I came to ask if I might borrow Ivan. J-just for a few hours, sir. Until departure.”

The General stared at Ivan— his expression remained stubbornly neutral though he thought he saw an eyebrow twitch.

“I realize my request is impertinent and on the heels of a promotion—I do not mean to ask for too much. You are well within rights to deny—“

“Fedyor,” The General held up a hand.

He glanced at Ivan again who gave no sign of acknowledgment. It could almost be believed that he did not know Fedyor.

“Not impertinent at all, Major. Ivan, is it your wish to be dismissed for the evening?”

Fedyor looked confused as he watched his impassive partner. Confusion slipped into hurt and Fedyor took a back step toward the door.

“Moy soverennyi.” Ivan spoke loudly. Realizing his mistake, he quickly adjusted his volume.

“Yes, if it is at your leave, I wish to accompany Fedyor for the remainder of the evening.”

The surge of victory within the General was brief.

In the next moment, Ivan tore his eyes from Fedyor and stared directly at the General, “In addition, it is my wish to escort the Major to the front. At your leave, of course, General.”

This was unprecedented. Unplanned. Unpredicted. A simple extortion tactic gone awry. He only meant to twist the pressure point in his Heartrender. Prove to his Lieutenant that it was not only the General who had a weakness. Embarrass him as he felt embarrassed.

For Ivan to turn it around and instead request a leave of some three weeks—for the journey to Tsibeya is a long one—was beyond comprehension.

Somehow Ivan tipped out all his cards on the table when all the General wanted to prove was knowledge of what he was holding.

The top two officers in the Second Army stared at each other for several long moments.

“I will consider the request. Dismissed. Both of you.”

“Moy soverennyi.” They said with a bow, but he had already turned his back.

Aleksander did not get to sleep that night.

When morning came he stood outside to see the newly appointed Major off to the front.

“Hold.” He instructed the coach driver in his perch.

“Ivan. I’ve come to a decision about your request. You will escort our Major to the front and are granted two weeks of leave to do so.”

Ivan struggled to suppress his surprise.

“However I’ve detailed an itinerary for the return trip. It’s been too long since I have been to outposts in that area directly. Once in Tsibeya, you will travel the rest of the Fjerdan front and our holdings along the Fold. You are to visit for a total of 4 or 5 days at each camp and report back to me. I want to know which camps are low on resources, which have become sloppy, areas of improvement and any developments. No detail is too small. I want to names. I want recommendations.”

It was Fedyor who composed himself first. “Perhaps you should go pack quickly, Lieutenant.”

“Of course.” Ivan said, “General, thank you for the opportunity.”

The General gave him a curt nod and the two men in red disappeared.

Though his plans skewed sideways, Aleksander managed to secure what he needed. Peace. Solitude.

No one around to witness the attempt to tame what Alina set free inside of him. His wretched Sun Summoner.

His life had been nomadic for so long. Even as a General he never stayed in the same place longer than a month unless it was necessary. With Ivan as his eyes and ears on the ground, Aleksander was free to remain in the Little Palace for the winter.

He saw few people, spoke to fewer still except when required to request food or have a bath drawn, a letter sent. The Royal Family retreated to the Southern Palace for winter and took their share of the War Council with them. This suited him quite well. Communication over correspondence was easier when it came to strong-arming the tactics. Not that the King’s men bothered much to engage with the war over the winter. That was for the Second Army General and First Army commanders to sort out. The King would take the credit for the victories or redirect the blame accordingly.

Even with the solitude, sleep was difficult to come by. He felt as if he had been running great distances for months on end; his body in a constant state of awareness only to find the coal bucket empty and the engine slowing to a crawl.

More frequently he stayed confined to his quarters, conducting his work at odd hours when he felt he could concentrate. Other times he stared unseeing out the window and over the grounds. Grisha children played and trained under the tutelage of the older students and soldiers on leave. Their voices carried up from the grounds and for the first time in memory he paused to listen to their conversations. Simply for the sake of his own curiosity.

He did not interact with them and sooner or later, the malaise would set in and his mind would be lost to the present once more.

Most nights Aleksander found himself sat by the fireplace in his arm chair with a nightcap.

On this night he was kept awake reviewing the reports Ivan sent him on a daily basis. Thorough work. Exemplary work. Aleksander sighed.

One week and a half to enjoy together and then split apart for an undetermined amount of time. During a war, no less.

Ivan made no mention of his assignment, nor Fedyor’s. News from Fedyor, though slightly less formal, was no less professional.

He wondered to himself at his ability to control two such destinies as theirs, one letter from each of them in each of his hands. He considered the power he wielded over them so successfully. So easily.

A very small darkness in him purred at his own actions even as the rest of him could not stop fretting over the decision.

Was it necessary to have done this? He never would have cared before.

Fedyor was proving to be an excellent leader for an otherwise miserable post. Ivan was somehow more thorough and likely more suspicious than even the General so he could have no concerns about the strategy behind in their placements on the board of this war.

But was it necessary to remove either man from their stations in order to keep them apart? Specifically to keep them apart to spite his most loyal Lieutenant?

It was getting difficult to remember why this had all started. He never would have cared before.

“Hello Aleksander.”

He closed his eyes at the sound of her whispered greeting.

Could she have picked any other night? Any other than this one?

“Why do you haunt me when I feel at my weakest to defend myself?” He asked.

“You are always droll when we meet. First I am your demon and now I am your ghost.”

Months he sat wrecked in this very room wishing for her to call to him. Not daring touch the tether himself but simply hoping she wanted to see him.

How was she here?

He opened his eyes and looked over at her. It stole his breath to see her shy smile and he mourned again how weak he had become.

“You’re radiant.” He was flat-toned and sparse in his review but his eyes swallowed up every detail from her elegant, styled hair to the glittering gold necklace draped across her collarbone.

She arrived half undressed for the evening with only a boning corset and thin layer of skirts which would typically be hidden under a fine dress of silk. They were cream colored and plain and it was with added misery that he noted she had a soft glow about her.

A vague nudge in his brain hinted that he was curious about her evening activities but he found he did not have the energy to pester her. Not tonight.

She looked on him with concern and then came to kneel before him, resting her chin on his knee. He exhaled.

“I have never seen your feet before.” Her tone was amused and interested. Looking down at his bare feet peeking out from the large fur he pulled around himself before taking a seat by the fire.

He exhaled a quiet laugh, resigned to let her do all the talking for a change.

“Do you know what tonight is?” She asked.

Hair fell into her face and he brushed it back.

“I admit I don’t.”

His voice was gruff with disuse and she sat quietly contemplating his mood.

“Have you received bad news?”

Alina cast a curious eye on the letters from his two Heartrenders, held loose in his hand and quite close to her face.

He started and quickly folded them up.

At the movement she pulled away from him lest she catch a knee to the chin.

“Did you come here simply to investigate my affairs and then flit away again for another year?” He snapped, throwing the letters outside of his reach and consequently outside her view.

“O-Of course not—“

“Then why have you come?” He demanded.

She opened and closed her mouth, unwilling to voice the obvious.

If Alina was here, it was because he was the one who called to her. She answered.

Aleksander took a deep breath and pulled the furs tighter around himself. He thought of the letters, the pair of Heartrenders, the unbearable sadness he felt now and looked away from her in shame.

Now she was here, the thought of her discovering his ill-conceived retribution on Ivan was deeply distressing. Why tonight of all nights?

“It’s been many nights since I have seen you awake in my visits.” Her voice was so soft, so timid.

His sadness expanded under the weight of the implication. He had been calling to her in his sleep. Who knows how many times in the last few months.

She answered.

She answered and still she never called to him.

He thought about opening his mouth to speak but his jaw did not want to move. Eyes fixed on the night sky out the window.

He felt her move close again. A small hand reaching under the furs to find his.

“You need sleep.” She pulled him to his feet. When he realized she wasn’t letting go, he tightened his own grip and walked her to his bed. His fur fell away, exposing his chest and black sleep trousers.

With hesitation, he lay his head on his pillow, looking almost as if he wasn’t sure if he was using it correctly. She exhaled a soft laugh and smiled, climbing into the bed.

Alina situated herself against the headboard, maneuvering his pillow into her lap and stroked over his bare shoulder and down his back. She gathered his torso in her arms, folding herself over him possessively.

Aleksander squeezed his eyes shut, his own arms circling her thighs and pulling her to him.

She hummed her pleasure.

To be touched so freely, so thoroughly was his undoing. Part of his life-force returned to him at her touch and he held her small body tighter around him. She did not seem to mind.

“Why do you never call me to you, moya solnyshka?”

He could not see her face for which they were both glad while she thought about how to answer him.

“It would not be wise.” She said eventually.

The rejection burned. She must have felt it.

“If I brought you to me each time I wanted you, I would not let you leave.”

His insides cooled. It did not change his demeanor but she smoothed the edges with her words. She was not sure that she should have said it.

“Then it is cruel of you to stay away.”

She laughed. “Good.”

“Good? Good that you are cruel to me?”

His eyes turned to look up at her. A teasing smile alighted her face as she leaned over him.

“Yes. I sometimes think you confuse cruelty with justice. This world has been unjust to you so you deliver it your cruelty. It is good for you to feel this difference.”

He huffed and rolled his eyes. It made him look so young to her that she chuckled and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“You think it is your role to teach me such lessons?”

“Would you listen to anyone else?”

His eyes narrowed at her. “If you asked me to listen to someone else, I would consider it.”

She blushed. Outside it was cold and dark and the world was scarred with the cruel things he had wrought. But right now his little sun was here and she was gently giddy and she relished holding him as no one had in several lifetimes.

He reached a hand up to tangle in her hair and brought her lips to his. They were soft. Her pulse thrummed under his palm and he smiled that he did not need to be a Heartrender to know her rhythm in that second.

“You say sweet things sometimes.” She stroked his brow with her pinky. “Be wary of the man who has sweet words and sour actions.” She said this to him in a wisened, deep voice, finishing with a giggle.

“Just what devilish proverb is that your casting over my bedsheets?”

She tilted her head back with mirth, “That is a Pabelism.”

“Am I supposed to understand this phrase?” She beamed down at him as her eyes danced with a private joke.

“Just a man named Pabel who taught me one or two or two million things like that when I was younger.”

He quirked his eyebrows at her, “Hmm. Sounds like the opposite of the things my mother would say. Where your Pabel warns you away from such a vagrant, Baghra would likely make the same man a job offer.”

Her cackle surprised him, “I’m sorry. It’s just…that is funnier than you know.”

The gaudy necklace chose that moment to come loose from her neck and she clutched it back to her sternum before it could fall.

“Sorry about that.” She let it drop into her hand and a moment later, it was gone. Presumably dumped next to her in whatever place her real body lay at the moment.

Aleksander remembered again that she was not truly there. It unnerved him.

Perhaps he already felt the loneliness of the Little Palace before now but with her light here, it cast bigger shadows and he grew fearful of its absence.

“Alina.” His fingertips trailed the outline where her necklace just lay, “Where were you tonight?”

“Aleks—“

“Don’t—“ He brushed his fingers over her lips and his voice was softer than it had ever been when he asked, “No specifics necessary. Just—It makes me crazy at times how little I know about your days and your nights. I want to picture them. I want to picture you as you are in real life.”

She still looked unsure.

He sat up. “You see me here, Alina.” He gestured around himself. “You know the Little Palace. You could name several members of my guard and soldiers. You’ve seen meetings in my War Room and you have watched me pay courtesy to the bloody King and Court.”

His voice cracked with the volume and he lowered it again, not wanting to frighten her. “As if that were not enough, you see me sleep. Do you know how maddening this is?”

He did look mad on this night. His long hair was wild and fell in thick sheets around his shoulders. The bags under his eyes and pallor of his skin told her that he was neither sleeping nor eating well. His chest which was bare now without the protection of his furs also seemed somewhat more lean. A clear loss of muscle mass and strength. It was easily the most vulnerable she had ever seen him.

Alina looked more conflicted than ever which he hoped meant that she at least wanted to share something with him. Her hands fidgeted with his, picking at callouses in his palm.

“I want to see you in the sunlight. And if you will not allow me that right now, I want to imagine you there.”

He was speaking soft, kissing her hair.

“This is why it is hard to see you,” she whispered. “I want to share these things with you. But we are not there yet.”

“You still are not convinced of my devotion to you? You do not trust that I will be on your side in whatever you do?”

“No. It is not that at all. You do not see it because you are here. You are running an army and behaving like a General and carrying out orders for a King on the opposite side of the Fold from me. W-We are world’s apart, Aleksander.”

She was being reticent again, saying only a fraction of what she was thinking.

Where his hand was lax in her grip, he now curled it around her fingers.

“That is why I want to begin to do things together. You could show yourself—come out of hiding and show the world that the Sun Summoner is no mere rumor. She is more than a mythical saint who delivers nameless people from certain death. You and I could show all of Ravka the power we two can harness. We can lead Grisha everywhere out of hiding and into true sanctuary.”

His brain and body were alive with energy for the first time since this horrible winter set in. The intensity of it was channeled through his eyes where he held her gaze.

“No, Sasha. We cannot. I-I cannot. Not now.”

“But why, Alina?” He gripped her arms, willing to shake the information loose from her lips but she merely stared back at him with a pained look.

“Everything is different on my side of the Fold. I cannot explain everything right now but I will someday, I promise you that. One day I will share everything with you and we will not keep anything from each other.”

“And should I decide to come to that side of the Fold of my own accord?”

It wasn’t a threat. At least she wanted to believe it was not but his demeanor shifted into that of the General beginning negotiations.

She frowned. “I would ask you to consider that your are not the only one who plans for a better future for Grisha. I have plans of my own in motion. Plans that will turn to ruin if they are disrupted by the revelation of my identity as the Sun Summoner—or by the attentions of the Shadow Summoner.”

He stared hard at her, eyes wide, willing to read her secrets through her very skull.

She continued, “You should also know on this side of the Fold, there are those you have harmed who would seek retaliation on you. I do not know that I can stop them.”

His eyes hardened as he looked at her, a haughty expression stealing him away.

“Those I have harmed? Who exactly do you mean?”

She sighed and shrugged a shoulder. “Does it matter? I do not think you notice or think of it as harm. You do things as a General in war and those actions hurt people. People who are dear to me.”

“Tell me which people are dear to you and I will see that it is stopped.”

“Do not mock me.”

“Perhaps you could draft a list? First and last names please, followed by their exact locations and their specific relationship to you.”

She glared at him, “You know, for as long as I have desired you and wanted to keep you for myself, you have made it very difficult for me to be able to do so in good conscious. It seems that you do nothing but set up more obstacles for us.”

He sighed, running a hand over her hair in supplication. “Surely you can meet me halfway on this, Alina. Tell me how to make things right for us right now and I will do everything in my power to see it through. You cannot leave me in the dark forever.”

“I do not want to leave you anywhere but you are asking me to give you all the answers to how to be good. I cannot lead you out of the dark with my light alone. You have your own light in you.” She poked at his chest. “One which you have neglected for far, far too long. I cannot unearth it for you.”

If he did not think she might disappear on principle, he would have rolled his eyes at her. Dramatically. Still he couldn’t contain every speck of annoyance from crossing his features.

She held his face in her hands, willing him to hear her. “You think I am being trite but I am not. You have a light that is your own inside yourself. You have to be willing to find it. Just as I have found my own darkness within me.”

She could tell this intrigued him. If she could provide him some measure of comfort, it would be the knowledge that she was not the Sainted Sankta, untouchable and untarnished. She was not better than, just different.

“What darkness have you found?” He was worried for her. She looked away, nervous to divulge too much.

“I have learned of some kinds of darkness. I have seen its uses and I have exerted them when I had no other option.”

“The girl I knew looked on darkness and thought it blasphemy.” He was sardonic and baiting her with a quirk of his eyebrow.

“I could not have remained the naive girl you once knew.”

“What changed?” His tone was flat but she felt his temper building under the surface.

“When we were here together all those years ago, when I found out who you were and what you had done; The Fold, the creation of an army, a dozen deaths and a dozen resurrections of yourself—I was…intrigued.”

Aleksander sat back from her, kneeling and leaned away. “‘Intrigued’, is it? Not ‘repulsed’? Not ‘horrified’? Because I believe those were words you used then—“

Alina cringed at the memory, “I remember what I said.” She cut him off before his temper could derail them.

“I am sorry. What I know now is that you are not what frightens me. I feel the suffering of our people and I have heard their stories and seen their scars every day of my life. What truly frightened me then and what frightens me now is how easily I could sink into vengeance myself, same as you.”

His mind could not process. The place in his head in which Alina lived, an Alina full of brightness and charm and grace, could not also harbor the urge to plot, to maim, to rule over otkazat’sya lives in the same way his blood thirsted for it.

He told her as much. “You do not know what it is to seek vengeance nor retribution. You're practically still a child. You could not know the depths of pain that would drive you to see a thousand otkazat’sya lives crushed beneath your boots. When they look upon your little sunbeams they will weep and bow and worship you for them as equally as they have punished me for my shadows. Do not compare your vengeance to mine. You will never have to know the terror and impotence of watching a gang of otkazat’sya rape and torture and mutilate while your hands are bound.”

She laughed at him. An empty, pitying laugh.

That stoked his ire to breaking point. He fisted a hand in her hair and pulled her to his face.

Through gritted teeth he snarled at her. “Do not mock me now, Alina. It is one thing to withhold your saint-given light from me. That is your right. But do not pretend to own a sliver of my darkness in you. I earned it. I bled for it. I watched thousands of Grisha bleed for it.”

Far from being frightened at this outburst she closed her eyes and leaned her forehead into his.

“You are starting to understand. This is what I am trying to telling you. I am not claiming to own your darkness. It is not your darkness or your shadows in me. They are my own. Born of my own experiences.”

Her eyes lifted to his. His grip on her hair had loosened. “You cannot be my teacher in darkness because I cannot allow you to get close to the darkness I harbor. It is mine to discover and understand and tame. When I am around you, you pull them out of me, Sasha. Just as my light calls out the light in you. Have you not felt it in yourself?”

He said nothing. He thought of his insanity. His madness. The rage, the desire, the unbearable sadness he was currently struggling to escape. Was this his light? He had never felt so acutely. It would be fitting that his light did little else but illuminate his pain.

“I have hope that one day we are strong enough to wield both within ourselves but right now I am afraid of dragging you down a moral path you do not wish to be on just as I am afraid you will lead me down a dark road that is not my own. Do you see now what would happen if we came together before both of us were ready? You would come to believe there was no goodness in you without me and I would blame you for the wrath that I harbor even if it is my own.

“We would hate each other in the end. I’ve already told you I cannot let that happen.” She whispered.

“Say something.” She brushed her palms over his head.

When he found it, his voice was husky.

“Leave.”

“Aleksander,” Her hands landed his shoulders.

He tried to pull away from her. She pulled him back.

He surprised her by gripping her jaw in his palm, his breath was hot on her face.

“No. Fuck your plans. Fuck your light.” He looked at her like a caged beast and his skin was emanating heat, “You denied me my own justice years ago when you would not stay with me and now you casually seek to exact the same retribution. How fucking noble of you.”

She yanked her jaw from his grip and pushed at his chest.

“Do not blame me for the flaws in your plan, you saints-forsaken fool. You are the one who hinged everything on controlling a person who you did not know and had not met. Fuck you and fuck your plan. You’re no better than the otkazat’sya who would trade me into indentured servitude.”

Shadows were pouring out of him and she knew the motion for the Cut on instinct. His eyes were wild with rage and she took a chance, snagging one of his wrists in each hand before he could release the blade. She tackled him to his back on the bed where she kept him pinned.

Both of them were panting as she perched over him.

“The Cut? Saints, Sasha. What were you going to do if that actually killed me?”

“We both know it wouldn’t have,” he growled. His wild eyes roamed her face. “Best case, it would have severed our connection and I could get some bloody peace for once. I could finally think.”

He squeezed his eyes shut. Though he could overpower her, even he was frightened of his actions and couldn’t bring himself to move.

He felt her hands loosen their grip on his wrists.

“You’re right.” Her weight shifted off of him and he opened his eyes to see her holding her knees to her chest on the bed beside him.

“It is selfish to keep coming back here when I know I am not ready.”

Aleksander watched her with wary eyes.

“We should go back to how things were before. It’s cleaner.”

He was breathing deeply, willing words to come out of his mouth but his jaw wouldn’t move anymore. The energy that she brought with her, the energy that invigorated him like nothing else had this entire winter, was evaporating with her. His personal setting sun. Everything was happening quick. It always was with them. He had no words.

“Just—“ She closed her eyes and then opened them to meet his, they glistened with unshed tears. He wished he could feel something.

He did a little. But it was far away from him. Like a pebble thrown into the depths of a cave, hitting the stone walls and bouncing on the ground before going quiet.

“Everything I do, I am doing it for our people. Yours and mine. And maybe it is vain but I hope that in the end you will truly see me as your equal. Even if you end up hating me for eternity. I think I could endure your hatred so long as I still had your respect, at least.”

His eyes did not blink. He needed to see her fade out of existence.

Even when he was alone, he didn’t move. He could not bring himself to shift his head onto the pillow. He stared the same direction he had been staring, only now that she was gone, he had a clear view of the night sky outside.

It was an oppressive kind of dark outside. This was especially notable given his room was painted in his own black shadows.

“Do you know what tonight is?” Alina had asked him that early on.

It came to him then, though he should have known sooner.

It was the longest night, the darkest night of entire year. The winter solstice.

#darklina #aleksander morozova #alina starkov #alina x aleksander #smut #politics #power dynamics #mutual pining #angst #darklina fanfic #darklina fic #shadow and bone

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mockinggold · 3 years ago

Text

Excerpt from everyone changes (and my darling we are no exception)

“It was no secret that Shouto's family was extremely well off. Both of his parents were successful in the medical field, but Shouto considered them humble. They didn't have one of those gargantuan houses or unnecessarily expensive clothing. They got what they needed, some of what they wanted, and didn't flaunt their wealth. His mother was usually quite generous. She knew that their family had more money than they needed, so she donated to charities, tipped minimum wage workers well, was overall generous.

Even when Shouto told her that his ex-boyfriend's house burned down, she decided to help out. Shouto was friends with all of his exes except one (who can get second degree burns in hell. Not third, Shouto wanted that bitch to feel every ounce of pain, that scum doesn't deserve any scorched nerves), and even though they had been broken up, Shouto and his mother were happy to help because he was a good person and they talked and caught up with each other from time to time. Rei grew up in a third-world country, immigrating to Shouto's home country to become a doctor. Shouto doesn't remember, but his mother loved to tell Shouto about how when he was two, he walked around the courtroom with a purpose as Rei was getting her citizenship.

Shouto's father wasn't as generous as his mother was. Enji wasn't too fond of the idea of helping Shouto's ex for some weird reason that Shouto is too embarrassed to admit. His parents got into a mild argument about it and Shouto felt awkward watching it happen. They worked it out, they always did.

One day, Shouto asked his mother a question about it. "Mom," he started. "You're extremely generous with money. I understand why; we have the means to do so. Why is dad so much more conservative with money?"

"Well, it's rooted in our upbringings," she said. "When I was in Peru, my family was dirt poor. We didn't have the best furniture, the best home, but we still invited people over, because we had a lot of love to give. I wanted to have a better life for my family. A house that could meet its needs and still be filled with love.

Rei looked up at the sky as the two of them sat on the porch. The sun beginning to disappear as it painted the houses golden also caused the weather to cool down, the cooling concrete taking away heat ever so slightly from the underside of his legs. A couple of cars were parked on the side of the road. People that didn't live in the neighborhood didn't come by very often. Seeing as Shouto's neighborhood was a no outlet neighborhood, it was useless for them to do so.

Rei pointed at the cars lined up on the curb. "Back in Peru, we didn't go near parked cars," she said softly. Shouto tilted his head, waiting for her to explain. "It wasn't uncommon for cars to explode. Terrorists would rig cars and they would explode. Sometimes I would be walking with my friends and we heard a faint explosion and smoke rise. We would keep going because it was relatively common. It was a little scary, but at that point, we were used to it, we became numb to the fear."

Shouto imagined a scenario where he would be walking down the street and a car exploded because of terrorists. It would definitely make headlines all around, maybe national news depending on how many people got hurt. The thought irked him, yet his mother spoke about it so casually.

She waved her hand dismissively. "But I'm getting off-topic," she said. "Do you know how I was able to afford this home, this lifestyle?"

Shouto was pretty sure he wasn't supposed to answer, so he leaned in, waiting for an answer.

"I got lucky."

Shouto scrunched his nose, not sure if he fully agreed with his mother. "But... you worked extremely hard to get where you are."

"Yes, I worked hard, but there's so much more to it. Tell me, do you know how many people immigrate to this country a year in hopes of a better life?"

Shouto thought long and hard, not a hundred percent sure on what the correct answer was. "I don't know," he admitted.

"Millions," his mother stressed. "Millions of people come into this country, legally and illegally, in order to make a better life for themselves. They work hard, do everything they can, work for ten, twelve hours a day to make a living, get an education, work just as hard as I did. Do you know how many of those millions get in a similar position to us?"

Shouto shook his head. Rei had a weak smile on her face. "Not many," she said. "Have I ever told you the story of how I got a visa?"

Shouto shook his head, now extremely intrigued. With a soft smile, she looked to the other houses that lined the streets. "Back when I was married to my first husband, with your two half-siblings, I went to get a visa for three months here. I was going to travel across the country for different job interviews. I gave the woman the papers, she read them over, and she shook her head."

Shouto's eyes slightly widened, confused as to why they would deny him a visa. "She told me, 'No. I cannot give you a visa. You stated that your mother and sister live here. You will just stay with them after your visa expires.' And I was shocked, heartbroken, scared. I needed that visa."

Shouto leaned in even more, wanting to hear more and more of what his mother had to say. "And I looked at her, and I said, 'No, you're wrong.' I'll never forget the look of shock she had when I told her that. I said, 'I didn't have to tell you about my mother and sister. I could have lied and said I had no family here and you would have never known. I came to you an honest woman because I need these job interviews. I will not stay with my mother and sister. I have three reasons that I can't, and they are sitting in the waiting room right now. So please, may I have this visa?'"

Shouto was speechless, he wasn't sure what to say to that, knowing his mother argued her way into the country. He always knew that his mother had that type of drive, but he had no idea that something like that ever happened. "She looked at me with a confused and shocked face. She told me, 'This is highly irregular, I need to go speak to my manager'. She must have only been gone for five minutes, but those were some of the longest five minutes of my life. Finally, she came back. And she looked at me and said, 'Seventeen days. Your job interviews will span about seventeen days, that's all I'm giving you.' And she stamped my visa and handed it to me. I almost collapsed at that moment, but I got my visa. That was January 15th, 1991. Do you know what happened the next day?"

Shouto once again shook his head. "January 16th, 1991. The United States invaded Kuwait. Desert Storm. That day, all the embassies closed down for months, nobody could get visas," she said.

It made him extremely uneasy to hear about how his mother almost wasn't allowed in the country. He already knew that she was there illegally for a short amount of time. He knew that two of his sisters and his brother came to the country illegally. Because according to them, it was hard as hell to get into the country legally, it was their only option.

"So to go back to your original question," Rei said. "Our mindsets and upbringings are what makes your father and I think so much different about money. I feel like I got a lot of the money I have now by luck, making me feel like I can be generous because I was close to not having it, I know what it's like to not have it. Your father, on the other hand, grew up in a middle-class home and is now in the upper-middle class. He feels that he earned every cent of his, which makes him more hesitant to give it away. And there's nothing wrong with that. Just like political ideologies, there's nothing wrong with wanting to hold onto your finances as long as nobody is getting harmed in the process. Hard work, getting lucky, the two are polar opposites, but you'll see that in those less fortunate. They are willing to give away things to others in need because they know what it's like.

Shouto was not a huge fan of being touched, it was no secret after he had to spill a couple at the mental hospital, but one thing he loved was when his mother would ruffle his hair gently like she did when he was small. She raised her hand and hovered it towards Shouto, knowing now that he liked warning when someone was going to touch him. He scooted closer to his mother, leaning forward. With a smile, she ruffled his hair, making him feel safe.”

—————————

Anyway I just think my dad has the most swag in the world

#ao3 #writing #writer #fanfiction #fanfic #bnha

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cosleia · 4 years ago

Note

What if Millicent wasn't a small cat but something tiger-sized and Pryde poked her with his stick one time too many?

The Deaths of Allegiant General Pryde, Part 6: Dinner

(kylux, preslash. content note: graphic descriptions of an animal mauling and eating a person)

“I understand you have a...pet,” said Allegiant General Enric Pryde, slapping his swagger stick into his palm.

General Armitage Hux’s office on the Steadfast was not large—nothing like his war room and engineering facilities on the Finalizer had been—but it had a desk and a chair and a door, and at this point that was all he could hope for. It did have its merits: Pryde had had to use the call box before entering, and he also had to stand while Armitage remained comfortable in his seat.

Armitage managed not to twitch at the sound of Pryde’s crop striking the leather of his glove. It was an obvious intimidation tactic, and Armitage was not intimidated by sanctimonious peons like Pryde. “Yes,” he said. “It’s my prerogative as ranking general.” He watched Pryde’s face, daring him to claim that his rank was higher. This issue had not yet come to a head, and Armitage was, quite frankly, tired of the chain of command being unclear.

But Pryde ignored the comment, likely because he didn’t want to risk losing the authority he’d so recently gained when Supreme Leader Kylo Ren chose to make Pryde’s flagship his own. What he did say was, “It’s highly irregular. And as this is my ship, I have the right to assess the way this creature is being housed. Every centimetre counts on a starship, General—”

“Millicent lives in my chambers, General,” Armitage put in, a bit crossly. “And I pay for her food out of my own stipend. She will have no impact on the operation of the Steadfast, just as she never interfered with the operation of the Finalizer.”

Pryde raised an eyebrow. “If that’s true, then you shouldn’t mind a brief inspection of your quarters? To validate what you’ve said.”

Armitage had a feeling he’d been outmaneuvered, but he wasn’t sure how. Pryde had the right to enter any area on the Steadfast, including all officers’ chambers. Well, excepting Ren’s, of course, and the rooms Ren kept for his Knights.

Wait. Had Ren also made Armitage’s chambers off limits to Pryde?

A smile twitched its way across Armitage’s face. “You’re more than welcome to come meet Millicent, General,” he said graciously. “I’m sure she’d enjoy the company.”

“I’ll send an audit team,” Pryde sniffed. He tucked his swagger stick beneath his left arm the way he did when he was about to walk away dismissively, and oh, so that’s what he was after. Pryde wanted to spy on Armitage. His ‘audit team’ would almost certainly consist of intelligence officers who would bring with them any number of tiny, easily hidden surveillance devices.

“I’m sorry, General,” Armitage said, “but I can’t allow that. Millicent loves people, but she can be distressed by groups. One person is all I’m willing to subject her to.”

“Yet you claim the creature won’t interfere with the operation of this ship.”

Armitage smiled again. “One person is sufficient to perform an audit. As I said, you are more than welcome to come yourself.”

Pryde always looked like he was glowering, but his face looked especially severe now. “Fine,” he said.

“Of course, I must also be present,” Armitage added. “She won’t take kindly to a stranger I haven’t introduced her to.”

“Fine,” Pryde said again. If he was feeling anything beyond slightly inconvenienced, he was hiding it exceptionally well. “We’ll go now.”

Armitage heard a muffled thump and the clack of Millie’s claws on the durasteel floor as soon as the hatch cycled open. “Come, darling!” he called, though she was almost certainly already on her way. “We have a visitor!”

Millicent emerged from the bedroom at a gallop, a giant blur of orange and black and white, barreling up to Armitage and bounding up on her hind legs to throw her front paws onto his shoulders. He staggered a bit under her weight and laughed as her enormous tongue lapped over his neck and face. “There’s a good girl,” he praised her, putting his arms as far around her as he could get them, stroking down her back, and burying his face in the wonderfully soft fur behind her ear. “Hello. Hello. Did you miss me?”

As usual, the greeting was over in a matter of seconds; Millie pushed off him and dropped back to the floor and circled toward where Pryde was standing. Her hackles weren’t raised, not really, but she was curious, cautious. The muscles in her legs and back were visibly tensed for a pounce, and her tail was flicking slowly back and forth behind her in preparation to counterbalance. She was absolutely magnificent, the perfect hunter, and Armitage indulged in watching her for a moment before turning his attention to Pryde.

The allegiant general stood stock-still by the door, arms straight at his sides. The only parts of him that moved were his eyes as they followed Millie’s prowl back and forth between him and the main living space. “General?” Armitage prompted.

“It’s rather...large,” Pryde said. For once, his voice wasn’t strong and certain. He seemed to remember how to move, pulling his swagger stick out from under his arm and brandishing it in front of him like a knife.

“Yes, she is,” Armitage agreed.

“I expected something...smaller. Where is its cage?”

Armitage blinked, affronted. “I would never put my Millie in a cage. She needs room to move about. It’s in her blood.”

“It’s tame, though?”

“Of course. I trained her myself. It can be difficult with this species, but only if one is not fully committed to the task.”

“Ah,” Pryde said, shifting back a half step as Millie twitched her whiskers at him. “I suppose you are the son of a nerf-herder.”

“Nerfs are docile plant-eaters!” Even someone as witless as Pryde should be able to appreciate how special Millie was, how unique. “Millie is a carnivore. A predator. It’s completely different.” Armitage wrinkled his nose and added, “Also, Millie doesn’t stink.”

Millie, sensing Armitage’s distress, began to growl low in the back of her throat. Pryde took a full step back.

“No, no, it’s all right, Millie,” Armitage told her. “To me.” Millicent loped to Armitage’s side. “Sit,” Armitage said, and Millie lowered her haunches to the floor in her elegant, feline version of parade rest. “Good girl.”

“She does seem to be well trained,” Pryde said, sounding half relieved and half disappointed. “And her presence in your quarters does not affect the operation of the ship. I shall not press the matter.”

“I appreciate your understanding, General,” Armitage said. At this point, Pryde just seemed eager to leave. He’d had no opportunity to plant any bugs; he hadn’t even moved from the doorway. Armitage, with Millicent’s help, had successfully foiled his plot. “Shall we return to the bridge?”

Life-partner did not like the grouchy man he brought home today. Millicent knew that for certain. And Grouchy didn’t seem to like life-partner, either, which meant Grouchy was a threat. They were tolerating each other, though, and that meant Millicent would tolerate Grouchy too...so long as Grouchy didn’t cause any problems.

Some time had passed since then. She had batted her toys around for a while and now she was lying at the foot of their bed. She had just started meticulously grooming herself when she heard the front door cycle open again. It was early for life-partner to return, but he had returned at a strange time already today, so Millie did not worry right away. However, the heavy footfalls she heard next did not belong to life-partner, nor did the scent that shortly came wafting in. Millie leapt off the bed and trotted out to the playroom, lips already curling back in warning.

It was Grouchy. Life-partner was not with him.

Millie bared all her teeth and told Grouchy unequivocally to get out of their home. Her loud, rumbling growl seemed to terrify Grouchy; he froze in place like an ash-rabbit instead of doing what she’d told him. Something he was holding in his left hand fell to the floor with a small clatter.

Millie stepped forward, attempting to startle him, to herd him to the door. Grouchy waved the stick he was carrying in his right hand at her. She paused, cocking her head to the side as she evaluated the weapon. It did not seem to pose any significant threat. “Back,” Grouchy said. “Back, you ugly beast.”

Millie recognized the words. ‘Back,’ of course, was a command. Life-partner used ‘ugly’ whenever he was talking about Dark One, and he loved Dark One almost as much as he loved Millicent, so it must be a compliment. ‘Beast,’ however, was an unpleasant word she had heard as a cub, back before life-partner had chosen her. It meant disrespect.

Millie did not obey the commands of those who did not respect her.

She continued her slow, steady advance. Grouchy let out a high-pitched sound and waved his stick right in her face. This time it actually brushed her whiskers. Millie snapped at it in warning, letting her sharp teeth clack together noisily. “Sit!” Grouchy yelled. “Lie down! Get back! Get away!”

She let out her own yell, again commanding him to leave her home. The roar was so load it rattled the drinking glass life-partner had left on the caf table. Surely that would be enough to get Grouchy to go.

But it wasn’t. Grouchy crouched down, reaching with his free hand for the small item he’d dropped. At the same time, he stopped waving the stick and started thrusting it toward her. This form of attack seemed more dangerous; he might strike her in the eye. One thrust poked her hard in the cheek; she howled, more from surprise than pain, and then she snapped her jaws closed around Grouchy’s wrist to keep him from poking her again.

She’d been polite long enough.

Grouchy screeched and jerked backward, trying and failing to free himself from Millie’s powerful hold, and dropped both the stick and the other thing. Millicent sank her teeth deep into his flesh to secure her grip.

Then she tasted blood.

Life-partner took good care of Millie, providing food and water and a bed and toys and a place to play. But it had been a long time since Millie had hunted prey. A long time since she’d enjoyed the meat of a fresh kill.

She considered. Would life-partner be troubled if she had Grouchy for dinner? Surely his unwelcome intrusion into their home and his refusal to leave broke any sort of truce the two of them had. There might be some other reason life-partner wouldn’t want Millie to eat Grouchy, but now his blood was trickling tantalizingly down her throat and she wanted more.

She deserved this, Millie decided. She had been very good for life-partner, and life-partner loved her. This was her treat.

That settled, she bit Grouchy’s hand off.

Her teeth crunched delightfully straight through the bones and tendons of Grouchy’s arm, and she chomped and smacked her lips and tossed her head until she got the whole hand into her mouth. Millie ground the meat and bones down to delicious pieces between her teeth and swallowed it all triumphantly.

Grouchy was screaming, clutching at his bloody arm, and that only made Millicent want more. She stalked toward him, licking her chops. Should she eat him piece by piece, saving the most savory bits for last? Should she go straight for the delectable organs she knew she’d find within his torso? She could crack him open easily just by leaping on top of him to break his sternum, tearing into his flesh with her claws, ripping out his ribs with her teeth—

He staggered backward until he hit the wall, and then he was scrabbling against it desperately, still screaming. His wounded cries were so sweet and enticing; how could she resist? Millicent lunged and struck him heavily with one paw, sending him flying to the floor faster than he could fall. One of his legs was left sticking out at an odd angle; she stepped on it and felt it break in two beneath her paw.

Now he was sobbing, trying and failing to crawl away. She almost wished they were in an open plain where she could really chase him, follow his wails and hunt him properly, but she had a feeling he wouldn’t have put up much of a fight no matter where he was.

Anyway, in an open plain she might have had to share. Here, this meal was all hers.

He kicked his good leg at her, so Millicent got her mouth around his ankle and gave it a good chomp. It was slightly harder to separate his foot from his body because of the covering over it, but after a few moments of worrying at it, she finally ripped it free. Millicent kept an eye on her prey as she set about tearing open the foot covering to get at the meat. Human feet weren’t especially delicious, but the bones provided a satisfying crunch, and she wanted to enjoy that before moving on to something meatier like the leg.

All Grouchy was doing was whimpering and crying and dragging himself along the ground as best he could without the full use of three limbs. It was slow going. He seemed to be trying to get to the door, but there was no way he’d be able to open it without standing on his hind legs, and Millicent didn’t think he would be able to do that. She took her time, gnawing and slurping at the foot until finally she finished it with a single definitive crunch.

Grouchy had almost made it to the door by the time she was done. It wouldn’t do for life-partner to stumble over him when he got home. Millicent trotted over and grabbed the back of Grouchy’s neck in her jaws and flung him bodily back toward the center of the room. Necks were vulnerable, especially human necks, and Millicent thought she might have broken Grouchy’s; at least that meant he’d hold still while she finished her feast.

It was time to eat his heart, Millicent decided. She’d denied herself long enough. Eagerly, Millie bounded over to Grouchy’s collapsed form, batted him over onto his back with her paw, and cracked open his chest just like she’d planned.

“Where is Allegiant General Pryde?”

Usually Pryde was at Kylo’s side whenever Kylo was outside his chambers. Kylo vacillated between finding it convenient and irritating; having an old Imperial constantly hanging around wasn’t really the same as keeping Hux close. Right now, though, the allegiant general was nowhere to be found, and Kylo had some orders to give him.

“General Hux?” Kylo asked, because Hux was the type to know where everyone was at all times.

“I’m afraid I don’t know, sir,” Hux said. A cursory scan of his mind showed he was telling the truth. Surprising. “I haven’t seen him since the middle of cresh shift. He said he had business and left the bridge.”

Kylo felt himself scowling and wished he hadn’t destroyed his mask.

“Can...I help with something, sir?” Hux added.

“Yes,” Kylo said, because he could give orders through Hux just as well as through Pryde. Actually, the allegiant general being absent was a good opportunity. Kylo didn’t feel like he could talk to Hux when Pryde was around. This was ridiculous, of course; he was Supreme Leader and could talk to anybody whenever he wanted. But still, it always felt...awkward. “Your chambers,” Kylo decided, in case Pryde suddenly decided to appear. “Now.”

As they set off together, Hux actually walked abreast of Kylo instead of trailing behind him. It was, Kylo thought, the first time he’d done that in a year. It reminded Kylo of how things had been on the Finalizer, before.

“How is Millicent?” Kylo asked, realizing he hadn’t thought about Hux’s pet in months. He wasn’t even sure she had survived Batuu.

“She’s fine, Supreme Leader,” Hux said. “Healthy and happy.”

It would be nice to see her again. She had always been friendly with Kylo, letting him pet her and scratch below her jowls. She had a deep, throaty purr that was strangely soothing.

He felt a sudden spike of anxiety that things might be different now, that Millicent might not like Kylo anymore. The thought of her rebuffing him was unpleasant. But there was no reason for Millicent to dislike him, was there? Things had—changed, shifted, with Hux, but surely that wouldn’t affect—

Kylo swallowed and pushed those worries down. It didn’t matter if an animal didn’t like him, did it? He was the Supreme Leader. He didn’t need anyone to like him. Not Millicent, not Hux, not anyone.

“Here we are,” Hux said, breaking into Kylo’s maudlin thoughts. Hux activated the airlock hatch to his chambers and started to enter. “Can I offer you a—” Then he broke off, stopping in the doorway, his mouth hanging open for a beat. “Ah. Supreme Leader. Perhaps a different venue—?”

“No,” Kylo said. “We’re already here. I don’t care if you haven’t dusted, or whatever.” He shouldered past Hux.

Then he stopped too. The floor was covered in dried blood, tattered pieces of fabric and leather, and bits of what looked like bone. Millicent lay curled up by the sofa. She looked very pleased with herself; her long tail curled slowly back and forth as she raised her head to look at Kylo. There was blood all around her mouth and all over her paws.

Her stomach was distended.

The smell of blood always gave Kylo something of a rush. It excited him. It was a scent of battle. He licked his lips as he stepped further into Hux’s chambers, scanning the room for evidence of what exactly had happened. It seemed clear enough, though. “Millie,” he said, “did you eat someone?”

Millie licked her own chops in response, as if to say yes.

Hux spoke up then, a nervous thread in his voice. “Supreme Leader, I’m utterly horrified. I’ve no idea how this happened. No one should have been in my chambers. I’m sure she was simply defending herself—”

Kylo raised a hand to shut him up. “It’s fine,” he said. “If Millie did eat someone, they probably deserved it.” He crossed the room to Millicent and buried his hands in her fur. “I missed you,” he crooned to her. To his delight, she rolled onto her back, inviting him to rub her tummy.

“You won’t...punish her?” Hux asked. “No matter who it was?”

“No,” Kylo said shrugging. “Why would I do that? I won’t punish you, either.”

“In that case...” Hux stepped further into the room, stooped over, picked something up, and brought it to Kylo. Kylo glanced up, then did a double take. It was that stick Pryde was always carrying around.

“Oh,” Kylo said with a laugh of realization. “So that’s where he was.”

Hux’s face took on a look of triumph. It was subtle enough that most people probably wouldn’t notice it, but Kylo did. It helped that he could also feel the man’s satisfaction rolling out from him like waves in the Force.

“You didn’t like him,” Kylo said. When Hux didn’t answer right away, Kylo added, “I know you didn’t plan this.”

At that, Hux let out a small laugh of surprise. "No, Supreme Leader. I didn’t like him.”

“I didn’t really like him either,” Kylo said. “But he always did what I ordered, so there wasn’t a good reason to kill him.” Kylo shrugged.

“It seems he intended to spy on me,” Hux added, holding up another item that appeared to be a small transmitter.

Kylo scoffed. “Was he so inept that he didn’t think he could serve me without trying to copy my most brilliant general? Fool.” Kylo turned back to Millicent and resumed stroking her fat belly. “You ate well, didn’t you? Guess you don’t need your regular dinner, do you?” Millicent nudged her face against Kylo’s ankle and started purring, and Kylo felt both gratified and content, like everything was the way it was supposed to be.

After a moment, Hux moved around the caf table and sat down on the couch, leaning over to join Kylo in petting Millicent. “Good girl,” Kylo heard him say softly.

Millie didn’t know why life-partner hadn’t taken Dark One as his mate yet. Humans had many strange and inconvenient customs; perhaps a long courtship was one of them. But it was nice to see Dark One again. There was something different about him, something different about the way he and life-partner were behaving around each other...but life-partner still smiled when he thought Dark One wasn’t looking, and Dark One still stared at life-partner like he wanted to mate immediately. It was only a matter of time.

Maybe, Millicent thought as Dark One settled onto the sofa next to life-partner and she climbed up to sprawl across both their laps, it would happen tonight.

The Deaths of Allegiant General Pryde series on AO3

#star wars #kylux #fanfic #my writing #the deaths of allegiant general pryde #gore #fruhallbera #long post

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steamy-linguine · 5 years ago

Text

The Concert (Connor rk800 x reader)

A/N: Oh my god seriously y’all it has been a fucking crazy past few weeks I can’t even begin to tell you guys everything that has been going on but anyway since Happy Birthday with Connor got so many notes I decided to write a second part. I really do hope you guys enjoy it please let me know what you think (:

If you haven’t read happy birthday then click here

Warnings: None just fluff

“Maybe this?” You told yourself as you ran in front of the mirror to look.

You shook your head rapidly too displeased with your outfit. “No no no he’ll hate it...”

***

“They’ll hate it Hank.” Connor said to him as he looked at himself in the mirror. His usual suit and android jacket gone and now he was wearing a black button up shirt, dark blue jeans and nice new black shoes to match.

Hank told Connor since it was a date he needed to get some new clothes and he joined him at the mall to help the android.

Connor at first thought the outfit would be perfect for the date. It wasn’t too flashy for his liking and all the colors seemed to go together accordingly but now...

Looking in the mirror he wasn’t so sure.

Were his predictions wrong?

“No they won’t.”

“They will.” Connor argued back the nerves clear in his voice as his LED spun yellow.

Hank stared at Connor’s reflection in the mirror from seat at the edge of his bed. The memory of his first date coming to his mind as Connor continued to ramble on about tonight clearly not used to these new emotions.

Ah, Déjà vu.

Hank stood up walking behind Connor to lay a hand on his shoulder and give a reassuring squeeze to the android but also to shut him up.

“Connor listen, uh you look fine. I’m sure they’ll think so too.” Hank said a bit more awkward than expected.

Hank hadn’t dealt with this since he was younger and didn’t have anymore kids since Cole, but taking in Connor was like parenting all over again.

“Hank I just..I’ve never really felt like this before.”

“You’re nervous Connor it happens.”

Connor let out a breathy chuckle, “It’s all so new to me...”

Hank nodded, “I know..Just make sure you be yourself...Don’t go licking shit though.” Hank ended his sentence by pointing a finger at him.

Connor’s eyebrows furrowed before the realization hit him, “Oh!”

***

You stared at yourself in the mirror admiring your outfit. You did a twirl and moved closer to fix any fly away strands of hair and a teeth check.

You nodded at yourself in the mirror.

“You’re good..It’s all cool...” You gave yourself a small pep talk your eyes wandering over your outfit.

Maybe I should just change...You thought.

Before you could make any more changes to yourself for the umpteenth time there was a knocking at your front door snapping you out of your thoughts.

“He’s here fuck!” You silently shrieked, the nerves beginning to build within you as you took a deep breath to calm yourself.

You walked out of your bedroom and hurried to your front door taking a moment to breathe in once more before pulling the door open.

Connor stood at the entrance his smile big on his face as you took a second to admire his new look.

He began to do the same, his eyes wandering over you taking in the sight of not seeing you in regular work clothes.

// SOFTWARE INSTABILITY ^^^ //

That familiar irregular beating beginning in his chest as the warnings popped up into his line of sight.

He quickly dismissed them and turned his attention back on you.

“You look amazing.” He said as his eyes met yours.

You smiled, “Thank you! You look great also!”

“Are you ready for the concert?”

“Yes!”

***

You both arrived at the large outdoor venue. The two of you had a hard time squeezing pass some of the people but eventually found your way to your spots right in the front, the stage lit up with neon colors and the instruments already set out for the artists.

“Have you ever listened to them?” You asked him.

You knew he tried to get into music over the past few months and remembered the time you sent your playlist to him.

“I did listen to all of their forty songs. The first two albums were more of a indie rock and the last two more alternative pop. A bit different from the heavy metal I’ve listened to with Hank but I actually quite liked them.” He smiled.

You giggled at his answer, “Yeah they’re great I love them.”

Connor smiled back at you. You continued to look around unaware of his lingering gaze as your head fell back to admire the stars above.

“The stars are beautiful tonight don’t you think?” You looked over to him already catching his unbroken gaze.

He nodded looking up to the stars with you.

“They are. Balls of extremely hot gas consisting of helium and hydrogen...but very beautiful.” He said.

You again laughed at his words.

He was always so descriptive.

“I’d say they are the second most beautiful thing tonight though.” He added.

His comment caught you off guard and you turned to look at him, the red already building onto your cheeks.

“Connor-“

The sound of loud music interrupted you and both of your heads snapped in the direction toward the stage.

The lights on stage began to dim and the white screen hanging up lit up with the bands logo, the music already beginning to get louder and the crowd cheering and women hollering their name.

Suddenly the lights on the stage cut off and you could hardly see anything and it seemed as if the crowds cheers just grew even louder.

You felt fingers intertwine with yours making your insides flutter.

Suddenly the lights turned back on and all the artists were in their spots, waving and greeting the crowd.

You looked down at Connor’s hand entangled with yours and couldn’t stop the large smile spreading onto your face.

// SOFTWARE INSTABILITY ^^^ //

The start of the song booming over the speakers catching your attention as the singer began the first song on the album.

Connor could see how the crowd was closing in, all too excited and unaware how rowdy they were and it made his LED spin from blue to yellow to red back to yellow.

There were no seats after all, so they moved in closer around the two of you, bumping into you guys and one another.

He could see your eyes moving from your favorite band to the people, unaware of who to pay attention to.

On instinct, he pulled his hand from yours and you gave a confused look at him until he wrapped his arm around your waist to pull you closer into him.

You were surprised at first but immediately relaxed after being so close to him. You rested your head against his chest and wrapped your arms around him and began to sway to the music.

Connor looked down at you, a small smile on his face as he would remember this moment of having you so close to him for the first time ever in his mind.

He’d have to upload this.

He began swaying with you, enjoying the moment.

***

After the concert the two of you caught a taxi back to your place. The ride back wasn’t a long one and conversation with him made it better.

“God it was so...amazing! I never thought I’d ever see them!” You gushed to him.

He only smiled at you and nodded. For the first time he was unaware of what to say to you as you rambled on about seeing your favorite band but he enjoyed hearing your voice and how happy you were.

It made him feel happy seeing you like this.

Soon the self driving taxi pulled over, the monotone voice thanking the both of you for using Detroit taxi services.

He shoved his hands in his pockets as he walked you back up to your porch.

“Connor, seriously this was amazing. Nobody’s ever done anything like this for me.” You smiled.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it (Y/N). I had a good time myself.”

Your smile grew as you heard him say those words.

“Well...”

“Well?” You questioned.

He stared at you trying to decide what to do.

SAY GOODNIGHT AND LEAVE?

KISS (Y/N)?

The suggestions came up and he dismissed them.

He wanted so badly to kiss you. He had seen enough romance movies and searched all the different ways to perform a perfect kiss but something stopped him.

His thirium pump beginning to pump faster as he weighed his options. The thought of kissing you was already making him overheat and he didn’t want to move too fast.

“Connor?” You asked him.

“IbettergobackandcheckonHank. I’llsee youatworkonmonday.” The words left his mouth too quickly as he got system warnings.

He quickly turned away from you to walk off the steps and head back toward the taxi. He could feel himself begin to cool down as he left you, your last expression stuck in his artificial mind.

Was it disappointment on your face? But why? Why would you-

“Connor!” Your voice broke his thoughts.

He turned around, “Yes-“

Your lips crashed onto his.

At first he didn’t know what to do, too scared to move but he began to relax as his eyes closed enjoying the kiss.

You pulled away from him, “You should’ve just kissed me.”

// SOFTWARE INSTABILITY ^^^ //

He was still in shock from it all. He raised his hands to tilt your chin up to him and he pressed lips onto yours.

You wrapped your arms around his neck as his hands found your waist to pull you closer to him for the second time tonight.

He could feel the heat building within him yet again and the beating inside his chest picking up again but he ignored it, to enveloped in your love exchange.

You pulled away trying to catch your breath.

“Goodnight Detective.” He said as he got back into the taxi.

“N-Night Connor.” You replied as you walked onto the steps.

Connor took a deep breathe still in shock from the night.

He couldn’t wait to tell Hank.

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complicatedandstained · 5 years ago

Text

358 Nights: Stasis

It occurs to more than one of them that this is the most people that have ever sat around the Organization’s kitchen table at one time since the day the Dusks dragged it in from wherever it is the Dusks get anything.

Only four of them at a table meant to seat six, but the Organization members tend to give each other a wide berth—at least three yards of personal space a piece. This in order to avoid petty arguments, any one of which could spiral into maiming and dismemberment as easily as it could deescalate into a fit of giggles or a quick shag.

No emotions meant anything could happen at any given time.

So: three yards minimum. Unless you were fuck buddies. And sometimes even then.

Everyone’s waiting for Xigbar to break the silence and he doesn’t disappoint. Setting his palms on the table, he leans across it toward Saïx with singular, menacing intent. “It’s quarter to three. This had better be really fucking interesting. I, for one, had other plans.”

Saïx nods, unperturbed, like getting the objections over with is one of the bullet points in his meeting agenda.

“Yes, why are we meeting in the middle of the fucking night, in the middle of the fucking kitchen, Saïx?” Axel’s light, mocking tone eases some of the tension in the air as Xigbar chuckles. “Was the Round Room on reserve? You just have a craving for good food and good company?”

“He’s not likely to find either here,” Vexen quips, smirking, though, as usual, there’s no one around to laugh with him.

“Good company, eh?” Xigbar raises his brows, then elbows and grins at Axel. “This is getting kinkier than expected.”

Axel’s face remains impassive, but Vexen chokes.

Saïx stands up, thumbs pressing into the table, “Enough. We are here to discuss number XIII. Once we have done so, you may return to your precious regularly scheduled nocturnal activities, whatever, or whoever, they may be.”

“We couldn’t discuss number XIII, oh, say, in the daytime?�� Axel continues blearily, rubbing the back of his hand across his eyes. “With number XIII?”

Saïx does not deem this worthy of a response. “You three are the only ones aware of number XIII’s entire, unique history.”

“Cute little Ventus and his cute little murder weapon,” Xigbar offers, watching his companions for any signs of surprise and almost disappointed to find none. “Well, what of it? He back in a coma or some shit?”

Saïx and Vexen nod.

Xigbar smiles. “No shit. Again?”

“Fuck,” Axel blurts, and at the raised brows Saïx directs at him, amends, more neutrally. “Doubles our work load, doesn’t it?” He crosses his ankles and leans back in his chair, arms folding behind his head. “The slacker.”

“Double workload.” Xigbar rolls his eyes. “Must be Tuesday. So, I repeat, what of it?”

“What of it?” Vexen scoffs in exasperation. “Haven’t you fools noticed?”

Xigbar and Axel blink back at him with blank expressions.

Vexen sighs, tapping the pen in his hand against the clipboard he’s set on the table. He circles a bar graph and the pair lean in to get a better look at the finely printed labels.

“As you know, Ventus was presumed dead for approximately ten years. Since Roxas’ appearance, we have theorized that Ventus’ body entered into a kind of stasis, hidden somewhere in Castle Oblivion, while his mind—heart—what have you—found refuge in Sora’s. Thus, in Sora’s death, Ventus, managed to manifest again in the Nobody, Roxas.”

They have discussed as much before in more private meetings between pairs of them. So now they nod as though they get it, though even Vexen doesn’t fully comprehend the logistics of it all.

Magic, they figure, the easiest, if not the only, explanation.

“Roxas’ recent lab results show highly irregular activity,” Vexen continues, “which we hypothesize is the result of this stasis.

“Unlike other Nobodies, Roxas’ body is growing and changing. We are seeing seemingly impossible, dramatic spikes in hormonal activity as his body attempts to fast-forward through the growth he should have experienced, making up for lost time, as it were. As his body struggles to adapt he goes into long periods of hibernation, which thus far, seem relatively harmless, perhaps even beneficial.”

Vexen pauses here, though his fellow Nobodies keep their poker faces intact with a skill that would make Luxord tear up a little.

The silence carries on for a little too long. Axel coughs.

“So… what?” Xigbar tugs at the strap of his eye patch and leans to level his glare toward Vexen, voice dropping into a disgruntled growl, “We’re having a meeting so you can tell us Roxas is about to get really tall and really horny?”

Vexen glares back, a colder, more calculated thing, and straightens the edges of his stack of papers.

“We can expect to see accelerated growth and physical maturation, yes, in addition to the rapid strides in intelligence and abstract reasoning we have already noted in mission reports. He should then reach the level of maturity of a typical twenty-year-old male within a matter of months. And, to answer Xigbar’s question, at the time of stasis, he had likely already passed through much of the growth process known as puberty, so, it is likely the height difference will be marginal at best.”

Axel offers an exaggerated stretch and yawn. “Well, thank the Lord we met to discuss this.”

“As if it weren’t keeping you up at night,” Xigbar snickers back. “I can’t tell, are you disappointed or relieved?”

Twists of flame rise up from Axel’s knuckles, and Xigbar’s grin widens.

Saïx rolls his eyes and grabs Axel’s wrist, the blaze dying out. “Gentlemen, please.”

Saïx nods to Vexen to continue and with a disapproving scowl, he does.

“Roxas may also exhibit traits often characteristic of the quote-unquote teenager or young adolescent. While he will be spared the typical crushing emotional turmoil, he could still exhibit impulsiveness, poor decision making, identity crises, questioning of authority, and perhaps outright rebellion.

“And, of course, as Xigbar so crudely put it, perhaps an increase in sexual impulses, to boot.”

Xigbar reaches out a glove to prod at his neighbor’s cheek. “Close your mouth, Axel.”

Axel’s jaw snaps shut and his eyes narrow at Xigbar in warning, hand lighting up again.

“Axel has taken it upon himself to supervise number XIII,” Saïx directs at Xigbar, “nothing more.”

“Supervise, huh?” Xigbar shrugs, withdrawing his hand, settling back in his seat. “My mistake. No one in their right mind would hook up with their supervisor.” This remark is blatantly directed at Saïx, who spends suspicious amounts of time with Xemnas, and who blatantly ignores it.

The flames fan up Axel’s wrist, but, at a disapproving glance from Saïx, die down.

“It’s… just a lot to take in,” Axel mumbles for Vexen’s benefit.

Now Xigbar’s eyes roll. “As if. We’ve been noticing these changes for months now. I don’t need a lab coat to tell you the kid’s getting taller, smarter, and mouthier. I been watching it happen. I know you like to have show-and-tell for all your little experiments, Vex, but next time, send us, like, a bullet pointed memo, and give us all some extra shut eye, would ya?”

Ice crystals spread across the table top where Vexen’s hand rests, though he looks otherwise disengaged. “As usual, you seem to be failing to grasp the gravity of the situation. Chances are, he’ll be near Axel and Saïx’s age when the process is complete and his body reaches equilibrium. Roxas’ behavior will be highly erratic and the changes will be rapid and painful. Regardless of his age, with the keyblade, he is a force to be reckoned with. This will affect us all.”

Xigbar groans. “As usual, you seem to be failing to grasp that I couldn’t give fewer fucks.”

“I agree.” Saïx nods, and three mouths dip open. “All the more reason Roxas should continue to carry his weight. This will in no way serve as a pathetic excuse to shirk his duties when he can be bothered to stay awake. Roxas has a job to do, as have we all. I expect the three of you to see to it that he keeps his toes in line—impulses or no.”

Xigbar sits back, wondering if all this talk is really necessary, wondering why Saïx feels the relentless need to be so harsh toward Roxas, of all people, his single model employee. Roxas who completes every mission and then some. Roxas who never says no. Sure, the kid has a curious streak. Yeah, he’s a little more kind-hearted than the rest. But questioning authority? Rebellion? As if.

But then, he knows why Saïx is really getting pissy with XIII, and it has more to do with Axel’s hormones than Roxas’.

“Have I made myself clear?” Saïx demands, arms crossing.

“Yes, sir,” Vexen and Xigbar chorus solemnly.

Axel salutes, two fingers to his temple, voice saucy, taunting, “Yes, sir.”

“It goes without saying that this conversation is to be kept between the four of us. You are dismissed.” Saïx waves them off with a flick of his hand.

“They grow up so fast,” Xigbar croons, head shaking, as he and the scientist rise to head out and leave the children to their scheming. “Seems like just yesterday Lea and Isa were tykes, eh, Vexen?”

Axel and Saïx freeze entirely, and Vexen’s laughter drags cold air down each of their backs like fingernail scratches.

“How quickly they forget. It’s harder for us, I think. Different playground: same boys—bossing around adults, fighting over their toys, knocking each other down into the dirt.”

A flaming chakram slams into the wall between the pair of them, and they both veer to the sides.

“One more word,” Axel growls when they turn his way, “and I’ll set you on fire.”

Saïx says nothing, of course, merely glares, but the lack of a reprimand to Axel is support in its own way.

“Apologies, Saïx, Axel.” Vexen nods at each but smirks as he walks out. “I meant no offense.”

Xigbar stays, attention fixed solely on the red-head. “Careful who you threaten, hot shot.” Xigbar pries the weapon out of the wall and tosses it carelessly back as if it doesn’t singe his fingertips. “I can take a little heat. And if you’re not careful, I might bust your favorite toy.”

It’s Saïx who stands and catches the chakram, sets it down on the table, with a loud clink, unscathed. “I think you’ll find that like all of Axel’s toys, Roxas is well-kept and not so easily shattered.”

Xigbar’s mouth opens for a second before settling into a challenging smirk.

Axel whirls on Saïx, hand resting lightly on his forearm, as the man pulls out his chair and steps away. “C’mon, Saïx… it’s not like that…”

Saïx yanks his sleeve through Axel’s fingers and steps away, glaring at him with those unfamiliar gold eyes. “Isn’t it?”

Saïx walks out, and Xigbar and Axel can only watch him go.

“Well, that coulda gone better,” Xigbar mutters, still bemused.

Axel takes a step forward, the way Saïx departed, but this time, gloved, callused hands clutch his shoulders.

Xigbar’s voice settles into something quieter, “C’mon, Ax, let it go.”

Axel nods and turns to the other kitchen exit. Xigbar’s arm sweeps around Axel’s back and leads him out into the hall in the direction of their rooms.

Xigbar gestures down the dark, yawning path before them. “You heading to Roxas, then?”

Axel sighs, shrugs. “Might as well.”

A flame flickers in Axel’s palm, illuminating their path where the silvery glow of Kingdom Hearts can’t quite stretch from the window panes.

“So,” Xigbar begins conversationally. “You gonna tell the kid when he wakes up?”

Axel’s laugh is short and empty. “They’d murder me.”

“Eh, yeah,” Xigbar nods thoughtfully, “probably so.”

“He’s smart.” Axel’s arms cross, he glances down the hall for prying eyes. “He’ll figure it out on his own.”

“You better hope not.” They swing around a bend, automatically weaving left and right, avoiding one of the large divots Larxene put in the ground in a spat with Demyx. “Then they’ll murder him.”

“I won’t let it come to that.” Axel’s words sound light enough, but the genuine intent behind them makes Xigbar pause in his steps. Thoughtlessly, Axel lights the candles in their sconces on the walls around them and they watch each other, warily, their skin ghostly white in the flickering.

“You won’t be able to stop it,” Xigbar challenges and then pauses to glance around. “Ah, here’s where I ran into our little miscreant the other night on his way to see you of all people.”

“Why haven’t you turned us in?” Axel challenges in a low voice. “What do you want?”

“I’ll think of something.” Xigbar’s smile, his mocking tone, are inscrutable as ever. He sets his glove over the light in Axel’s hand and smoke passes between the pieces of leather as it goes out. “A ‘thank you’ might be a nice start.” Xigbar flicks his wrist and the torches extinguish, plunging them into solid darkness.

“…Thank you,” Axel murmurs. He can feel leather against his cheek, heat as Xigbar’s hand draws his face down, level with his, moisture and the rough scrape of stubble as unfamiliar lips press his cheek.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

Axel feels a playful tug at the silver chain around his neck, and then nothing. Without another word, the pair of them split off.

Axel finds Roxas snoring in his bed. No sheets cover him; Roxas hates to be confined. He’s still wearing his coat and boots, but somebody would notice any efforts to make him more comfortable, and people are talking enough as it is.

Axel musses Roxas’ hair, and watches him breathe. He waits for his own breaths to slow to the same pace as Roxas’, and then, giving his hand a final squeeze, Axel slinks back out into the night, leaving no trace that he’s been around in the first place.

#kingdom hearts #axel #xigbar #saix #roxas #vexen #organization xiii #akuroku #akusai #xemsai #xigbar x axel #358 nights #my writing

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mollypatrison-blog · 4 years ago

Text

FRVelion’s Bike Maintenance Tips: To Keep Your Two-Wheeler In Top Shape

As we all know that how the personal hygiene is important for us, likely regular bike maintenance is very important or we can say a basic step towards guarantees your two-wheeler will remain in the pink of its health. Much the same as a human body, dismissing the prosperity of your bike will just prompt dull execution, visit breakdowns, and adverse effect your bike's roadworthiness and your security.

Keeping a bike in good condition isn’t all that difficult. If you follow the basic maintenance schedule, the bike will perform well and it depends on us that how many years we wanted to keep it new. There is no need to mention that if your bike well then it will attract the handsome resale value when you sell it. IN this article we have mentioned few tips for maintaining the bike.

On-Time Replacement of Fluids

Know the inclination when your throat is dry and how your body needs to fall when you're dehydrated? It's the equivalent with a bike when it's running or hasn't been renewed with indispensable fluids which are fundamental for its smooth activity. Guarantee that all fluids, including the FRVelion motor oil, FRVelion brake oil, FRVelion coolant, and so on are supplanted are on time.

It is alright to be additional cautious and supplant them somewhat before the suggested interval. Though, delaying the replacement schedule will lead to expanded dull performance, low efficiency, wear-n-tear, and in case you're extremely apathetic, a breakdown in the middle of nowhere.

While topping up, ensure you use manufacturer suggested, top-notch engine oil/ fluids. If you choose to change to an alternate brand, other than what has been determined in the manual, ensure you adhere to the suggested evaluation, viscosity, and temperature parameters indicated for your bike’s engine. Keep the chain clean utilizing a de-greasing item and lubricate it at suggested intervals. Utilize a chain lubricant in particular and don't pour any irregular oil or grease to get the job done.

Regular Services

You have to follow your bike’s manual to the 'T' with regards to visiting the service station for a periodic maintenance stop. Converse with your service advisor and tell him about any known issues the bike’s been confronting. When the job has been done, take the bike for a spin to determine if every single reported issue has been settled and each job referenced in the final bill has been finished. If any significant part has been replaced, request the damaged component to be returned to you. If possible, conceivable, demand for the replacement to be completed in your presence and guarantee parts replaced are genuine.

Signs of Aging

When your bike begins to get old, you should invest significant time all the more frequently for the regular visual inspection. Check for any cracks in the cables or if any of the bulbs have been flickering or sparkling at half their capacity. Notice for any changes in the bike’s performance or any odd clamors from the engine when you ride. In any case, if there's any such thing occurring, visit the service station quickly and get the bike checked as it could be an exhausting clutch or bearing or something surprisingly worse. Check the tires for their track and overall health. Check the wheels for any curves or splits and get them checked for arrangement and balance at regular intervals.

When the battery begins getting more older, it loses its charge rather rapidly and will give up on you eventually. Get it supplanted with another unit whenever required. If in any case any of the control switches or levers look or feel fragile, supplant them. Same goes for the footpegs if they’ve gotten loose, have become excessively scruffy, and don't lend much confidence when you rest your feet on them. You have to check the side stand for its tightness and guarantee it hasn't changed its angle to a lot throughout the years, making the bike tipping perilously while it rests on it.

The fuel filler cap can become ill-fitting or its important mechanism could turn sour with time, permitting fuel to evaporate gradually or water to enter when it rains. Supplant it with another one or fix the current unit if conceivable, since the start key and the filler cap key are generally normal. Try not to disregard the mirrors and guarantee they hold their adjustability at all times. Fix the stem if it's loose or supplants the whole unit if the glass lodging hangs free.

Riding Style

An enormous part of bike maintenance likewise includes your utilization pattern. Ride the bike as per its character and abilities. For example, riding a high-torque bike continually close to its redline is pointless if the engine generates its peak power at a much lower point. So also, on the off chance that you routinely maximize a small capacity single for extended durations, its parts will destroy quicker because of overheating. Frequent cycles of sudden braking, violent gearshifts, and rough gearshifts will bring about expanded wear-and-tear of all major parts. Abandons saying that pulling off wheelies, burnouts, and stoppies isn't just perilous for your own and others' wellbeing, it likewise negatively affects the parts of your bicycle.

Regular Checks

These are easily overlooked details that go far in guaranteeing that your bike remains in a solid-state consistently. Guarantee that the bike is cleaned and you play out a self-check after each long excursion. At the point when you park it, do as such in a place where there's a decent measure of shade. Uncovering your bike to coordinate daylight will ransack the paint of its sheen and cause the plastics and rubber segments to solidify and create breaks. Check and maintain tire pressure frequently. Try not to run the bike in a nearly vacant state frequently. On the off chance that it comes equipped with a FI system, the fuel pump’s life gets diminished radically.

Conclusion

Above FRVelion has given good tips for maintaining the bike so that it remains new for a long time. FRVelion has the best quality of Motorcycle oils that keep your bike’s engine at the best working state.

FRVelion Motorcycle Engine Oil usages innovative technology to offer you the added guarantee of leading motorcycle Engine protection. FRVelion Motorcycle Engine Oil systematically tested in the field, they are verified quality for those seeking protection and performance on two wheels. FRVelion Motorcycle Engine Oil divided into two types one is SYNTHETIC BIKE ENGINE OIL and MINERAL BIKE ENGINE OIL.

For More Info:- Frvelion Oil

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laughingmango · 5 years ago

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1234w, no archive warnings apply, Teens and up Cabanela/Jowd Final Fantasy X AU, Sending

Trick of Treat gift for @siverwrites in lieu of a truckload of heart emojis 💖 a bit streamlined from our vague talks of FFX AU...

It's a tale as old as sin: there is a summoner, whose sacrificial journey will end in death no matter whether in success or in defeat, and there is a guardian, who would just rather have him back. These are the roles set out for them. It is up to Jowd to dance for the dead and he leaves a little bit too much of himself behind; it is up to Cabanela to put his foot down and have absolutely none of that.

It's the second-to-last step to the shore when Jowd - Lord Jowd now, a title that fits well on his broad shoulders but still rolls uncomfortably off the tongue - falters and loses his summoner's grip on the surface of the water. The spell is broken, his feet slip and fall through the waves, pushing him off balance, and Jowd accepts that the sacred ceremony will end with the newly anointed Lord Summoner biting a faceful of sand. He is too tired to fight against this notion, to find his footing and face the townsfolk gathered by the shore with any semblance of dignity. With the single-mindedness that comes with exhaustion, in that moment all his focus, all that matters to him is that his audience, at least, should find it funny. It says in the job description that summoners are to bring smiles to the people of Spira; the rules are not too clear as to how not to do so, and so Jowd is ready to call the day a success.

He does not fall.

He cannot fall. Cabanela has been following his summoner's little improvised choreography on the water's surface, the part of the ritual that took place in the material world, swift footwork and tense muscles keeping a precarious balance above the waves as Jowd's spirit, unseen, communed with the dead and eased their regrets. Tapping his foot to the rhythm of the villagers' chanting and humming its foreign tune, loudly enough to garner a few sideward glances, hasn't taken Cabanela's attention off the main deal. By the time Jowd's absolute concentration breaks, his breath has already been getting short and irregular, and cold sweat has joined the water spray pooling in his brow. On cue, Cabanela hops on the beach, into the cold water, and in one fluid movement he is planting his feet on the sandbed and propping up Jowd with an arm under his shoulder.

They almost fall, alright. But they don't, and that's what matters. Jowd must have known deep down that his guardian was coming, he recognizes him and drops his staff into the sea to wrap his hand around Cabanela's shoulder. They are a team. Balancing their unstable footing, Cabanela manages to pivot them both out of the water's edge and onto the soft sand, where they drop like actors as curtain close. He raises one arm to wave at the small crowd to disperse, trusting the temple monks to handle the rabble and carry out the formalities. Can't they see that the lord summoner is inconvenienced? Lord Jowd shall meet with them all later, or better yet, tomorrow. His guardian is feeling just fine, thanks for askin', he's fine where he is. Just leave them alone.

"Eeexit stage left, we said in Zanarkand..."

"You said... a lot of things in that Zanarkand of yours," says Jowd, still struggling to catch his breath. He has been staring at the darkening sky as the sand grows colder under their backs. The beach has emptied and the waves have long since carried his staff back next to their side. "And I'm still not convinced that's not a royal we."

Cabanela is lying down next to him, stretched on his side like a cat. He finds his summoner more interesting than the first stars above. "Maybe it is, baby," he teases. "Maybe it iiis."

"What? Are you pulling my leg? I have to warn you, it's quite heavy."

"I pulled all of you out of the water earlier, you know."

"I know." A quick smile grows under his beard, fond, thankful, always guarded. "How'd I do?"

"A whole, total, unmitigated disaster. All across the board… Whateeever shall we do with you, baby?"

"You tell me. I'll play along."

As he speaks, Jowd decides that he is tired of staying still and makes an effort to sit up, leaving a trail of drenched robes behind him that give him the looks of a stranded jellyfish. If he leaves on his pilgrimage, and he can see within him that the day looms ever nearer, he swears to himself that he will do away with Yevon's ceremonial robes, fit only for priests and scriveners.

He turns to his side and offers his hand to Cabanela, helping him to sit up as well. Cabanela being Cabanela, he sees a hand and takes the entire arm, clinging to his biceps with candid enthusiasm and taking the liberty to use that momentum to roll into Jowd's lap altogether. An armful of his lanky guardian was not what Jowd had in mind, but he prides himself on being an adaptable fellow and scoops him up properly, keeping him close, breathing in how real and alive his companion is. They are both going along with an unwritten script, uncertain of where it should end, not really wanting it to. Jowd needs this warmth, he realizes, caressing Cabanela's back under the strange fabric of his clothes. He left so much of himself in the still, dark waters of the spirit where the dead could feel him. His guardian makes sure he can find his way back, for now. For example, now he is nuzzling in his beard in a way that keeps teasing the possibility of a neck kiss but doesn't give him the satisfaction. That's got a way of making a man feel alive.

"I'm still waiting for that verdict, Cabanela." Much as he loathes to distract the man.

"Oh, thaaat…" Cabanela lets out a breath he didn't realize he was holding and rests the back of his head against Jowd's shoulder, leaning against him with abandon. He waves his hand dismissively. "That was no dance, baby. That was an atrocity toward mankind."

"I'm supposed to help the dead let go," Jowd points out. If he had a whole feeling left it'd be offended. "If they danced with you they'd want to stick around."

"Who's to say they shooouldn't? Anyhoot, it'd be better than losin' you to them, like you almost did today. You really feel the pull of every cliff you could pooossibly throw yourself off of, don't you? What's so interesting in this Farplane of yours that you can't look away?"

They both know the answer. No need to ruin it by saying it out loud. Jowd shrugs.

"...Fine. Can you help with the dancing?"

"I can help with anything."

There is no arguing with that reply, it's set in stone, like so much of the hodgepodge of beliefs and unshakable will that make up this strange man (Jowd is reminded of a fayth, carved and painted but bubbling with so much more under the surface. Offer it your dream and soar). There is also no arguing with the way Cabanela slides back on the sand, hops up and reaches down to cup Jowd's face, pressing his forehead against his. Jowd can lean into this touch, feel alive, and hopeful, in the doomed way of summoners, at least. If he were to dance again now, the pull back toward the living would be stronger. For the first time, it feels like the road could continue past Guadosalam and toward Zanarkand, a Zanarkand, and at this point either city would suit him just as well.

"I don't wanna lose you, baby."

Cabanela throws him a dry blanket. The temple looms over them; dinner awaits, and a warm bed with it.

"I know."

For today, it's enough.

#ghost trick #cabanela #jowd #siverwrites #fanfiction

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soveryanon · 5 years ago

Text

Reviewing time for MAG156 /X_X/*

- I can’t believe that Simon was actually (not) foreshadowing this statement:

(MAG151) SIMON: I’d say “anytime”, but honestly, if you see me again… I may just throw you off something for a joke. How do you feel about… rollercoasters? MARTIN: Uh… Neutral. SIMON: Oh… [CHAIR SCRAPING] You’re no fun.

(MAG156, Adelard Dekker) “This was all too much for our witness, who had decided that whatever was going on in this place, he wanted no part of it. But as he turned to look for a way out, there was a sound that cut through the background din of the park: it was a scream from the rollercoaster, but not the joyful cry of adrenaline and mock terror, but a dreadful, piercing wail flying through the air. It seemed one of the riders, unable to properly benefit from the safety bar, had been thrown from the car at the height of a loop, and was sailing through the air, landing on the unforgiving ground of the main avenue with a horrendous crunch.”

(It’s like “rollercoasters” became part of Jonny’s imagery book in recent episodes only – there was this episode, there was Simon, and there was also Annabelle: “But by then, you’re away: the roller coaster is dropping and you’ve no real choice but to hold on and hope that… I don’t crash you.” (MAG147) We didn’t really have any before that!)

(I got Roller Coaster Tycoon flashbacks – you could get accidents so easily in your rollercoasters with badly controlled velocity, you could trap your visitors forever, they could be miserable, you could bury them in never-ending holes, they could drown… How come, except for this statement and The Stanger’s circus, the entities haven’t really banked on theme parks to get their hands on many unsuspecting people?)

- HEY, that’s so cool:

(MAG156, Adelard Dekker) “It’s a little too out-of-the-way to be a common destination for teenage delinquency, but has become, I’m told, quite popular with what could be described as “rural urban exploration” groups. Apparently, the lack of – well – actual urban areas to explore means that locations such as this? Become quite a draw for those in the area with an interest in abandoned places. And of course, its rather forbidding appearance, after ten years of decay, has led a few ghost hunters out that way as well; though I’m not aware of any specific tragedies or stories about it that would give them much to go on.”

I don’t even need Tim to be mentioned to feel Sad About Tim. (=> spontaneous feeling since “urbex” was mentioned.)

- Updated chronology of Adelard’s letters regarding The Extinction:

* MAG134: Statement of Adelard Dekker, taken from a letter to Gertrude Robinson dated 22nd January, 2006. * MAG156: Statement of Adelard Dekker, taken from a letter to Gertrude Robinson dated 4th January, 2009. * MAG144: Statement of Gary Boylan, given October 3rd, 2009. * MAG113: Statement of Adelard Dekker. Statement undated, likely circa 2012. * MAG149: Statement of Judith O’Neill, given May 13th, 2013.

Adelard was a biiit less affirmative and dead-set on the existence of The Extinction in this one – he did mention that Gertrude wasn’t absolutely convinced, and the statements&letters he sent her way were precisely supposed to back-up his theory:

(MAG134, Adelard Dekker) “I am now certain my theory is correct: there is something new emerging. A fifteenth Power. I didn’t want to believe it either, not at first, but I was alerted a few months ago to the case of a woman named Bernadette Delcour. […] Now I know what you’re going to say, Gertrude: odd doors are signs of The Spiral, empty worlds tend towards The Lonely, and eschatology is almost literally the study of The End. But this is different. I feel it. This Fear is new. This is a fear of extinction. Of change. […] I know you don’t credit my theories, and I’m sure you’ll have plenty to say on this one, but I’m going to need your help with this at some point – I’m sure of it. […] I’ll keep searching for evidence, trying to find… instances and manifestations of The Extinction. I’ll keep you updated.”

(MAG156, Adelard Dekker) “I’d be inclined to chalk this up as a genuine Extinction manifestation. But I don’t know. Am I drawing wild conclusions, trying to fit the account into my own preconceptions? Keen to know your feelings on the matter.”

(MAG113, Adelard Dekker) “I was pursuing my researches into the new emergence I mentioned earlier. I know you are dismissive of the possibility, but if I’m right, the sudden urgency of these “immediate dangers” you are so focused on could very well be a direct result. But that’s for another day, as this particular instance turned out to be unconnected.”

(MAG149) MARTIN: There’s… hum, a, a note here as well. [PAPER RUSTLING] Looks like Gertrude’s handwriting? Start of a letter to… Dekker, thanking him for sending Judith to her, though… it doesn’t look like it was ever finished or sent. [PAPER RUSTLING] “I assume this is another one he was trying to use to prove The Extinction? It… certainly has something in it. Mankind’s trash giving rise to something terrible. And again, fear of the other, inanimate humanoid figures. That’s all very… Stranger, isn’t it?”

Had Gertrude managed to temper him a bit, at first, after his initial conviction that there was a new Fear? Given the 2013 statement, what he found later was proof enough for him, at least.

- It’s cool that, thanks to the dates and the mention from Adelard, we can fit this letter in the broader scheme of Gertrude’s own actions:

(MAG130) GERTRUDE: Gertrude Robinson recording. December 19th, 2008. … In your own time. LUCIA: Right, okay. So. Hum. I was on holiday, actually. […] When a deal came up in the middle of October, the five days in Istanbul, I jumped on it. […] GERTRUDE: Dekker really came through with the explosives! It almost felt like cheating. Sad about the loss of history but Miss Wright didn’t seem to think the old Gnostic church got many visitors anyway.

(MAG156, Adelard Dekker) “Gertrude, I wanted your opinion on an encounter I’ve had described to me recently, and given your recent dealing with Viscera, I would very much value your input. Good job on that, by the way; I’m sure the gnostic temple was a great loss culturally speaking, but I can’t help but admire your directness when it comes to dealing with this sort of thing. I often find myself locked in a bit of an esoteric paralysis about how to proceed.”

(Could have just been “viscera” as the English noun, but given how he had called The End “Terminus” in MAG113, I think it was “Viscera” for The Flesh itself, and that he tends to favour Latin names?)

That statement was sent shortly after stopping The Flesh, then! I’m a bit curious because, from what Gertrude had said, I had got the feeling that Adelard had been present on the scene and had been the one to activate the explosives, although Gertrude herself was there in the flesh (ha):

(MAG130) LUCIA: It was barely more than a ruin. More than that, I seemed to be almost entirely alone. There’d been an old woman coming out of it when I arrived but… I hadn’t seen anyone apart from her. […] GERTRUDE: Well…! That – is – a relief. When I heard there’d been survivors of “The Last Feast”, I was rather concerned that one of them might be able to positively identify me, [CHUCKLE] which could land me in all sorts of trouble! But she doesn’t seem to remember me at all.

But it seems like Adelard wasn’t really involved in person… Did he really just supply the explosives and/or manage to get his hands on some because Gertrude has specifically asked? With what they both said, I couldn’t help but entertain the thought that they were both congratulating each other for… something a third party actually did, without either of them realising.

(If it wasn’t for Adelard’s quick comment in MAG134 (“Sorry I can’t be there in person to go over all this with you.”), I would still doubt that Adelard and Gertrude ever met each other face-to-face. It sounds like they were penpals, but kept a lot of distance – was it a way to try to avoid The Eye’s surveillance? I’m fearing a bit that Adelard will turn out to be yet another deceptive figure ;; Well. At the very least, he was a bit old, or at least had grey hair already in 2001 (MAG078: “his short hair was iron grey”), and Eric did point out that people who manage to get old in this business tend to, uh… not be the Greatest People Around.)

- So, were the teeth marks around the mirrors there because the park’s attendees could see through to the other side, and were really craving some of that (our) meat…?

(MAG156, Adelard Dekker) “Everything seemed more or less maintained, with paint that was old and starting to peel, but a long way from the bare, rotten wood it had been before. The only thing in worse condition were the mirrors themselves, the frames of which were now pocked with tiny, irregular indentations all the way round. It would be some time before the idea would come to him that they were teeth marks.”

Adelard pointed out that he had been reminded of Flesh with this one, and, indeed, there was the overall idea that “meat is me(at)” in the random outburst of cannibalism as soon as an opportunity arose – that part made me think of The Slaughter a bit (because… they were coexisting beforehand? It was a plain amusement park, with a few oddities), though I mostly got a Stranger vibe all through it (because of the fact that it was the familiar made unfamiliar, that these people were not-quite-people but meant harm anyway, and an overall wrongness to the whole experience).

(MAG156, Adelard Dekker) “There were people striding down the main avenue, past the well-lit booths trying to entice them with coconut throws and hoop games. The rollercoaster rattled along in the background, the faint screams of its riders drifting over the crowds below. For a few seconds, it seemed almost legitimately joyful. But as he watched, a certain wrongness began to become clear – meaningless details, if they were confined to a single punter, but all the park-goers seemed the same. […] A sudden silence fell over the place. The rides still whirred and rang and jangled, but every person there had gone completely still, their eyes locked on the mangled mess of broken limbs and shattered bone. It was the carnie that went first, vaulting over the side of the coconut shy with an unexpected agility. Then, it was as if a dam had broken, and every half-wasted figure descended on the twisted corpse. […] He tells me he was suddenly very aware of just how much flesh was on his body. […] So: what are your thoughts? I’m keen to hear your own interpretation of this account. My first assumption would have been The Flesh, based on the cannibalism and strangeness of the bodies involved, but… something about this idea of some sort of “famine world”, its location within a made-man ruin, the whole… societal aspect of it… I’d be inclined to chalk this up as a genuine Extinction manifestation. But I don’t know. Am I drawing wild conclusions, trying to fit the account into my own preconceptions? Keen to know your feelings on the matter.”

I’m glad that Adelard expressed a few doubts about his methodology regarding The Extinction, the fact that he’s not quite sure it’s actually a thing and not his own fantasies slapped on “usual” Fears-stuff, because I’m really getting this feeling too? At the same time, we know that the classifications have always been arbitrary, and Jon still might have provided the best summary (MAG111: “An infinite amorphous blob of terror bleeding out in every direction at once.”) – so The Extinction is a thing and is not a thing at the same time, it would always be impossible to perfectly nail it down and put it in a box?

The exploitable data is mostly the reoccurrences in the statements Adelard felt were Extinction:

* Appearing in abandoned places, or (man-made) places that have lost their purposes: Garland Hillier’s flat, which had been forgotten by history (MAG134); the old Bright Lake amusement park (MAG156); Gary Boylan’s emptied rural land in the countryside (MAG144). The only exception would be Judith O’Neill’s statement in the Amazonian forest (MAG149), though it shares the fact that it was isolated and not visited (it actually sounded like the reverse, a man-made-ish thing contaminating another place?).

* It’s never a solitary monster, but always multiple creatures that seem indistinctive.

(MAG134, Adelard Dekker) “But honestly, trying to get a description of these… things, these “Inheritors” from Bernadette Delcour made me wish I could just pull the image from her lips, like you would have been able to. In the end, she would say nothing of them, except that [STATIC]: “There is nothing done in the history of humanity that deserves the things that come after us.””

(MAG156, Adelard Dekker) “There were people striding down the main avenue […]. all the park-goers seemed the same. The first was how baggy their clothes were: it almost seemed as though everyone was wearing some sort of oversized novelty t-shirt. But it was the same with the shirts, jackets, dresses – until it became apparent that it was not the clothes that were too big, but the wearers who were too small. Their limbs were painfully thin to look at, their flesh stretched tight over jutting bones, and the fabric hung off them like great flaps of skin. The hair on each head was thin, and wispy, often missing in great chunks, and their eyes were sunken so hollow that from a distance, they seemed almost empty.”

(MAG144, Gary Boylan) “There are terrible things coming. Things that if we knew of them, would leave us weak, and trembling, with shuddering terror at the knowledge that they are coming for all of us. We all made them, and their course is already plotted. You can see them in the numbers. If you’d only learn how to read them.”

(MAG149, Judith O’Neill) “There were no people in there, but… that’s not the same thing as it being empty. Instead, there were… figures. From a distance, they looked like human beings, standing impossibly still. But getting closer… quickly revealed the lie. It was just the rough shapes, cobbled together out of a hundred different pieces of garbage: a broken metal clotheshorse for a ribcage; a… plastic chair leg for an arm; rusted screws for teeth. In some cases, it looked like someone had gone through a lot of effort to match anatomy with construction. I saw one with a broken water-cooler where its stomach would be, and another had a pair of oxygen tanks standing in for lungs. They were completely still, but there was something about them that made my mouth dry up, and my mind scream to run. [STATIC] It didn’t feel like they were statues. It felt like they were choosing not to move.”

* People who had an encounter were trespassers who… were thrown into another “world” at a distinct moment, and had to go back the same way. Exception would be Gary Boylan, who apparently received a message without crossing the line – but the message was performative and harmed his community?

(MAG134, Adelard Dekker) “She turned to leave and that, she says, is when she started to get the sense that something was wrong. The door had been damaged by the builders who uncovered the place, and there were several distinct gaps in the wood. But as she walked back out, the door appeared to be whole. She ignored it, and left anyways, trying to reason it all as a strange quirk of memory. Just one of those things. Unfortunately for her, it was not the only thing that had changed. The walls of the stairwell were discoloured, as though covered with a dusting of some… faint yellowish dirt, and the stone steps were ever so slightly sticky beneath her shoes. There was no sound, no sign of life other than the squeaking of leather as she descended, trying desperately to convince herself that nothing was wrong; that it had been just as quiet on the way up; that this building had always had a thick, humid feeling to the air. […] Remembering Hillier’s words about the door, she had just enough time to retreat back to the apartment and barricade herself inside. Then, she waited until the entrance changed again, and she could emerge back into the world she remembered. At least, that’s my interpretation of events.”

(MAG156, Adelard Dekker) “It was the third mirror that did it. The one that expanded him into a short, squat reflection caused no problems; neither did the one that bent him out of shape. But the third mirror, the one that squeezed him, made him thin, and gaunt… that was the one which took him. He outright refused to tell me exactly how he was pulled through it, but by the look in his eyes, I have no doubt it was a powerfully unpleasant experience – so much so that he claims to have lost consciousness. […] He then took what I consider to be his only sensible action in the entire affair: rather than running straight to the mirror which distorted him into a thin, angular figure, he took a moment to look at each one, and one of them showed no reflection at all. His next action of running full-pelt into it was perhaps less inspired, but it does seem to have been effective, since when he regained consciousness, covered in blood and broken glass, he was once again in the silent darkness of the abandoned Bright Lake amusement park he had made the unwise decision to break into.”

(MAG144, Gary Boylan) “I was passing by an old cheap metal barn when I heard it. I’d been listening to music as I walked, when my iPod abruptly cut out. I stopped where I was, and took it out of my pocket, assuming I’d knocked it or somehow turned it off. But the screen was on, apparently playing music, though I didn’t immediately recognise the song. I got a pretty sizeable music collection, but I feel like I do know it pretty well. This one had no artist, no album, just the track name: “Numbers”. […] I ran as fast as I could to the pylon, that ruined place that knew all of the numbers, and I fell to my knees and wept. I begged it to spare us, to spare me, as I stared at the flesh I knew would redden, and bubble, and blister away to the bone beneath. I didn’t need headphones to hear the numbers now. They were pouring from the air around me and threaded through my mind, and no matter how I begged, they would not stop.”

(MAG149, Judith O’Neill) “He shifted his leg, trying to keep his footing, but slipped on the now muddy ground, falling and pulling me with him. I instinctively grabbed Fernanda for support, but ended up pulling her down as well, the three of us tumbling down a short and muddy decline and landing hard in the foliage. It took a few moments to pull ourselves together. It wasn’t a huge fall? But I felt strangely disorientated as I clambered to my feet, shaking my head in an attempt to dispel some of the… mm, fuzziness, that had settled over it. The others clearly felt it too, although… checking ourselves over, it seemed we’d been lucky: all we had broken was our equipment. Although Dr. Anastas whined about that almost as much as if it had been a bone. I tried to get my bearings, but… even though we’d only moved a few meters laterally at most, I was finding it really hard to get a solid idea on where we were. I couldn’t figure out exactly which way we had come, and… I couldn’t get a clear read on the sun through the canopy and clouds. Fernanda wasn’t having any better luck with the compasses, as they were either broken, or something magnetic in the area was messing with them. They just generally span around and around. […] That was when I noticed how quiet it was. Aside from the rain, the jungle cacophony had… simply stopped. […] I don’t know how long we ran, but it was hours before we felt even remotely safe. The jungle looked normal again and, more importantly, it sounded normal.”

* The things from the other side marked the people who had escaped, and might be coming through our world because of them?

(MAG134, Adelard Dekker) “I may try to interview her again later, though I have my suspicions she may find herself disappearing. She has that… quality about her, I’m sure you know what I mean, o–of an unfinished meal. And I can only hope that when the second course starts, she can remember her way back to Garland Hillier’s apartment once more. But of course, the evidence suggests that, in the end, even he wasn’t able to.”

(MAG156, Adelard Dekker) “He told me, near the end, that he had recently been worried he was being followed. He keeps catching glimpses of a thin figure in the distance, or disappearing around a corner, and I can’t quite get past the detail that there was no reflection at all in the mirror he used to return. If my suspicions are correct, there’s little either of us could do for him; but do take care, should you make contact.”

Peter also insisted that The Extinction would be coming through from a particular point (“where”):

(MAG156) PETER: Well. There’s something at the centre, a… let’s call it a “device”. Now – our biggest problem with The Extinction is lack of information. We know it’s emerging, but we don’t know how, or where. MARTIN: And this… “device” will help. PETER: Yes…!

… and I’m a bit surprised by that because, so far, the only case of Fears coming through a specific space was during rituals carried out by their servants? So, The Extinction’s birth should require servants in the first place, and that should be the focus? Or are Fears actually tied to spaces and places, as Smirke used to believe? Yes, the Powers have strongholds, but those were created by avatars (and the Fears people felt, such as with the taxidermy shop) – so how could The Extinction come through at a singular, located point…? (Or is Peter absolutely wrong? Or is there a human-made punctual catastrophe approaching in their world, and that would be The Extinction’s cue to sneak in? Once again, Peter: where did you get the info and your theories about The Extinction being “active” and trying to annihilate the world, when the only statements Martin read were these ones…)

- I’m once again reminded of the Not!Them in the way “something” was pursuing Adelard’s statement-giver:

(MAG156, Adelard Dekker) “Oh – one more thing: if you do try to follow up with my source – and I know you have your own ways of finding him should you wish – please be careful. He told me, near the end, that he had recently been worried he was being followed. He keeps catching glimpses of a thin figure in the distance, or disappearing around a corner, and I can’t quite get past the detail that there was no reflection at all in the mirror he used to return. If my suspicions are correct, there’s little either of us could do for him; but do take care, should you make contact.”

And it’s still interesting to me that Adelard had been the one to bind the Not!Them to the table prior to his research about Extinction? The way The Extinction had been described in MAG134 had already reminded me a bit of the Not!Them:

(MAG134, Adelard Dekker) “This Fear is new. This is a fear of extinction. Of change. It used to be part of The End, perhaps, when The End of humanity was to be the end of all things; but now, the fear is not of a rapture or a revelation; it is of catastrophic change. A change in our world that will wipe out what it means to be “us”, and leave something else in its place.” […] PETER: The Extinction is… different. It’s active. It will seek to create a lifeless world, in a way that none of the other Powers ever would. Some interpretations suggest it might replace us with something new, that can then fear annihilation in turn. But I and those like me would rather that did not happen.

Although Not!Sasha admitted to being a creature from The Stranger (MAG079: “Once upon a time there was a monster, but no one realised. Sometimes someone did and then they were scared, so that was good. […] So the monster got its friends to carry the table all around, and it still got to take faces and scare people.”) – it specifically fed on the Fears of people noticing that someone they knew was now a stranger. And I still can’t help but feel like maybe Adelard was right on a new Fear emerging, but off in his description of it, of what it does and what it feeds from, mostly because his past experiences were colouring his interpretation…?

(Adelard acknowledged it could be the case in this episode, which, nice! But is it supposed to joss the idea that he could have been wrong, or precisely to introduce the idea that he was…)

- … I kinda hope that Adelard is not dead because the SOLIDARITY with Jon…

(MAG076) MELANIE: I was actually a meme for a day or two. … You… do know what that is, don’t you? ARCHIVIST: Yes, I know what a meme is. You were saying?

(MAG156, Adelard Dekker) “My young friend was specifically intending to use it as the site of a party they were planning to throw. Based on his description, I would have called it a “rave” but when I said so, he looked at me like I didn’t understand what he was talking about. […] He was very interested in the hall of mirrors. According to him, if it was still in good shape, it would have been an amazing place to put on a light show, and let his guests dance their way through the maze. Sounds like a good way to get injured to me, but apparently I used the word “rave” wrong, so what do I know.”

(Ahahaha, 36th episode of a season in both cases.)

I’m so glad that Martin got to read this statement because his voice can get SO nasal and petty in these occasions, and it was Beautiful.

(What was the thing, if not a “rave”, though? Was the guy only squinting because he wasn’t expecting Adelard to use the word? Because uh, if not a rave, what was it supposed to be? An orgy?)

- Confirmed by Word Of Jonny that that mention was indeed there to be heard as Adelard being religious and !!

(MAG156, Adelard Dekker) “I often find myself locked in a bit of an esoteric paralysis about how to proceed. Still. God grant me clarity to act when I need it.”

(MAG078, Lawrence Moore) “He was black, dressed in a crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and a thin necktie. For a moment I had the idea he might be a Jehovah’s Witness, but one look at his face dispelled that idea immediately. It was hard and stern, set in look of determination, and his short hair was iron grey. He was very thin, with aging skin stretched tight over wiry, corded muscle, and though he was slightly shorter than I was, it seemed like he towered over me. […] He told me his name was Adelard Dekker, and that he was an exorcist, of sorts.”

So maybe he didn’t just look like a Jehovah’s witness, but genuinely is one? Also aouch about the gnostic temple then:

(MAG156, Adelard Dekker) “Good job on that, by the way; I’m sure the gnostic temple was a great loss culturally speaking, but I can’t help but admire your directness when it comes to dealing with this sort of thing.”

Because I can’t tell if he was throwing shade at Gertrude about it and the fact she had destroyed a precious religious place… or was absolutely uncaring about it because it wasn’t his own religion.

- I feel like, as in with Eric’s accusations, Adelard was a biiiiiiiiit harsh (and fair) about Gertrude actually being way more Eye-aligned that we had been led to think in season 3?

(MAG154) ERIC: She didn’t try to keep me in the dark just so I wouldn’t stop being useful. She never made me complicit in a thousand nightmares, and lives ruined for the sick joy of some otherworldly voyeur. […] I know what you say, what you think you’re doing – saving the world one poor doomed soul at a time. I mean, I understand; I do! … But I couldn’t be a part of it. Not when I saw what happened to everyone else you involved. I had to get out, to escape this place. […] I’m sure you’ll find something… “neater”. A strong acid, precisely applied? That sounds more your style. If you decide to do it, that is. GERTRUDE: Nn, I, I–I don’t know… ERIC: No… It’s not an easy sacrifice to make, is it? GERTRUDE: I still have work to do. ERIC: Don’t you always.

(MAG156, Adelard Dekker) “You will forgive me if I withhold his name, as I have all the verification I need to be convinced he’s telling the truth, and I find it hard to believe any follow-up you’d be interested in doing would be beneficial for him. He’s earned his anonymity. […] Oh – one more thing: if you do try to follow up with my source – and I know you have your own ways of finding him should you wish – please be careful.”

The end of the letter was mostly about Gertrude’s safety, but still… Adelard mentioned shielding his witness from Gertrude, and that’s… something. Did she change her habits around the time she met Gerry (because he was Who He Was, or because she was more reluctant to serve The Eye now that The Watcher’s Crown was an identified threat), or was Gerry… not noticing that she was using her powers to that point…? Both Tim and Basira lauded Gertrude’s efficiency, but at the same time, we’ve been seeing a lot more of her terrible sides this season (Michael Shelley had been a huge one already, and we learned that she was planning to use Gerry to stop The Stranger, Eric mentioned her victims, Arthur was kept in place by her (how powerful and scary must have she been, to contain another monster?), and now we’re seeing Adelard relying on her but being wary of the harm she could do to others…)

(Also, Adelard had a tiny change of heart regarding Gertrude’s powers, between 2006 and 2009:

(MAG134, Adelard Dekker) “I have never envied you your position, Gertrude. I have never coveted your gifts, as I know the terrible costs that come with them. But honestly, trying to get a description of these… things, these “Inheritors” from Bernadette Delcour made me wish I could just pull the image from her lips, like you would have been able to.”

(MAG156, Adelard Dekker) “I do envy you your gifts sometimes, Gertrude. His account of their pursuit through the mirror-maze was so disjointed that I was honestly unable to follow it. Even after he tried to take me through it two, or even three times. Without The Eye’s clarifying influence, panic can make details… difficult to remember.”

Was it the frustration, pushing him to get a bit envious…? Three years is not a lot; had something happened to him in that timeframe…?)

- Ooooooooooh, so Martin actually followed up on his first interaction with a tape recorder this season:

(MAG126) MARTIN: You do you. Spool away, I guess. Just, you know, let me know if need some more batteries or something.

(MAG156) MARTIN: You know… I’ve been wondering about your batteries. Like, could I just take the batteries out each time one of you appears and just… have an infinite supply of batteries? I mean, I, I won’t, don’t worry. Don’t really have anything that needs them these days. … Also, I know there’s every chance you don’t even have any?, and it’s just empty, and… well… I’m not really sure that’s something I want to confirm.

(Gotta love how Martin went from benevolently offering assistance, to pondering out loud about harming. He did say that he wouldn’t do it, but… Martin. (By “love”, I mean: “I’m worried about Martin’s current state of mind.” But at the same time, I Understand, and the fact he’s not planning on doing it, and is just musing about it, is what matters. It’s a bit of a violent thought-process, but also a bit silly, carrying on with an idea that doesn’t serve any purpose. That’s so random. That really sounds like Martin?))

Isn’t it curious that he’s obsessing with those? … isn’t it a bit scary that the way the world “battery” has been used in season 4 was in the context of a “fear battery” (MAG135, Manuela Dominguez: “I never learned his name, never needed to; he was simply a battery. A ready source of constant terror I could draw on for my experiments.”). Are the tape recorders plainly powered by the scraps of Fears (or the static parts specifically?) of the statements or interactions we hear…?

- I’M SO SAD BUT SO GLAD THAT “MARTIN TALKING TO THE TAPE RECORDERS” IS STILL A THING…

(MAG098) MARTIN: Huh. Yeah, y’know, y’know what? A little privacy would be nice sometimes, okay? Not everything’s for you! You don’t need to listen to everything that we– … Alright, you know what? Y’know what… If you’re that eager, fine.

(MAG126) [CLICK–] [CLOCK IN THE BACKGROUND] [TYPING SOUNDS] MARTIN: [SIGH] Oh. Hello. Haven’t seen you in a while. [TYPING] … Really? I mean, it’s just admin. It’s not exactly thrilling listening. … Alright, fine. Whatever. You do you. Spool away, I guess. Just, you know, let me know if need some more batteries or something. [TYPING] … It’s because he’s back, isn’t it. [SIGH] He’s back, so now you’re going to be… around, again. Listening in. Mff. You missed him, didn’t you. … Yeah. … [VERY SHARP SQUEAL OF DISTORTION] Yeah, me too.

(MAG154) [CLICK–] [CLOCK TICKING IN THE BACKGROUND] [TYPING SOUNDS] [COMPUTER MOUSE CLICKING] MARTIN: Oh. Right. [CHUCKLE] Hello, again. [TWO CLICKS, TYPING RESUMES] Look, sorry pal, [SHORT LAUGH] false alarm this time…! [ONE CLICK] Oh, unless… [SIGH] [TWO AGGRESSIVE CLICKS] [TO THE ROOM:] Peter!

(MAG156) [CLICK–] [CLOCK TICKING IN THE BACKGROUND] [PAPER RUSTLING] MARTIN: Hm? … Oh. [CHUCKLE] Yeah. [PAPER RUSTLING] I was gonna read one. Hate for you to miss it! [CHUCKLE] [PAUSE] You know… I’ve been wondering about your batteries. Like, could I just take the batteries out each time one of you appears and just… have an infinite supply of batteries? I mean, I, I won’t, don’t worry. […] Still, kind of nice to talk to some… thing. [INHALE] It’s always… quiet, these days. For me, at least. […] I mean, if you’ve got any thoughts, I’d love to hear them. … Hm? [SILENCE] No – didn’t think so. [LONG INHALE] That’s not what you’re here for, is it? [SIGH] No. You want this. [PAPER RUSTLING] Fine. [LONG INHALE] Fine, have it your way. As usual.

He is the only one to humanise them and talk to them directly (… except for Tim’s “Alright. I don’t know what you are. I don’t even know if you’re listening; I don’t care. Just, if you’re there, I want you to know that I hate you. I hate you for, for witnessing what has happened to us.” in MAG117) – even Jon is talking to them in third person? Except for a tiny humorous bit in MAG132 (“You’re coming with me! [SHORT CHUCKLE] Let’s do this one properly.”).

On the one hand, I’m glad because it’s So Soft and please, allow Martin to have a pet (which would stay alive :|), and on the other hand, it’s so sad, because those are one-sided conversations and it shows how desperate he is…? It feels like tape recorders are supplying him with the only interaction he’s now able to feel some comfort in – one-sided things, without any answers, just him talking to the void and to something that wants something from him without giving anything in return. And now, he also… stopped talking to Jon through them, only addressing the item and the recording act:

(MAG138) MARTIN: I don’t know what Peter’s planning, but my–my guess is that it might involve something below the Institute. Hopefully, by the time you get these tapes, I’ll have something more concrete for you. [PAUSE] Good luck, Jon, I– … [HUFF] Stay safe.

(MAG142) MARTIN: I should probably try to get him this tape, let him know what happened, that someone came in to… But then, ahah, would that just come across as an accusation? Like, because I don’t wanna… And then, then I guess he’d… hear this bit as well, so… I… I… [LONG EXHALE] What do I do…?

(MAG156) MARTIN: Anyway. I know he’s been listening to the tapes so, [INHALE] I guess that’ll have to do. I think I still care that he hears my voice. It’s hard to tell, sometimes. How much do I actually care; how much is just feeling that I should care.

;; He used to address Jon directly… Though he did seem in plain control of the recording in MAG138, contrary to MAG156. I wasn’t sure about his comment above, at first, but given his slight surprise when he saw the tape recorder… aouch, I think it implies that Martin wasn’t planning to record his reading this time around, and to only leave the statements for Jon and the other…? Or at least, that he isn’t sure anymore that the fact that he would be the one recording matters. And that’s… just… so sad…

- Sssso Martin’s spontaneous suspects about what could be inside A Spooky Tape Recorder are:

Flesh, Corruption and Lonely. It makes a lot of sense, since the three of them (through Jared, worms, Peter) terrorised him:

(MAG131) JARED: When we came up through the floor, it was wonderful. I don’t think I’ll ever forget the look on their faces. It was like their world had gone with the floor. The weak one legged it, and I thought the skinny one did too.

(MAG022) MARTIN: I think I might have… lost my mind a bit, then. It all… feels very… strange, blurry. I–I remember stamping and stamping as–as more made their way under my doorway. I–I remember grabbing every towel, sock, bit of fabric scrap that I could find, stuffing them under the door, into the cracks around the window. Anything where a slender worm might crawl I made airtight. And then I sat there and waited.

(MAG039) TIM: Martin’s gone. ARCHIVIST: I’m getting to that. Martin has disappeared. Tim was right about there being fewer worms down here, but they are much faster. More aggressive. None of us have been hit yet but… during one of the more alarming encounters, Martin ran off. TIM: He thought we were behind him, I think. ARCHIVIST: He didn’t think at all.

(MAG108) PETER: Do I scare you Martin? MARTIN: Yes…! PETER: Hm. Probably for the best.

But I’m still squinting hard that one of the prime suspect should have been “spiders spinning inside”, and Martin, who loves spiders, who had specifically described Gertrude’s hidden room in the tunnels through an absence of webs (MAG040: “She was sat in a wooden chair in the middle of the room. No worms. No cobwebs. Just… an old corpse.”), didn’t raise that possibility, so MMMMMmmm…

- If Peter’s dying this season, I’m gonna miss him so much because he’s SO SHITTY…

(MAG156) MARTIN: [LONG SIGH] I just wish [VERY SHARP SQUEAL OF DISTORTION] Peter would finally get round to telling me what we’re meant to be doing about it…! PETER: Then I have– MARTIN: [SURPRISED YELP] [CHAIR CLATTERING?] PETER: –good news for you! MARTIN: Peter, we have talked about this! PETER: In my defence, it is still quite funny. […] Excellent. I’m so proud of you, Martin. MARTIN: I really don’t care. PETER: Perfect.

I really really hope that he’s genuinely confusing Martin’s snappiness towards him as a general rejection of people – to me, it still feels like Peter Remains A Special Case and that Martin personally doesn’t like him? Well. Has grown fonder of/a bit more dependent on him than planned, certainly, since Martin still thought he was better than nothing:

(MAG149) MARTIN: Peter hasn’t rocked up with some more… “insights”? Haven’t seen him around for a while, actually. I mean… eh, it’s not like I miss him [CHUCKLING] but, at least he was someone to– [PAUSE] … Ah. [HUFF] [PAPER RUSTLING] Yeah, that makes sense. [EXHALE] A’ight, fine. Just… me on my lonesome for a while, then.

(MAG151) MARTIN: I can’t. Peter’s the one with the plan, and… it needs me to be alone. BASIRA: And you don’t see anything suspicious about that? MARTIN: Of course I do! But it… might be the only way and… [INHALE] So far, at least, he’s been honest with me. Awful, but… honest. I need to do this. For everyone.

But I don’t think that, unless it’s about Peter’s skills/knowledge, Martin would feel sad if Peter were to disappear. (… Or would he?)

- And AOUCH for that textbook manipulation bit of… suddenly rushing things. They’ve been static for so long, and now, just because Peter has said so, they have to act quickly – so Martin has less time for planning.

(MAG154) MARTIN: [EXASPERATED INHALE] So. What’s the news? PETER: I think we’re finally ready! MARTIN: Great. And does that mean I finally get to know what we’re ready for? PETER: Yes! Well… for the most part. To a certain degree, you really need to see it for yourself. […] If you need more time… MARTIN: I don’t. PETER: … Good! Because I was going to say there probably isn’t any. MARTIN: If it’s been down there all this time, how come we haven’t found it? Jon explored the tunnels pretty thoroughly, and Leitner was down there a lot. PETER: It’s very difficult to reach if you don’t know exactly where you’re going. MARTIN: … And you do? PETER: I will. By tomorrow, I should have my hands on a map, and then… we go. [SILENCE] MARTIN: … Right.

* Martin gets some time, but I’m not sure he’ll leave an audio testament for the others (especially since Jon had discovered the previous tapes sooner than he had planned), just like the assistants had done in MAG117. But maybe a letter…? I’m not even sure he would bother, but…

* What was The Thing that would suddenly require them to hurry things through…? Is it that Jon has found a way for the assistants to leave The Eye? Is it that Jon is coming closer to a breaking point, withdrawal-wise? Is it that Peter actually fears Julia&Trevor? Is it that someone/something (Annabelle, Adelard?) is ready to make their move against the Institute? Is it to mess with Martin, since Martin sounds ready? Is it because the end of 2018 is slowly coming closer and Peter would still need to act before the end of the Institute’s anniversary year and/or they’re approaching the exact anniversary date of its foundation? Is it because Elias is on the verge of breaking free from prison, and Peter is scared of the consequences given how he Lonely’d a few staff members and made a mess of the scheduling…?

(- Ahahahah, and no mention of Trevor&Julia around Martin… does he even KNOW they threatened Jon and the others, and could come back any moment? Does Peter know? Will they mess up their plans down in the tunnels…?

No mention of Melanie either – did Martin read her letter? Did some spiders snatch it up before anyone could read it, or did Peter take it far from Martin’s sight…? There must have been a huuuge commotion at the Institute when Melanie was taken by the emergency unit, did Martin even notice…?)

- Regarding Martin’s… apathy? comfort in his isolation? We had been warned by Peter, and Martin had mentioned pretty often that he was growing accustomed to this situation, but with this episode…

(MAG156) MARTIN: Still, kind of nice to talk to some… thing. [INHALE] It’s always… quiet, these days. For me, at least. I guess I technically have the power to make it not quiet, to… to talk to people, but like… You know, I–I also have the power to clean out the fridge, and it’s still a mess. It’s not that I don’t want to clean the fridge, it’s just… Some things are just hard…! Anyway. I know he’s been listening to the tapes so, [INHALE] I guess that’ll have to do. I think I still care that he hears my voice. It’s hard to tell, sometimes. How much do I actually care; how much is just feeling that I should care. I’m on my own so much these days, I… just wish I didn’t like it so much.

IT’S PLAIN DEPRESSION, MARTIN ??? There was still no mention of Melanie nor of her letter, but… if he has read it, it might have contributed to the numbness (everything is fading, collapsing, Martin is on his own and the other assistants are not his friends, have never have been, and he doesn’t know them much). And gosh, it sounds like Jon was spot-on about it in “Cul-de-Sac” (well, at least about the part about Martin being hit hard by The Lonely; Jon’s examples were… kinda optimistic, compared to what’s happening with Martin):

(MAG150) ARCHIVIST: Statement ends. The Lonely is… possibly the most insidious of the powers, I believe. Certainly it is the one that… most delights in having you do its work for it. Even the Spiders seem to have a hard time matching it for sheer seductiveness. [HUFF] “Time to yourself”, “self-care”, “putting yourself forward”… “not being a burden on those you care about”… [PAUSE] It doesn’t even need to tell you any lies; just waits for the lies you tell yourself.

It just feels so bad and sad, that… Peter’s grooming might be working? That Elias, who had guided Peter in Martin’s direction, is winning by proxy? That Martin is taking refuge in something that feels comfortable and is self-destructive at the same time, in something that actually makes him miserable? He doesn’t seem happy nor at peace, it just seems like Actually Facing things outside of his self-imposed goal (stopping The Extinction, protecting the others from afar) had become scary and too difficult, too… It just feels extra-double bad given how Peter had been around and “tying” Martin up in the Extinction plot when Martin was apparently at his lowest:

(MAG118) ELIAS: Your mother. MARTIN: [BREATHES SHARPLY] ELIAS: She’s always been… “difficult”, hasn’t she? You take care of her for years, feed her, clean up after her and now, with her condition degrading even further, she is the one that asked to move into a home, to have it left to the nurses! She is the one that refuses your visits. MARTIN: Sh– she’s always been– ELIAS: Strong-willed? Stubborn? No. No, Martin; you know the reason. Your mother… simply hates you. You just don’t know why! It’s not your fault. Though I know that isn’t any consolation, it’s just bad luck, really. How old were you when your father left? Eight? Nine? When you mother began to sicken and he decided he was done with you both. Not old enough to remember him with any great clarity, especially when your mother refused to keep any pictures of him. She never recovered from that betrayal. He just tore her heart right out!, and took it with him. The thing is, though, Martin: if you ever do want to know exactly what your father looked like… all you have to do~ is look in a mirror~ MARTIN: [HEAVY BREATHING] ELIAS: The resemblance is quite uncanny: the face of the man she hates, who destroyed her life, watching over her; feeding her; cleaning her; looking down on her with such pity– MARTIN: [RAGGED] Shut! Up! ELIAS: Do you want to know what she sees when she looks a you? [STATIC INTENSIFIES] MARTIN: [STRANGLED BREATHING AND CRIES] [FOR LONG] [LONG] [STRANGLED SOBS] [STATIC FADES OUT] ELIAS: Don’t. burn. any more. statements.

(MAG120) ELIAS: Hello, inspector. Martin. I’m… sorry to hear about Tim. MARTIN: Don’t. ELIAS: And Daisy, I suppose. MARTIN: Don’t. you. dare. ELIAS: I suppose it’s some consolation Basira made it out. And Jon – more or less.

(Season 4 Trailer) MARTIN: We really need you, Jon. Everything’s… It’s bad. I–I don’t know how much longer we can do this. We– … I need you. A–and… I know that you’re not… [PAUSE] I–I know th–there’s no way to… [PAUSE] But we need you. Jon. Jon, please, just… Please. If–if there’s anything left in you that can still… see us, or–or some power that you’ve still got, or–or, or something, anything – please! … Please… [SHAKY BREATHING, STRANGLED VOICE] I… I can’t…

(MAG123) ARCHIVIST: You were attacked. … When? BASIRA: About two months ago. It was… it was The Flesh. ARCHIVIST: [MUTTERING] Oh god. BASIRA: Yeah, it was bad. We took them all out. Melanie did most of them. She was… she got a knife from somewhere and– ARCHIVIST: Basira, I… I don’t know if that’s a good sign…? BASIRA: … She saved my life, Jon. She saved all of us. I won’t forget that. ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] Fine… Fine. Haven’t seen Martin about yet? BASIRA: Yeah, he comes and goes. He’s busy. Well, he seems it. ARCHIVIST: Working for Peter Lukas. BASIRA: Don’t be too hard on him, Jon. Your, er… “situation”, it hit him. Hard.

(MAG134) PETER: Martin, this is what we agreed. After The Flesh attacked, you came to me. MARTIN: [SIGH]

(MAG127) BASIRA: … It was a few months back. After the attack. He’d started spending time with Lukas. At least, he said he was. And I wanted answers. He kept telling me to trust him, to hear the guy out even though he still wouldn’t actually show his face. I told him he could… drop me an email or vanish me. ARCHIVIST: … Right. BASIRA: Honestly, I kind of regret not just… grabbing Martin and shaking an explanation out of him. But I didn’t want to push it. He was in a… bad place, what with the attack and his mom and everything, so I didn’t press it. Now, I try and bring it up, he just… disappears. Nothing to be done. ARCHIVIST: So–sorry, you said… What happened with his mother? BASIRA: Oh, yeah. She died. About two months– ARCHIVIST: Oh… BASIRA: –after you, er… … Martin was… … He tried to stay strong. Keep it together but, that sort of thing… ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] BASIRA: [SIGH] Then those Flesh things busted in, and well, here we are! ARCHIVIST: … God. BASIRA: He didn’t tell you? ARCHIVIST: No…

(MAG129) ARCHIVIST: I, er… I heard about your mother. MARTIN: … Yeah. ARCHIVIST: I am… so sorry. [SILENCE] MARTIN: Thank you. [INHALE] It’s… [SHAKY EXHALE] It’s better, this way. ARCHIVIST: If–if you do need to talk, I– MARTIN: I can’t. ARCHIVIST: No. No, o–of course.

And ;; I know that there is probably not enough time left for this? But I still crave for Martin to actually talk about his feelings on what happened after MAG119 – having to bear with the knowledge that his mother hated him, learning about Tim’s death, witnessing Jon’s coma, seeing his mother die, all in the span of two months… Elias had already preyed on Jon and the assistants by binding them without their knowledge, by trapping Jon with a god he had never wanted or known about in the first place; but it feels even worse with Martin, given how he had to deal both with Elias’s actions and Peter’s looming over him, when he was specifically said to be vulnerable, when he was all alone, when he had lost so many people…? I want to hear Martin talk or scream about his feeeeliiiiiings, even if they’re dark and bitter and sad ;___; Let it go, Martin, please…

(- I’mmmm gonna be That Person (too) but I’m stubborn and I refuse to give up entirely on Web!Martin, or at least manipulative!Martin… ;;

I think, genuinely, that he might still be trying to double-cross Peter: not in the sense that Martin will try to get out of it alive, safe and sound (I think he’s absolutely going for a self-sacrifice), but in the sense that he is expecting Peter to have further plans, and is getting ready to pull Peter in the pit together with him as soon as an occasion arises. There has been a pattern in Martin’s way of checking his surroundings which, at least, screams to me that he has noticed how Peter operates, had been getting closer to Peter on purpose, and could be planning to get rid of the new threat just like he did the previous one:

(MAG134) MARTIN: [SIGH] [VERY SHARP SQUEAL OF DISTORTION] MARTIN: So that’s it, is it? PETER: It is!

(MAG138) MARTIN: So… so what? What does it mean? Am I supposed to be reassured that new Entities can be born? That there’s some, some kind of… precedent for The Extinction? … Peter? [SILENCE] Huh. Maybe he has gone to a party.

(MAG144) MARTIN: Statement ends. [CLEARS THROAT] [INHALE, EXHALE] … Right. Another… statement. Another side to… Peter’s “Extinction”. I think. I�� Y– I– [HUFF] I, I couldn’t follow some of his reasoning, but I think it was about… nuclear weapons, or… or maybe doomsday’s weapons…? In keeping with the theme, I suppose. [ARTIFICIALLY AND POINTEDLY] I just wish Peter would spend less time trying to convince me his new power is real, and more time telling me what he plans to do about it…! [SIGH] … And where I fit in. I mean, fine, I guess, I belie– [KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.] MARTIN: [SHORT SHAKY INHALE]

(MAG149) MARTIN: Sort of… surprised Peter hasn’t rocked up with some more… “insights”? Haven’t seen him around for a while, actually. I mean… eh, it’s not like I miss him [CHUCKLING] but, at least he was someone to– [PAUSE] … Ah. [HUFF] [PAPER RUSTLING] Yeah, that makes sense. [EXHALE] A’ight, fine. Just… me on my lonesome for a while, then. … Could be worse. … Peaceful, at least. … I don’t miss all the shouting. [CHUCKLE] Even if it w– [FOOTSTEPS IN THE DISTANCE, COMING CLOSER] MARTIN: … Wait.

(MAG151) MARTIN: You–you know about that? BASIRA: Yeah. Jon found the tapes you made for him– MARTIN: SHH–SHH-SHH!! SHHHHH!!! BASIRA: [LOWER] Found a stash of them a while ago. I made sure he shared with the class. MARTIN: Oh, there you go, then!

(MAG154) MARTIN: Oh, unless… [SIGH] [TWO AGGRESSIVE CLICKS] [TO THE ROOM] Peter! [SILENCE] [INHALE] Look, Peter, I– [DOOR OPENS] ARCHIVIST: Martin! MARTIN: Oh, Jon! [DOOR CLOSES] God, don’t do that!

(MAG156) MARTIN: Another day, another Extinction scare. The more things change, I guess. [LONG SIGH] I just wish [VERY SHARP SQUEAL OF DISTORTION] Peter would finally get round to telling me what we’re meant to be doing about it…! PETER: Then I have– MARTIN: [SURPRISED YELP] [CHAIR CLATTERING?] PETER: –good news for you!

Martin knows that Peter can be around at any time, listening and spying on him. He panicked when Basira mentioned his tapes, and the fact they still went on with their discussion about Martin’s activities behind Peter’s back really wasn’t the smartest thing (what if Peter was spying them, at that moment, and just chose to keep watching without intervening? There is a huge chance that it was the case, and that Peter will throw it into Martin’s face down in the tunnels) – but also… Martin didn’t say anything “new” or compromising in that discussion. If Peter was listening to their exchange, Martin didn’t give him much reason to worry about his loyalty towards him and their project: after the mention of the tapes (which was Basira slipping), Martin only said that he disliked Peter, that he wanted to see their plan through, and acknowledged that he wasn’t planning on coming back (he only inquired about Jon, but… from afar). Same thing when Jon rushed to his office to explain to him about the eye-gouging, to the point that Martin firmly rejected Jon’s offer to elope together, and convinced Jon that Martin had been lost (MAG154: “… The Lonely’s really got you, hasn’t it?” “You know, I think it always did.”). Same with Daisy, in MAG144, which had shown Martin acting cold and biting, absolutely contrasting with MAG142… and the main difference was that, in the latter, Peter hadn’t shown up when Martin had expressed how lost he was and how he wanted to avoid confronting Jon, and that he didn’t care much about Daisy at that point.

I mean, it’s pretty clear that the Lonely “got” Martin, and that some of his ability to reach and be reached was deeply hurt in the process. But at the same time: Martin has understood that directly naming Peter, and snapping about him, tends to make him appear – and it feels so much like baiting Peter out? A way to get him in on Martin’s own terms? So given that he sounds like he’s extremely conscious of being under surveillance, potentially all the time, I’m not ruling out that he has been purposefully voicing some of his opinions in order to get on Peter’s good side. After all, it’s because they had observed Elias’s habits and how his powers operated that they had managed to trap him at the end of season 3; they already got rid of one Head of the Institute by manoeuvring around their weaknesses. So Martin could still be trying to repeat the same miracle, although sacrificing parts of himself in the process…?

As usual, doesn’t mean that it won’t go absolutely wrong but… At the very least, I don’t really see Peter&Martin acting as an absolute and undivided unit right now. Peter wants things from Martin, but the opposite is also true.)

- And so, we’re indeed heading towards Tunnels Stuff and it’s still a Mystery.

(MAG156) PETER: You know the tunnels, under the Institute? MARTIN: Ye–yes, I remember. PETER: Well. There’s something at the centre, a… let’s call it a “device”. Now – our biggest problem with The Extinction is lack of information. We know it’s emerging, but we don’t know how, or where. MARTIN: And this… “device” will help. PETER: Yes…! MARTIN: And I’m going to be the one to use it for you. PETER: I very much hope so. [PAUSE] If you need more time… MARTIN: I don’t. PETER: … Good! Because I was going to say there probably isn’t any. MARTIN: If it’s been down there all this time, how come we haven’t found it? Jon explored the tunnels pretty thoroughly, and Leitner was down there a lot. PETER: It’s very difficult to reach if you don’t know exactly where you’re going. MARTIN: … And you do? PETER: I will.

Helen had mentioned that there is something at their centre; Simon also thought that Peter wanted something specific in the Institute; Smirke had reminded Jonah that they had “constructed” something under Millbank, in the same statement in which he was warning Jonah against “wearing” The Watcher’s Crown…

(MAG152) ARCHIVIST: They could have spread all the way through these tunnels, but they didn’t. They didn’t find Leitner down here, didn’t find… Gertrude’s body. Didn’t find… whatever else is here. HELEN: It is a maze. One of the reasons I like it. ARCHIVIST: Mm. [SILENCE] … I can’t see things properly here. I thought it was just me, something interfering with my connection to The Eye, but… I’m wondering. Maybe it affects everything else. Like this place is some kind of… “universal blind spot”. Everyone gets lost, down here. HELEN: What a fascinating idea. Although… some of us are always lost, in a sense. ARCHIVIST: Wait– Are you saying you can navigate it? HELEN: Not exactly. But my door has been part of these tunnels for some time, now. ARCHIVIST: Wh– [SPLUTTERS] What’s it hiding, wh–what’s in the middle? HELEN: A delightful surprise…! [LAUGHS AND LAUGHS, ECHOING] ARCHIVIST: [SIGH]

(MAG151) SIMON: I don’t know the details. But I believe there’s something in the Institute that he thinks can help his cause. MARTIN: … And he needs me to use it. SIMON: Presumably – from what he said, it must be “powerfully aligned to The Watcher”. If he wishes to use it, it would need someone already touched by The Eye. And if he wants to control that someone… MARTIN: They need to serve The Lonely.

(MAG138, Robert Smirke) “I could not go easy to my grave without offering you one last plea for your restraint. What we built at Millbank should be left well enough alone, resigned to the nightmares of the reprobates and brigands contained within its walls. […] I am not a fool; I know well enough what this dream is likely to mean, and I warn you again that if you have any remaining ambitions to use our work, to try and wear The Watcher’s Crown, you must abandon them! Not simply for the sake of your own soul, but for that of the world!” […] MARTIN: I don’t know what he’s talking about when he mentions Millbank. The old prison, I guess? Tim said the tunnels under the Institute were all that was left of it, but… Jon said he’d checked them pretty thoroughly. [SILENCE] [SIGH] I’m not the one who knows all about this stuff…! I wish– … No. No, it’s fine, I’m… fine, I… [EXHALE] I can do this. I don’t know what Peter’s planning, but my–my guess is that it might involve something below the Institute.

And Martin was already suspecting that Peter was interested in the tunnels. (In the end, was that why Peter had given him Smirke’s letter to Jonah? Martin wasn’t sure why he had been given this one (MAG138: “So… so what? What does it mean? Am I supposed to be reassured that new Entities can be born? That there’s some, some kind of… precedent for The Extinction?”), and ended up assuming it was about Smirke’s typology, but the statement also had mentions of Smirke’s overall work and thought-process, to the point that Martin had nailed down that Peter’s interest probably lay with the tunnels under the Institute. So in the end, rather than proving to Martin that a new Fear could be birthed, maybe the main point of Peter handling Martin this statement was actually the tunnels themselves?

Peter didn’t seem absolutely firm on the word “device”, so I’m guessing that it’s a word which fits-but-doesn’t-really-fit, but what is iiiiit arrrg:

* An architectural structure based on Jeremy Bentham’s panopticon and actually designed by Smirke with Jonah Magnus’s help?

* The Watcher’s Crown, in a literal sense? (The two could be exactly the same thing; “watcher’s crown” could be the name of a structure… But Smirke had also warned Jonah not to “wear” it, so? What would be a thing that you can “wear”, physically or metaphorically speaking…?)

* Something something “crown” and “(an eye’s) corona” having the same root.

* The camera that Salesa had retrieved in MAG141’s statement? (If the tape recorder had clicked on for this statement and not for Jon’s previous four victims, then it means that this one contained something more important to their eyes (… to their plastic gears?); was it only because it was tied to Salesa, a recurring figure until now? Or was it specifically trying to nudge Jon in the direction of the camera?)

* It’s A Metaphor, The “Device” Is Jon Himself (but why specifically in the tunnels, then? Would he need to be afar from The Eye, since Jon was feeling weird down there?)

* The Not!Them? Leitner had reckoned it was trapped in the tunnels, probably not dead… It was powerful enough to rewrite a part of reality (and people’s memory), could it damage The Extinction in the same way…?

* A tomb, à la Schwartzwald, which may or may not have been (re)created thanks to the books Jonah had stolen from Albrecht? The tomb of Jonah himself? (Can’t be Albrecht’s body since Jonathan Fanshawe had burnt it, nor Barnabas’s since Elias said his bones were in his office…)

No idea, I’m mostly guessing that I’ll groan heavily and go “OF COURSE, URK” when it’s revealed. We still don’t know what the tunnels are, why “DIG” guy was feeling something focused on them, why Jon and Daisy felt so off while down there:

(MAG088, Enrique MacMillan) “so here I came. To tell my story, of course, but another thing as well; cold, empty and calling. There’s something here, you see. Something to be dug up, rooted out, buried within. A hollow space that all eyes point towards. And I intend to reach it, if my fingers don’t give out first. I know where to dig.” MARTIN: Uh, um, the, uh, the statement ends rather abruptly there. Based on a few scattered notes and accounts from some of the older staff, it sounds like Mr. Macmillan got in a bit of a fight, which led to his arrest, and the replacement of quite a bit of the floor in Jon’s office. There are still a couple of boards with marks on them that I’d always hoped weren’t fingernail scratches, but I guess…

(MAG120) ELIAS: He catches a glimpse of an advert above his seat: [STATIC INTENSIFIES] “DIG”.

(MAG114) ARCHIVIST: You alright, Daisy? DAISY: [NONCOMMITAL SOUNDS] BASIRA: Don’t think either of us like it down here. ARCHIVIST: Uh, well, no, me neither. Feels… DAISY: Empty. ARCHIVIST: Yeah.

And there is one more thing that’s still a bit weird, related to Martin’s discovery of Gertrude’s body:

(MAG040) ELIAS: Martin finding her body in the tunnels is as much a mystery to me as it is to you.

(MAG040) MARTIN: I wandered for a while. It’s a, it’s a maze down there, Jon. I don’t know how far the passages go. Maybe miles. I think it must be the old Millbank Prison, like Tim was saying before. I even found some stairs at one point, but I really didn’t want to go down them. […] I wanted to get out of there. I was looking for a way up, but it felt more and more like I was trapped. Every turn just led me to another empty corridor. When I finally found a door, I thought it might actually get out, but instead… It was a small room. Square. There was dust on everything. Cardboard boxes were piled around. They were full of old cassette tapes. ARCHIVIST: That’s where you found her? […] Could you find the room again? MARTIN: I don’t know. Maybe. The police certainly expect me to, although I got the feeling they’re not too keen to explore the tunnels either.

(MAG041) ARCHIVIST: This place, it felt more organic in its unpredictability, as though it had been intended to be used, to be travelled, but had gotten twisted somehow. I found spaces that seemed intended as rooms but without doors. Elsewhere, there were doors that seemed simply attached to the walls. Most of these were firmly shut, though some opened to reveal the flat grey stone behind. Only a handful I opened had actual rooms behind them, and in every case I found myself wondering whether that was where Martin had found her. There was no way to tell. Even when the police finally found Gertrude’s body, they took it, chair and all, as well as all the tapes.

“No cobwebs” in Gertrude’s room; the police had some trouble finding her again, Jon wasn’t sure he would be able to, and Leitner didn’t mention anything to imply knowledge of Gertrude’s body being somewhere in the tunnels; and it was still… well-preserved enough for Martin to recognise her on sight? Now that I think about it, is the fact that Martin was somehow able to find Gertrude’s body the main reason why Elias threw him in Peter’s direction…? (Martin said he was terrified, when he was running. Was it “thanks” to his fears that he pushed through…?)

(It’s still so mysterious that, if it’s supposed to be The Eye’s place of ritual, Jon feels that his powers/his connection to The Eye are tampered with in there? If Smirke was aiming for a neutral ground, how did he manage to not make it an Eye stronghold while at the same time constructing something that could use The Eye’s powers?)

This is so exciting, because the tunnels have been part of the story for so long…! The worms had actually been there for a while during the second half of season 1, before they began to pour out when the spider made Jon notice their presence behind the wall (MAG038); it’s where Tim&Jon&Martin briefly took shelter (MAG039), and where the worms attempted to build their portal; it’s where Martin was revealed to have discovered Gertrude’s body (MAG040); Jon began exploring them all through season 2 (starting MAG041); it’s where Not!Sasha ultimately tried to kill him (MAG079) before Leitner stepped in to save him; it’s mostly where Leitner had been hiding for six years (MAG080); it’s where the assistants began to clearly scheme against Elias in season 3 starting with MAG103; it’s how Tim was navigating in and out of the Institute while avoiding everyone (MAG114); it’s where Jon and Basira removed Melanie’s bullet (MAG125); where Helen was revealed to have trapped Jared (MAG131); and Jon has been coming down there recently again (MAG152)… They’ve been with us for so long, it feels a bit surreal to finally (maybe) get more information about what they are, what the intent behind their creation was, and what they could do…?

- Other obvious question is: what is the map Peter intends on getting, and how will he get his hands on it? In order of Least to Most cursed:

* It’s… extremely interesting that we already got a similar configuration with many of the elements that are currently relevant, with The Great Twisting: an expedition to stop an apocalypse, Peter Lukas being there, a map showing the way although the place should be full of deceit:

(MAG101) MICHAEL: Even when they arrived in Dikson, at the edge of the Kara Sea, and they were picked up by a quiet sea captain called Peter Lukas… Even then he trusted her. […] There was a great evil, she said, and Michael was going to help her fight it. […] But Gertrude Robinson had given poor, disposable Michael one more thing before sending him to me. She had given him a map. I couldn’t say how she would have gotten such a thing, or if she somehow made it. And yet it was a map. A map to me. It made no sense, lines overlapping and inverting, but once within, Michael knew which turns to make, which doors to open, which mirrors to shatter. Until he became me.

… and the presence of the Distortion.

We still don’t know how/where Gertrude had obtained that map – if it’s never ever relevant again, I will keep assuming it was a random, inconsequential map (and that what mattered was that Michael Shelley thought it would give him a direction, because he trusted Gertrude), but it’s still an open question at this stage. Interesting things in current events: the Distortion is currently (not) identifying as “Helen”, and Helen Richardson was good with maps, due to her profession (she had been able to draw one for Jon in MAG047); and we don’t know who sent Jared after “the Archivist”/the archival assistants, but the Distortion popped right at that moment to save them, and that event was apparently what led to Martin finally agreeing to collaborate with Peter in exchange for the others’ protection. Given how Michael-the-Distortion had called itself “the throat of delusion incarnate” and how Leitner had mentioned one of his assistants was calling it “esmentiaras” (… “es mentira”/“es mentiroso”?)… there could still be some backstabbing from the Distortion behind Jon’s back, whether it’s for fun or because it’s trying to play all the others, as a revenge against The Eye and The Lonely collaborating to counter The Great Twisting back then…? Or would that be too “coherent” for it…?

* Salesa has many spooky items, and he’s gonna be revealed to be a provider of maps too.

* Leitner’s spooky copy of The Seven Lamps of Architecture, which he had himself used to change the tunnels. Given that Leitner got pipemurder’d, Elias probably got his hands on the book?

* A map done by Tim, because Martin mentioned Leitner and Jon, but we know that Tim had also been navigating through the tunnels, and he was the most familiar with Smirke’s work – something that Martin himself had acknowledged this season in MAG138. (And also: because I miss Tim, and because I’m still so ??? that he has barely been mentioned at all this season, especially compared to how Sasha had been such an open wound in season 3…?)

* Elias had one that had been directly created by Smirke, stored somewhere in the Institute, and either tipped Peter about it, either Peter found it on his own?

* RELATEDLY, I would invite Patreons to reread the Artefact Storage Inventory that was provided as a bonus, because UHM, that first item? sounds absolutely like a miniature/reproduction of the tunnels reflecting what is happening to them?! (Down to the details of the carcasses – the report is dated from the end of 2016 so… after Prentiss’s attack.)

* Peter going to see Jon asking him to “Know” about the tunnels’ architecture, insisting heavily that Martin might die if he gets lost inside of them? (And giving his own statement as a restorative.)

* Adelard Dekker, at last? I still really don’t think that Peter and him were friends, though (/and if someone has killed Adelard, my bet is that Peter was responsible for it).

* Annabelle popping up to provide direction? Tough Peter didn’t seem to be in touch with The Web much (he wasn’t sure why they didn’t have a ritual, and he was wary of Martin having been influenced by ~something~, in MAG134).

* They’re in the tunnels, Martin is snapping snappily at Peter about the lack of direction, rants about the fact that of course, Peter didn’t bring any map in the end, and surprise!Elias pops up in the corridor, “I am Map.” (Martin screams and it’s heartbreaking because he has thrown Elias in prison, only for Elias to reveal that he could come out whenever.)

* You know who was good at finding his way (out)? MAG100’s dinner guy. He comes back to lead the way. With his DOG. Martin gets his feelings back and cries; meanwhile, somewhere in the Archives, Basira shudders and suddenly wants to scream.

- And what fate is supposedly awaiting Martin…? Martin was expecting a self-sacrifice, Peter finally confirmed that it would be in a way that is not lethal:

(MAG126) MARTIN: … When all this is over, I’m telling him everything, with or without your permission. PETER: Martin… when it’s over, you won’t want to. MARTIN: … Mm. PETER: But he will be safe. They all will. MARTIN: … Yeah.

(MAG138) ELIAS: But no. This is too important for me to jeopardise with cheap “mindgames”. I simply have to trust that when the time comes, you’ll make the right choice.

(MAG151) BASIRA: You’re not expecting to come out of this, are you? MARTIN: … I’ll do what I have to. If I’m right… no one else needs to get hurt. [SILENCE] BASIRA: [SIGH] … Okay. You want to do whatever “grand sacrifice” you think is going to save everyone, go ahead. But you’d best be sure you’re not just playing their game. MARTIN: I know what I’m doing. BASIRA: We’ll see. [PAUSE] Don’t make me regret this. MARTIN: Yeah… [PAUSE] Don’t… tell Jon. [SILENCE] Please.

(MAG156) MARTIN: Will I be coming back? PETER: You’re not going to die, if that’s what you’re asking, but… no. If all goes well, you won’t be. MARTIN: [LONG INHALE, EXHALE] PETER: How does that make you feel? MARTIN: … Nothing. [SNORT] Nothing at all…!

What is a thing that could mean “not coming back”…? Is it metaphorical, and related to the idea that Martin would die and not come back as the same (kind of what was expected for Jon between season 3 and season 4)…? Is it physical? And then, what would it mean: that Martin will get sealed in The Lonely together with The Extinction? That he’ll be stuck Beholding it as long as he can, inside of a panopticon? That he would be freed from the Archives in another way, and would be cut off from The Eye? That he would leave with Peter for unknown reasons? … Or is it a bit more bastardly from Peter, and actually related to the fact that he’ll reveal to Martin at the last moment that Martin has to do something terrible to stop it, and that the “not coming back” would be because Martin would be too crushed and ashamed to want to come back…? (Maybe the “right choice” according to Elias doesn’t necessarily mean following Peter’s ideas, as long as they take care of The Extinction?)

On the one hand, we got maaaany signals introducing us to the idea that no, Martin is done for – kinda like we had gotten with Tim, and there was no subversion for Tim, it didn’t prevent Tim from indeed dying just as announced. On the other hand, I really don’t “feel” like we’re absolutely saying goodbye to Martin right now…? But how could Martin “come back” after all of this, indeed, and go back to being an assistant, or close to Jon…? (At the same time, I would be super interested in seeing that!! ;; Martin coming back from his awful experience, and being barely able to communicate with other people without snapping or rejecting them instinctively, and still not being fine around people… but gradually learning to manage a bit again (before the end of season 5 would hit even harder.)). (I also doubt that Jon would keep holding on for very long, if Martin disappears, so it would mean losing our two main leads in one go…? It’s still a possibility, but I’m really not sure.)

The Web has been watching, at the very least, so it could hijack whatever Peter is planning for himself and The Lonely while still slowing down The Extinction if that’s in its interests too… I still like to think that the Spiders have a grudge against Peter for taking Brian, and what better way to get their revenge than to thwart Peter’s plan and/or snatch Martin right under his nose?

37th episode of past seasons: Jon being dead-set on keeping the table that would kill Sasha two episodes later (season 1), Jon listening to Gertrude’s tape labelled “Changeling/Imposter” because Melanie had made him suspicious of Sasha in the previous episode, and beginning to realise that Sasha might have been killed, leading to their confrontation (season 2), the Archives team’s statements/testaments, including Jon’s decision to “trust” them despite it all (season 3), a few days before they would head off towards The Unknowing… So ;; Could be a “breather” before action, could be the beginning of action itself in this one.

MAG157’s title is… very broad? Statement-wise, it obviously screams Corruption, but I’m also reminded of how The Lonely seemed corrosive on the Tundra…? It would also fit for, let’s say, another of the letters describing Jonah Magnus’s activities, I guess (whether it’s nailing down his personality, or whether it’s mostly assumptions). There is also Raymond Fielding that that Web apple…?

It’s the second meaning I’m mostly curious about, because it could be referring to so many things. A place: the Institute or the tunnels themselves? The entities, the Eye in particular? A body filled with eyes (again)? A person meeting that description: and then we would have many to pick from (Jonah Magnus, since it calls back to Jon’s conclusion about his character after MAG127’s statement; Peter; the Lukas family overall; Gertrude; Elias himself, since Jon had snarked about this too in season 3…?)

#1 #2 #3 #4 #5 #mag156 #the magnus archives #tma season 4 #tma liveblog

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pepidefbummie · 6 years ago

Text

Cold Heart [GOT7 Jaebum/JB]

Pairing: Jaebum x Reader

Genre: Fluff, romance

Summary: [Medical AU] [Doctor AU] Cardiothoracic surgeon Im Jaebum is perceived as a cold-hearted person, but the new pediatrician in the building thinks otherwise and slowly melts the icy man [A/N: I do not know much about the medical field, so that would explain anything inaccurate in this story]

Word count: 4,318

Note: p/n = patient’s name

You moved into your new clinic in one of the most prestigious hospitals in the country. Standing at the hallway felt like a dream as you breathed in deeply and looked at the place in awe. The sleepless nights and ugly crying paid off. You watched as kids ran out of the other rooms with their moms holding their hands. A friend and fellow pediatrician walked out of the room and smiled upon seeing you. “Y/n!” the male, Youngjae, waves.

You smile and wave back as he walks towards you, “Hey Youngjae.”

“Congratulations on making it! I’m really proud of you!” he gives you a big hug.

You chuckle as he releases you, “Thank you. Told you we’d both make it.”

“I know, right? Well, I have another patient, but if you need anything, don’t be afraid to contact me!” Youngjae beams before jogging back to his clinic room.

You stand there, a huge grin still plastered on your face, but you shook it off as you needed to get your coat from the on-call room. You turned on your heel to quickly and bumped straight into another person. Stumbling backwards, you were steadied by hands grabbing your wrist. Thankful for that you smile, “Oh, I’m sorry.”

The person, however, was not sharing your smile. He had a scowl on his face as if you just made his day the worst. With an annoyed tone in his voice, he lets go of your wrist and says, “Be careful. You’re in a hospital.”

You blink a few times before nodding. “Ok, thank you anyway.”

The man is a doctor just like you. He doesn’t say anything else and instead shifts his glare forward and walks away, hands shoved into his coat’s pockets. You let out a silent “pfft” before navigating your way to the on-call room. There, you get your coat and finally put it on, ready to take on whatever the hospital throws your way.

The next few days, you manage to see a few patients, and the kids are the most adorable things you’ve ever seen. Granted, some of them wiped boogers on your clinic while others tried to throw your ballpens, but other than that, you were happy enough to make sure that they were healthy. Every time a mother thanked you, you felt proud of yourself.

Today was another day at the hospital, and you were going to see your fourth patient for the day. “Hello there.” you greet the child and their parent.

The mother smiles before explaining the situation, “My son has been having a hard time breathing, but the other pediatricians we’ve visited told us that it could be treated by medicine. We just wanted one more opinion before we take action.”

“I see.” you nod, “Let me do some check-ups and we’ll see what we can do.”

You ask questions while checking the child’s condition, taking notes of whatever you observe. Afterwards, you sit down and hand a paper to the mother. “There definitely is an irregularity in his heartbeat, but it’s not exactly life threatening as of yet. However, I do recommend that you consult a cardio specialist to further gauge the situation.”

“Is there any way we can see one today as well?” the mother asks.

“Hold on for a moment.” you smile before taking the telephone and dialing a receptionist.

“Hello, Dr. y/n. How may I help you?” the receptionist answers.

You respond, “Hi, I was wondering if there were any cardiologists available for consultation today? My patient, p/n, would like to schedule for one.”

“Let me check.” the receptionist says. After a few minutes, she gets back to you. “Dr. Im Jaebum just finished an operation right now and is currently with another patient, but his receptionist has informed him. You may hand over your patient’s records to him.”

“Alright, thank you so much.”

You turn back to the mother. “All other cardiologists are on duty, but Dr. Im Jaebum is willing to take a look at your son’s records.” you say with a smile, “I’ll give him his records, and Dr. Im’s receptionist will contact you when he’s available. Would that be alright?”

“Yes, thank you so much.” the mother bows politely before taking her son’s hand.

After saying goodbye, the two leave, and you prepare the son’s medical records from you and from past pediatricians. The son seemed to have a heart problem that you perceived wouldn’t be cured by just prescribing medicine. While it was your job to treat children, you thought it would be more advisable to transfer him to someone who specialized in the cardio field. You didn’t even know who this Dr. Im Jaebum was, but since he was the only cardiologist available today, you found yourself heading for his office. After knocking, a deep voice from inside the room called for you to come in. But you knew that voice was familiar. Shaking off the thought, you pushed open and quietly went inside with a smile. That smile disappeared almost immediately when you saw who the doctor was. Dr. Im was the man you bumped a few days ago. The rather rude one, you thought to yourself. “Oh.” he says rather deadpan, “I remember you.”

There was another doctor in the room; he seemed liked he was talking to Jaebum before you came in. “You’re the newest pediatrician here, right?” the other male offers you a smile.

“Yes.” you nod your head, suddenly shy.

Jaebum doesn’t look up from the papers on his desk as he says, “She was also rather lost on her first day.”

A blush creeps on your cheeks just as the other doctor chuckles softly. “It happens to all of us, Jaebum.”

Jaebum lips quirk into a very small smirk before saying, “Only you, Jinyoung.”

Jinyoung shakes his head in amusement before waving at his friend. As he passes you, he pats your back gently and whispers, “Welcome aboard.” sneakily gesturing towards Jaebum, Jinyoung continues, “And don’t be scared of Jaebum, ok?”

He doesn’t let you question his statement as he shuts the door behind you. You stand there, dumbfounded until Jaebum’s deep voice snaps you back, “Are you going to just stand there, or do you need anything? I don’t have all day.”

You sigh and internally roll your eyes before walking closer. “Here are my patient’s records. I don’t think it’s just a simple case that can be treated by medicine.”

Jaebum reads the papers, “Of course it’s a heart problem. Shouldn’t you be equipped with enough knowledge to treat this though?” he says, raising his eyebrow in a rather haughty manner.

You nod before pointing out a few things on the records, “Yes, but these symptoms are beyond my specialty. This is more complicated than basic heart treatments.”

Jaebum leans back on his chair and studies your face, his steel expression sending shivers down your spine. “Fine, I’ll take over for this patient.”

“Thank you, Dr. Im.” you say.

He doesn’t say anything else and instead dismisses you with a nod. You take that as your cue to leave.

Over the next few days, you get used to your schedules, appointments and tasks. Before you know it, you’ve also become friends with the other doctors and nurses there, especially with Dr. Jinyoung and Dr. Jackson, both of which prefer being called just “Jinyoung” or just “Jackson”. Youngjae still sees you, often eating lunch together or resting in the on-call room. You encounter Jaebum from time to time and ask him about the patient you had from before. Because of this, an unspoken agreement of some sort has formed between you wherein Jaebum would update you on the patient’s condition.

Something about Im Jaebum piqued your interest, and no it wasn’t because he was a rather handsome doctor. Yes he was, with his muscular built, defined features and sharp eyes, but he had a commanding and regal aura to him that attracted you. Nurses would often gossip about how hot he was, while other doctors would always mention that making mistakes with Jaebum was akin to a death wish. “Why’s that?” you ask one doctor, Yugyeom.

Yugyeom chuckles before explaining, “Jaebum-hyung’s a really skilled doctor, but he gets really critical when people make mistakes with him, especially when undergoing surgeries.”

“He hates mistakes in surgeries.” Bambam adds.

“Yeah,” Yugyeom nods, “Noona, since you’re kind of new here, you should know that every nurse that falls for Jaebum-hyung ends up heartbroken.”

“Hey,” Youngjae laughs, “Those are just gossip. It’s not true.”

You tilt your head, “Why would people say that though?”

Jinyoung chuckles beside you, “He tends to turn down confessions or never reciprocates feelings. Jaebum is really dedicated to his work as a doctor and thinks that it’s his priority. He takes things very seriously and doesn’t fool around in the hospital. People interpret that as him being cold.”

“Remember when rookie doctors called him ‘Dr. Cold Heart’? It’s funny ‘cause he’s a cardiothoracic surgeon.” Jackson laughs.

“Wow,” you say, “He kind of did scare me the first time we met.”

“You’ll get used to it.” Mark affirms. “Jaebum’s a softie when you get to know him enough.”

Come to think of it, what the other doctors were saying just now seemed true. You observed how some courageous nurse would ask if Jaebum had plans for the night, and he would politely (though sternly) reject the offers. Or the times he’d have a very icy glare when lecturing the assisting surgeons outside the corridors. But there were very rare times you’d see him more relaxed. There was that one time he smiled so gently at a little girl who thanked him for “saving her mom’s life” – probably a successful heart operation. Or the time he was laughing with Jinyoung and Youngjae in the on-call room because of some medical pun made by Jackson and Yugyeom.

And this just piqued your interest even more.

One day, you were walking down the hospital corridor when you saw Jaebum reprimanding a few assistants. You’ve heard the stories of how scary he could get, and when you heard his raised voice, you clutched your clipboard tighter. With a gulp and wavering courage, you walked closer and firmly spoke up. “Excuse me, Dr. Im?”

The assistants being reprimanded turned to you with thankful eyes, but Jaebum was just as exasperated to see you. “What is it?” he snaps.

You sigh and gesture to the clipboard in your hands, “I need to speak to you about something.”

Jaebum rubs his temples before dismissing the frightened assistants. He opens the door to his office and ushers you inside. Without taking seat, Jaebum sighs and turns to you, eyebrows raised, “This better be urgent, Dr. y/l/n.”

You place the clipboard on his desk and say, “I just needed to give you p/n’s updated records in case you needed it for his check-ups.”

“You could have just given that to my receptionist, you know?” he slumps into his chair.

“Yeah,” you nod, a small yet playful smile on your lips, “but I also wanted to save those poor assistants from your wrath.”

“Very funny.” Jaebum rolls his eyes, “They nearly performed an operation in the wrong way. We nearly lost a patient.”

You feel rather comfortable, standing in front of his desk. “You need to loosen up a bit, you know? You gotta balance it all out.”

Jaebum looks at you like you’ve said the craziest thing he’s ever heard. “And you’re telling me because?”

“You’re not the cold-hearted doctor everyone says you are.” you smile.

Jaebum’s eyes widen the slightest before he looks to his papers, “And how would you know?”

“I’ve seen sides of you that would say otherwise, Dr. Im.” you say in conclusion before bowing and making your way out the door. “I’ve also seen you smile. It suits you.”

With that, you make your leave in order to hide the beating of your heart as you blurted those words. Little did you know that a small smirk graced Jaebum’s lips behind closed doors. “She’s interesting.” he whispers to himself.

Things have been going smoothly, and before you know it, you’ve been working in the hospital for half a year already. Somehow, you and Jaebum start to talk more often, and Jackson can’t shut up about it. Other doctors find it funny (or endearing, rather) when you save Jaebum’s assistants from his fits of anger. There was this one rare occasion when you and Jabeum were the only doctors in the on-call room. “I just want to eat ice cream and sleep and watch dramas and buy food.” you mumbled to no one in particular.

Jaebum, being the only doctor in the room, replied, “Your sugar levels are going to go overboard.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.” you joked. “You’re not a nutritionist anyway.”

“But I am a cardiologist, and sugar levels are important in this field, Dr. y/l/n.” he smirked.

You laughed, “Cardiology does seem interesting.”

Jaebum shrugged, “It is, but it’s also a pain in the ass.”

“Then why’d you choose it?”

“Because the heart basically one of the most vital organs, and I wanted to help those that would have problems with such an important organ in life.” Jaebum answered simply before throwing the question back at you, “And why pediatrics for you?”

With a soft smile, you said, “Because I have a little brother who is 7 and a sister who is a few years younger than me. I don’t like seeing children in difficult situations, so pediatrics was the field for me.”

You don’t notice how Jaebum stared at you with so much admiration in his eyes, or how his smile was the most mesmerizing thing ever. When he stared too long, you asked, “What is it?”

“You have chocolate stains on the side of your lip.” Jaebum smirked, ruining the moment. “Is that from your snack a while ago?”

Your eyes widened and when you did see the stain, your cheeks flared up. “How did that get there?” You stand up and wash yourself at the nearby sink.

“For a doctor, you really are clumsy.” Jaebum teased further.

You scoffed at the male and rolled your eyes, “Geez, Jaebum. I knew that already.”

Jaebum raised an eyebrow at you, his smirk more playful, “Did you just call me Jaebum?”

“Where did you hear that? Who said that?” you glanced everywhere but him as you wiped your face.

Jaebum stood from his seat and moved closer to you until you were cornered by the wall and him. “May I ask what you are doing at this moment, because I don’t think colleagues do this…and I wouldn’t have expected this move from you.”

Jaebum leaned down, whispering beside your ear, “You talk a lot when you’re flustered, don’t you, y/n?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” you leveled his gaze, attempting to look like you were in control.

Jaebum placed a finger finger on your chest, directly where your heart was. “Even without my tools, I can tell that your heart is beating faster than average.”

Without anything to spit back, you swallowed hard and looked down to avoid his piercing stare. He pulled away, looking at his watch. “I have an appointment now, if you’ll excuse me.”

Gathering his coat and phone, Jaebum opened the door and smirked, “Not as cold, huh?”

You stood there, bewildered with what just happened. Did that just really happen? Heaven knows you’d be thinking about this moment on repeat for eternity.

It came to a point that Jaebum had warmed up to you, just as Mark told you. You could tease him, and he would throw something back at you. You’ve started calling him Jaebum instead of Dr. Im, and he’d call you by your first name, much to the dislike of the other female doctors and nurses. In fact, it became the talk of the hospital, if that was possible. There was one female doctor that Jaebum would often be seen smiling with and teasing, and it was you. A lot of the males were saying that it was because Jaebum had a soft spot for you, but others were saying that Jaebum liked you romantically, a miracle they’d never thought would happen. But you shrugged it off. Jaebum interested in you? Nonsense. Though the thought did occur to you, and you would be lying if you didn’t admit that you did have fluttering feelings for this doctor, but you didn’t want to dwell on it. Being a doctor was serious business.

It was afternoon by now, and your patient had just left. You sat there, twirling a pen that was laying on your desk. Looking at your schedule, you ask your receptionist, “Miyeon, wasn’t my little brother supposed to have an appointment today? Like at this time?”

Miyeon shuffles through the papers and nods, just as curious as you, “Yeah, he was. Maybe they’re just running late. Your sister is coming from school right?”

But minutes turned into an hour, and your patient wasn’t in your clinic yet. Your little brother, Siwoo, also had a heart condition, and just like the other little boy from months ago, you had Siwoo transferred to Jaebum. He’d still come to you for a few check-ups since he wanted to see his big sister more. He brought a smile and a feeling of joy whenever he visited. Not seeing him during his appointment was off. You were going to call your sister on the phone when she called you first. “Y/n I’m so sorry.” she sniffs.

“Haewon? What’s the matter?” you ask in worry.

“It’s Siwoo…Siwoo was – we were going to your clinic when he suddenly had a heart failure so he was rushed to the emergency room.” she says, voice frantic and obviously in panic.

“I see.” you reply as calmly as possible, “Where are you now?”

“I was ushered into the waiting room. Oh please! Tell me Siwoo will be ok!” Haewon starts to cry.

You take in a deep breath and speak, “He will.”

Without a second thought, you run towards the emergency building, not worried about the heels you were wearing today. You ask the receptionist for Siwoo’s room number, and once you find out, you continue to run. The doors have already closed and all you can do is stare from outside, a small glass window allowing you to see the operating room. You feel your heart racing as you see the doctors and nurses performing a surgery on the little boy. The supervising doctor happened to be Jaebum, and when he saw you outside, he spoke to the other supervising doctor before going outside to you. He removes his gloves and mask. “Y/n, leave this to us.”

You shake your head, refusing to look at Jaebum and focus on Siwoo’s unconscious figure, “No, I need to make sure he makes it.”

Jaebum grips your shoulders with just enough force to make you look at him. “You’re not even supposed to be here.”

“Jaebum, that’s my brother!” you exclaim, trying to get out of his grasp, “I’m his family!”

Jaebum cups your face, pleading you to look at his sharp eyes, “Please, y/n, trust me. He’ll make it, so please just leave this to us. Stay with your sister in the waiting room.”

He slowly lets go of you before rushing back inside. He asks for a nurse to usher you outside where you are met by you sister.

The time seems to move too slowly for your liking as you drink your coffee in the on-call room. You nervously tap the table. It’s been hours already. Jinyoung tried to convince you to go home with your sister, but you refused to. Youngjae kept you company for a while before giving you some space. You were falling asleep, head on the table when you heard the door slowly open. You looked up to see Jaebum emerge, his scrubs gone and replaced by his usual white coat. His hair was a bit messy, and he looked exhausted. You abruptly stand up from the chair and stare at the male with glassy eyes. “Tell me he’s ok, please.”

“Bad news is that he’ll have to go through another surgery sometime this week. Good news is that the first surgery today was successful. He’s under supervision for now. Your sister is with him in the room.” Jaebum explains.

You don’t stop the tears from escaping your eyes, and you don’t care whether you become a crying mess in front of Jaebum – you let it all out. Everything goes silent when you feel Jaebum slowly wrap his arms around you, enveloping you in a warm embrace. You clutch onto the lapels of his coat, your tears soaking the blue dress shirt he’s wearing inside. “It’s going to be alright, y/n.” he whispers.

All you can do is nod against his chest, unable to notice how he tenderly kisses your forehead.

For the next few days, you visit your little brother in his hospital room as much as you can. Since you still have a duty as a doctor, you squeeze in visits when you don’t have appointments. If your sister can’t watch over Siwoo, you trust Youngjae and even Jackson with watching over the little boy. You tried your best to focus on your job. Whenever a child visited you for an appointment, you’d remember Siwoo and how he just sat in the hospital bed, watching some children’s shows on the tv. Still, you managed to focus on your tasks properly. When the day for Siwoo’s second operation came, you opted to stay in your office. Jaebum made sure that Jinyoung would keep you company just in case you panicked or felt worried.

It was 10:30 when a nurse knocked on your office door. “Dr. y/l/n, Siwoo’s awake and ready to see you.”

You thank the kind nurse and immediately make your way Siwoo’s room. Opening the door, you flash your little brother a big smile. “There’s my baby brother.”

Siwoo grins back, “Noona!”

Jaebum is also there, offering you a small smile, “Siwoo should be fine now. He can be discharged after two days.”

“That’s good.” you sigh, making your way over to Siwoo, “How are you feeling, Siwoo?”

Siwoo smiles and holds up a thumbs-up, “I’m ok. I feel like jumping out of joy!”

“Not for now, Siwoo.” Jaebum smiles, “You’re going to open your stitches, and that’s going to hurt.”

“But I’ll get gummy bears if I behave and just stay in bed?” Siwoo asks innocently.

“Maybe.” Jaebum winks, gently ruffling your little brother’s hair.

Siwoo beams and hugs his stuffed toy, “Dr. Im is the best! Noona, did you know that Dr. Im gave me this cat keychain when I wouldn’t stop crying?”

You chuckle at the two boys and examine the keychain in his hands, “Well, at least you have a souvenir from Dr. Im.”

You glance and grin at Jaebum who shoots back a smile. He sighs and turns to Siwoo, “Well, you should be sleeping now, Siwoo.”

“Ok.” Siwoo smiles happily.

Jaebum opens the door for your younger sister and instructs her on how to watch over Siwoo, and how to call anyone if anything were to happen. You chuckle, turning to your sister and wrapping her in a hug, “Will you be ok here?”

“Mhmm.” Haewon smiles widely.

“Goodnight, Siwoo.” you kiss the top of your brother’s head.

“Goodnight, noona.” Siwoo smiles. “Goodnight, Dr. Im.”

You and Jaebum walk out of the hospital room, but before you could go anywhere, Jaebum quickly holds your hand and leads you straight to his office. “Told you you’d have to trust me.” he playfully states, leaning on his desk.

“I know.” you smile, “Thank you, Jaebum.”

“I’m just doing my job.”

“Still. Thank you.”

Jaebum’s smile turns into a smirk, “He kept calling me your boyfriend when you weren’t in the room. Seems like you’ve been telling him stuff, y/n.”

“I have not.” you blush, “Siwoo just assumed. Kids have innocent and naïve minds, Jaebum.”

He simply chuckles and gestures for you to come closer, to which you comply. Once your standing right in front of him, Jaebum takes your wrist in his hands and pulls you closer. “I wonder if there’s truth to what he said, though. Siwoo doesn’t look like he’d lie.”

You scoff playfully, feeling your stomach turn into knots with how close you are to Jaebum, “Are we really going to talk about this?”

“Your heart’s beating really fast again.” Jaebum smirks, brining his ear to your chest.

Blushing, you squeal, “Jaebum!”

You giggle and playfully swat his chest, but Jaebum takes this opportunity to turn you around so you’re the one against the desk now. His arms snake around your waist, and your hands plant themselves on his broad shoulders. “I think Siwoo likes you though, Dr. Im.”

“That’s good to hear,” Jaebum starts, “but does his older sister, Dr. y/l/n, think the same?”

At this moment, you weren’t sure who made the first move, but the feeling of his lips pressed against yours was certain. His lips move with yours in sync as your heart beats in unison with his. One of his hands plants itself softly on the back of your neck while your fingers find their way into his hair. Pulling away with to catch your breath, you grin up at Jaebum, “I told you that you aren’t as cold-hearted as people say.”

“Maybe,” Jaebum says, a slow smile on his lips, “or maybe you just melted it.”

You never saw Jaebum as cold-hearted, so you never believed it when people told you so. But with Jaebum holding you close to him, looking at you with warm eyes and placing soft kisses on your forehead, you knew for certain that he was anything but cold.

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thecomicsnexus · 6 years ago

Photo

THE INCREDIBLE HULK #344-346 JUNE-AUGUST 1988 BY PETER DAVID, TODD MCFARLANE, ERIK LARSON, BOB WIACEK, JIM SANDERS III AND CHRIS IVY

SYNOPSIS (FROM MARVEL WIKIA)

The military base where gamma bombs are being stored in Yuma, Arizona is suddenly attacked by the Leader's minions Rock and Redeemer. While Redeemer forces himself through the front gate with guns blazing, Rock is sent over top of the base to rain down on them with his malleable rock form.

Not far away, Bruce Banner cradles the sleeping body of his wife in his arms, finally reunited after so much time apart. However, he wonders about how much of a coincidence that she ended up crossing paths with them as they were searching for the gamma bombs. Elsewhere, Clay Quartermain and Rick Jones are seeing a movie so that Bruce and Betty can have some privacy in their stolen SHIELD battle van. They soon begin talking about their plans to inform the world about the gamma bombs that the United States have been stockpiling. Clay explains that the best way to reveal them to the world and pressure the government into disarming the weapons is by stealing one. Unknown to Clay, Rock and Redeemer are currently blasting their way through the soldiers at the Yuma military base to do the very same thing.

Meanwhile, Bruce and Betty are talking about her running away and Bruce learns that she left him a note before she disappeared. She tells him the gist of it, saying that she couldn't live in a marriage with him that is filled with constant dangers and the Hulk. She explains that she is afraid of the fact that her husband cannot express his feelings unless it's through the Hulk. Bruce corrects her, telling her that it's not the fear of expressing emotion, but the fear of them getting out of control. Bruce tells her that he loves her, but that's not enough because the Hulk will always stand between them. Betty has decided that the only thing they can do now is to wait until sunset and confront the Hulk himself. When Bruce warns her that the Hulk is unpredictable, she tells him he always know. She then warns Bruce that if he chooses to walk away from this that she will be out of his life for good. Back at the battle van, Rick and Clay return to discover that Betty and Bruce are nowhere to be found. Noticing that it is almost sundown the two begin searching for the couple before Bruce can change into the Hulk.

While at the Leader's secret hideout, the gamma-spawned genius gloats over his success of his creations, Rock and Redeemer. While the Leader continues his schemes, he is unaware that his actions are being observed by two individuals who are also planning an end to the Hulk. At that moment, sunset has completed itself and Bruce Banner transforms into the Hulk. Hearing that Rick and Clay are coming, Betty plays into the Hulk's pride to convince the creature into taking them someplace private so they can talk. While the couple are leaping away, Rock and Redeemer have finally broken into the holding facility where the gamma bombs are being kept. The Hulk takes Betty to a nearby mountain top to talk. Betty tells him that what she wants is for him, the Hulk, to accept her. Explaining that she has come to terms with the fact that there is a Hulk and will no longer fight it. The Hulk wants nothing to do with the conversation, and Betty pleads with him to let a little of Bruce Banner out to talk. When he is about to take off, she finally caves and admits that she is pregnant with Bruce Banner's child. She then begins to break down, but her words finally get through to the Hulk, who picks Betty up and cradles her in his arms.

The town of Middleton, Arizona is slowly dying now that the major industries have closed up shop. Father Jason McCall tries to encourage his flock to keep the faith. However, he is a man with secrets of his own, as after service he gets a phone call from the local vicar about accounting irregularities for his church. While lawyer Diane Davids is woken up to start her work day. She is suffering an utter lack of motivation as she is sick of representing the people of Middletown. In another part of town, Jess Harrison is ordered by her parents to stop seeing Louis Lambert, as they believe him to be nothing more than a hoodlum. As Jess storms out of the house, her mother asks her father if there is anything interesting in the newspaper. He tells her that there isn't remarking that it must have been a slow news day. Little do they know that the Leader has stopped the press regarding his theft of a gamma bomb from reaching the town, the first part of his attempts to black out the news from this small, unassuming American town.

Meanwhile, on board a stolen SHIELD battle van, Rick Jones and Clay Quartermain are told that Betty is pregnant with Bruce Banner's baby. While Bruce and Rick are happy with the new, Clay can't help but notice that something about the news is bothering Betty. Their attention changes when Clay picks up a radio report about the theft of gamma bombs from the very facility they were planning on attacking themselves. Back in Middletown, an encyclopedia salesman named Burt Horowitz is passing through town. He stops to asks some men burying strange devices on the side of the road what they are working on. However, the men don't know what it is they are buying and assume they are time capsules. As Horowitz continues onward, he is surprised to find that his radio has cut out, as it was working a moment earlier. At that moment, Clay Quartermain uses his SHIELD credentials to get onto the facility, as his defection is not widely known. They are shown the damage done and Bruce is horrified by the sheer number of gamma bombs created by the military. They are then shown footage of Rock and Redeemer's rampage through the facility. Bruce instantly recognizes them as his former Hulkbusters, LaRoquette and Saunders.

At that very moment, Rock and Redeemer are practicing the use of their new powers by testing them out on a Hulk robot. After the robot is trashed, they both ask the Leader when they will be fighting the real thing. The Leader tells them soon and promises to restore them back to normal after the Hulk has been killed. Unknown to Rock and Redeemer though is that the Leader is lying to them. By this time, Bruce and his allies are leaving the decimated military base wondering what their next move will be when suddenly the Leader's recording beings to play over the battle van's com-systems. He warns them that his plan is to detonate a gamma bomb in Middletown at 10 PM that evening. Not willing to accept this as a bluff, Bruce tells Clay to floor it.

Back in Middletown, Jess tells Louis how her parents have forbidden her from seeing him. He tells her that they should just run off together instead and she agrees to go with him. Elsewhere, Burt Horowitz gets a door slammed in his face trying to sell encyclopedias, Diane Davids gets thrown in jail for contempt of court, while Father McCall prays for forgiveness for embezzling money from his church. Soon, Bruce Banner and his allies race into town. When they burst in on the mayor of town to warn him of the gamma bomb, the Leader's has already set into motion events so that anything they say is instantly discredited. They are then ordered to leave town. Along the way, the sun begins to set and Bruce turns into the Hulk. After carrying Rick, Clay and Betty to safety, the Hulk then returns to town to search for the gamma bomb. Clay attempts to warn people, but any attempt is dismissed as hysteria and a prank thanks to fake newscasts created by the Leader. Clay swallows his pride and decides that it might be time to call in SHIELD for help.

The Hulk eventually ends up checking a local warehouse for the bomb. Instead, he finds a recording left by the Leader explaining his entire plan. Suddenly, the Hulk is attacked by Rock and Redeemer. However, despite their enhanced powers, the Hulk's brutality is too much for them and both men are incapacitated. The Leader then appears with the gamma bomb and appears to grow to massive size and overpowers the Hulk. Realizing that this is just the Leader's mental powers, the Hulk claps his hands as hard as he can, the resulting sonic boom deafens the Leader enough to break his concentration. Before the Hulk can fully recover, Rock beats him to the punch and impales him with a jagged piece of his namesake. Satisfied that he has defeated the Hulk, the Leader then teleports away with Rock and Redeemer, leaving 2 hours to go until the bomb detonates. As the Hulk inches toward the bomb to try and disarm it, outside of city limits SHIELD agents arrive on the scene with Nick Fury in tow.

Before they can do anything, and before the Hulk can disarm, the Leader activates his buried force field generators that seals Middletown in an impenetrable dome. Then, the Leader detonates the bomb early, annihilating the entire town in a massive gamma blast, but keeping the devastation and radiation contained within the force field.

Clay Quartermain, Rick Jones and Betty Banner find themselves before the a United States Senate Committee following the explosion of a gamma bomb in Middletown, Arizona. Clay is the first one to stand before the committee and he explains how he went AWOL from SHIELD in order to locate and destroy the gamma bombs that he learned were created by the United States government. Accompanying him on this mission where Rick Jones and Bruce Banner, the latter also known as the Hulk and is also believed to have died. He explains that is why he blew up Gamma Base. When the committee asks if he was under orders from Nick Fury himself, his lawyer tells them that he cannot disclose that information thanks to a non-disclosure agreement. This causes Clay to think back to a moment prior to the destruction of Gamma Base where he had the Hulk contained. The Hulk berated Quartermain on his orders to kill the Hulk and Banner, pointing out that there is nothing different about Quartermain and the Hulk. He thinks about how he called Nick Fury for advice after the fact. Fury wanted to know nothing about what Clay was planning but told him that Quartermain should do exactly what he would do. With his recollection over, Clay decides to answer the question anyway and tells the committee that Fury did not know his plans.

In another room, Rick and Betty Banner are waiting for their turn to stand before the committee. Rick asks Betty how she is feeling since she has just recently revealed that she was pregnant. Betty tearfully tells Rick that she is thinking of aborting the baby. Not knowing what to say, Rick hugs Betty while she cries. Back inside the committee meeting, the councilmen ask Clay why he decided to help Banner. Quartermain explains that Banner helped him regain his humanity, look beyond "acceptable losses" and see the human impact of his activities as an agent of SHIELD. He said that in helping out Bruce Banner he began to remember whom he is supposed to be fighting for. As the outside world listens in via nationwide broadcast, Clay explains that he was the horror created by one gamma bomb when it created the Hulk, he did not want to see that horror get repeated. The committee ask Clay if he was considering entering politics as what he said sounded very much like a campaign speech. While Quartermain is bashful at this idea, the public begins calling for Clay Quartermain to run for President of the United States.

Meanwhile, in the ruins of Middletown, a hazmat crew is going through the rubble. They are shocked when they see a man pull himself out of the rubble. It is the town's priest, Father Jason McCall, who is now green skinned and glowing with gamma radiation. While in New York City, the senate committee is being watched closely by J. Jonah Jameson and the staff of the Daily Bugle. When talk about Clay Quartermain running for President begin making the news rotation, Bugle photographer Peter Parker questions who would vote for him. At that very moment, an on-the-street interview with Peter's wife Mary Jane is conducted and gives her support for Quartermain.

The committee then calls upon Betty Banner to testify before them. They first ask Betty about her relationship with Bruce Banner. She explains that she fell in love with him when he was first hired to develop the gamma bomb for the military. Although she had left him many times over the years she found herself drawn back to him because she did not want the life that her father wanted for her: an arranged marriage with a military man and having children and becoming a frumpy housewife. She explains that she and the Hulk had recently come to an understanding about her relationship with Bruce. However, this was all cut short when the Hulk was caught in the gamma bomb explosion in Middletown. Betty recalls how when the blast went off the force field around the city contained the blast as well as the gamma radiation. She cursed herself and Clay and Rick for trying to try and stop the Leader on their own instead of going immediately to SHIELD for help. When they finally got past the barrier and began exploring the ruins of the town, Betty recalls how they came across a man with green skin who survived the blast. When Betty begins to break down in tears, they call a recess.

News coming out of Middletown is that most of the population were killed however military officials have stated that there were a number of survivors. However, he assures the public that there will be no new Hulks created from the blast and that those who did survive will likely die of radiation poisoning. Rick, Betty, and Clay watch this news report and wonder what will happen next. They are then joined by Nick Fury who asks to speak to Clay in private. Fury explains to Clay that his popularity is so high that it would be political suicide for anyone who might attempt to persecute him. Happy to hear that he won't be punished for what happened, Clay asks what will happen to him next. Fury grabs Quartermain by the ear and tells Fury that he is going to keep him where he can maintain a close watch.

Next, Rick Jones is called to the stand to testify and after cracking wise, he tells the senators that this committee doesn't frighten him given that battles with aliens and robots and being trapped in the Negative Zone are the norm for him. Rick recounts how his carelessness on the day of the gamma bomb test was responsible for Bruce Banner getting caught in the blast and being turned into the Hulk. Rick then goes on to explain that he has remained by the Hulk's side because of the guilt he felt for cursing Bruce to this fate. Rick remained by his side until the Hulk's apparent death in Middletown and that there is nothing left of him. By this time, Betty is at the hospital waiting to get her abortion. Hearing Rick's words from the radio causes her to change her mind and she decides to keep her baby. Rick continues his testimony, explaining that they searched for the Hulk in the remains of Middletown. In the center of town, they found what looked to be the ashes of the Hulk's atomized body. No sooner had they found it was it blown away in the winds.

After he is finished his testimony, Rick goes looking for Betty after he heard that she went to the hospital. Finding her, he is relieved to hear that she didn't go through with her abortion. Betty decided that this child was the only part of Bruce Banner that is left in the world. The committee finishes their investigation and decrees that following what reporters are calling "Gammagate" that all gamma bombs created by the US government will be destroyed. Meanwhile, the survivors of Middletown are being shipped out of town, five all told. The Leader uses his mental powers to subdue the military drivers of the truck taking the survivors out. The Leader gloats over how he succeeded in his plans to create a new race of gamma-irradiated beings and how they will help him foster his new world order.

REVIEW

So I was looking forward to loosing certain characters and this arc is the answer. I hope not to see these Hulkbusters anymore.

The Leader arc is not over, though. Peter David is known for his long-running story lines, so I will have to be patient for a while.

When David started presenting all the different characters in Middletown I thought it was all for a punchline, but they ended up being new characters (Surprise!)

There is also a change of artists in the middle of these issues as I guess, Todd McFarlane was pretty busy at the time (Spider-man, I assume). The result is a bit messy. At Least Erik Larsen is a decent replacement (but only lasted one issue).

I give these issues a score of 7

#todd mcfarlane #erik larsen #the incredible hulk #hulk #1988 #modern age #marvel comics #comics #review #marvel

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a-memory-of · 6 years ago

Text

Ellere Valahan moved inside the inn, shutting the door behind her as she rested her hands on her hips. A rather pleased hum sounded as she took it in. She had been, after all, only sending packages here and had not visited. After catching sight of a familiar head of blonde hair, she cleared her throat as she approached, hoping not to startle him, "Look at you, sugar, under a roof and out of the ruins after all."

Ruran Vas was leaning, one hand propping up his chin as he thumbed through a small journal. A half-empty glass stood off to the side, a straw poking up from the edge. He did give a start, but it was subtle and faded a moment later upon realizing to whom the voice belonged. "O-oh, Ellere--" He straightened, and then nodded, though his eyes turned downward. "Y-yes, this place has...been good for me, I think. What brings you here..?" He could already guess the answer, but it wasn't in him to assume.

She gave a small shrug, knowing he likely had already assumed correct. "You've been scarce, of late. I know you're capable and all, but you also know how I worry. I thought to check on you, and perhaps you could oblige me for some dinner together?"

Ruran blinked, and he nodded quickly. "O-of course, yes." He stood, as was polite, and moved to pull the chair out for her on the opposite side. He glanced toward the bar and met eyes with the proprietress, who was good enough to know when she was needed.

Ellere had to smile at the gesture, but she still shook her head, "I am sorry, dear, you did not have to get up." As she moved to the offered chair, she squeezed his arm to let him know it was appreciated either way, "But thank you for being such a gentleman."

His masked face tilted, followed by a dip of his head and a return to his seat. He set aside the book and finally managed to meet her gaze, if only for a moment. "I apologize," he mumbled, "f-for my absence. I did not mean to make you worry."

She shook her head, "It is all right, sugar, sometimes we all need a little distance. I know it was not your intention. Truth be told, I've kept away from the Bastion myself of late. Good to clear the head sometimes, hm?"

"Yes, certainly. But y-you, as well?" His brows furrowed, head canting. But before he could inquire more, the bartender wove among the tables to deliver a menu for Ellere--she correctly assumed Ruran needed none.

Ellere gave a small thanks to the bartender as she took a menu, scanning it as she spoke, "I think I needed to. You remember how I was that eve you brought me coffee. Perhaps I was being a little selfish, as I think back to it now, but..." she sighed, smiling. "'Tis nothing to worry over, I promise."

Ruran shook his head. "You worked very hard, Ellere, you deserve a break. I know full well how much effort must go into keeping the company feeling fit--as I...am oft times one who required it. Have you...ah, been doing anything else, since then?"

"It felt good to focus on my clinic for a while, in truth," she smiled, glancing up from the menu at him a moment, "Common illness, sprains and the like? A far cry from what I've seen of late at the company." When the bartender returned, she passed the menu back, ordering a glass of house wine and a meal.

Ruran meekly ordered his 'usual'; the woman nodded and went back to tell the cook. He nodded to Ellere, fidgeting a bit. "I can...only imagine. I have done my best the past few sennights to not be reckless. M-most of my work has been research and some scouting, lately."

Ellere chuckled lightly, "Dear, do not get me wrong. I like taking care of the others, of you. But I had to step back and realize how much had happened such a short span." She glanced to the book he had pushed aside. "Is that what I interrupted then? Some research?"

He quickly shook his head at 'interrupted'. "N-no, well--yes. But it was no interruption," his sheepish voice mumbled. He glanced to the small book. "My next venture into Qarn is...a bit more complicated than I anticipated."

With @weepingknight

Ellere rose a brow, more than a little intrigued. "Oh? 'Tis always a surprise to me when that ruin stumps you of all people. Not something even your friend could help with?" She eyed the little stone a moment.

His stone flickered against his chest, and Ruran shook his head. "Ari'doram can only do so much, and it does not wish for me to destroy parts of the temple in the process of my search. The next piece is...hidden away far deeper than your aetheroscope suggests. Winding halls, filled with traps, dedicated to...some sort of king, or priest, or..." He shook his head, putting a finger on the book. "I am not sure. I was hoping this journal could provide some answers."

She leaned on her hand, chin in palm as her eyes flicked to the journal. "Written by another researcher then? I suppose it would not be the first I had ever heard of some person of status to be buried behind such things. Strange the aetheroscope would be so off though... unless something else was interfering."

"I...found it in the labyrinth itself, down one of the halls. I fear this may be all that's left of whoever journeyed down there..." His voice held a frown, and his hand moved to fold over the other arm on the table. "The distance itself is accurate, I believe. But I cannot reach it in a straight line. What little I have explored and mapped for myself, does not seem clear as to which path is the correct one. A maze." The fingers of his bottom hand idly traced irregular patterns on the table.

Ellere hummed, "Ah, I see... and such a thing would warrant preparation. I am grateful you've not decided to jump headfirst. If there is anything I could do to help, you know you need only say the word. It has been some time since our last excursion, hm?"

Ruran nodded, glancing back up to her. "In truth, I do not think this is something I can handle alone." That was saying a lot, coming from him. "It is far too extensive, and impossible for me to know what dangers will be waiting. I intend to take it slow, one path at a time, if I must. Your company is always welcome, b-but as I said, the danger..."

Ellere shrugged her shoulders, "I have become used to danger at this point, considering where I work, hm?" She smiled, dropping her hand back down to the table. "Besides, I trust you. I have little to fear knowing you will be there. I would like to think you and I can handle a dusty, old tomb, maze or no."

"You have far too much confidence in me," his quiet voice dismissed, his head shrinking into his shoulders. "But I would...feel better with you there, I admit. You have always had sound judgment, and being a scholar, you m-may catch some of the clues I might have missed."

She shook her head again, "I think I have just the right about of confidence in you. We shall look after each other, as we always do. I shall see if there is anything I can think of that might help; certainly not the first time us bookish-types have found a maze, I would assume. I'll do some reading." She looked up as the bartender finally returned with their orders. "For now, let us just enjoy, hm?"

His eyes softened at that, and he nodded. The little stone glimmered, but it had otherwise remained quite dim. "I--I would...greatly appreciate it," he managed to reply, just before the bartender approached. "Ah, y-yes, of course. Thank you." His head bowed to the woman as she set their food down.

#ff14 #ffxiv #rp #roleplay #rp logs #Ellere Valahan #Ruran Vas #Memories of the Romantic Doctor

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nightblogofficialbook · 6 years ago

Text

Chapter Three

Also available on the Tapas.io Website, search for Night in the Novels tab!

I don’t know when it was I fell asleep but I must have slept for an entire day because it was already morning again. I turned over, my body feeling heavy but not terrible and my mouth dry and sticky. When I opened my eyes, for a moment I didn’t know where I was. This wasn’t my room. This was too big to be my room. None of my things are here either, and mom would have definitely woken me up before this point.

And then my memory returned, much to my severe disappointment.

I sat up, my hair feeling like a nest on my head, and stretched. That strange tugging sensation made itself known and then grew idle. I sat on the bed for a long while, trying to muster the energy to get up. It was then I noticed a piece of paper sitting in front of my door, having been slid under while I slept probably.

The curiosity worked and I got up to get it, remembering that Rose and Co. still wanted to show me around. I unfolded it.

‘Hey Helen! It’s Rose. I figured you were probably still asleep so we didn’t want to bother you. But I wanted to explain to you briefly how this place works on a day-to-day basis, in case we’re not on break when you wake up. During the weekdays we have a course schedule, and yes, just like school :P Since you’ve never experienced any of this before they want us to have you kinda shadow us for all the classes so you can get some experience, and then when it’s all said and done you’ll be able to pick your own schedule. On the other side of this fold will be all of our schedule and times, and a map if you feel like trying to find us. If not, break periods for us are listed too, so you can just wait in the commons until one of us comes to check on you.’

I blinked. ...Class? Like, school classes? I turned the page over like the note said. A chart was drawn really neatly and concise of each girl’s name and their classes, in order by time. I glanced over at the digital clock on the bedside table. Looks like no one will be back until fifteen minutes from now.

Still feeling...off guard, I got up and went to the bathroom to address the state of my hair. I’ve always been kind of a sleep tosser but I guess last night I really thrashed about. Using the tools already in my bathroom I carefully combed the tangles out of my hair and flattened the morning frizz with a straight iron. The kitty cat pajama tank had my shoulder on full display in the mirror, and for the first time in...I guess only a day, it felt like ages, I was able to see to what extend the damage was.

The bite on my neck was all but gone, only a lingering redness now remained from where that guy, Zain, had bit me. I was amazed at how quickly it was healed, especially for how much I bled.

Ugh, blood.

The brief nausea passed, and I examined the next mark: a now-silver welted crescent scar that sat right between my collarbone and shoulder. I traced it for a moment in shock and a little bit of morbid fascination. It still throbbed a bit, but significantly less. This...was the bite that started this. The one that changed my life. I wonder why it was a crescent and not fang marks, like the other had been? It looked more like someone with human teeth had bit me. I looked closer at it, the shape showing irregularities to it. About where the canines would be on a human bite mark, defined a little more than the rest of the shape, were almost definitely two fang-mark scars set within the rest of the scar.

I shuddered. To bite down with a force that strong...I’m really glad I passed out for that. Maybe that was why I passed out.

After changing into some relaxed day clothes that were available to me I went downstairs to the commons, feeling like I’m on some sort of rich-kid summer camp trip. It was quiet but brightly lit from the sunlight pouring through narrow windows down the rounded walls, the outside just starting to reach the afternoon. Feeling awkward I made my way to the kitchenette area and perused through the cabinets and fridge, looking for something to eat. I opted for snacking on some cheese and saltine crackers, since the rest looked like they belonged to someone or required cooking of some kind, and I didn’t feel comfortable doing that just yet.

The door clicked and in walked Claire, who gave a start of pleasant surprise when she spotted me. “Helen! You’re awake!” She closed the door behind her, smiling. “Good morning! You were out a while, you sleep okay?”

“Yeah,” I replied. “I actually felt pretty rested when I woke up, thanks for letting me sleep.”

“Yeah, cool.” She set her bag down and grabbed the box of goldfish cheese crackers I had passed over from the cabinet. “You get Rose’s letter by chance?”

I nodded. “If I understand right, I’ll be attending classes with you guys?”

“Yeah, it’ll just be for a couple of weeks to help you get used to being in the castle, then you’ll be able to decide what you want to do on your own. Cool thing is, nothing is mandatory.” She grinned, sitting down with the box. “You could just decide you don’t want to go to any of them in the end and chill all day.”

“Wha-really? Then why even bother?”

“Well, a lot of it is still really useful to learn, but mostly because of the perk points.”

“Perk points?”

She nodded, taking a handful of crackers and munching them. “Yeah, you get points based on attendance for class and bonus points for how well you do in them. Vampires get them too. They have a catalog for stuff you get in exchange for them, like new clothes or toys or games or extra snacks.” She shook the box of goldfish. “I like to spend mine on these, though I’m saving up the bulk of them for the excursion trip next spring. We’ll take you to go get your card set up and stuff and you’ll be able to look at the point system, but essentially the more valuable or the less ‘healthy,’” she used air quotes with an eye roll, “an item is, the more points it will cost. And vice versa, the more challenging a class is for you, the more points you get for it.”

“That actually sounds really cool,” I said, amazed.

“I know right? From what I hear about how schools are still done on the outside it’s WAY more awesome.” She glanced at her watch. “Alright, we should probably go head out to my next class, after that all of us have the same dancing class so we’ll trade you off after THAT class, and you’ll have just one more for the day with us.”

My head spun a little, not quite following what she said but I got the jist of it. She grabbed her bag and I followed her through the door into the open hallway of the castle. A fresh breeze drifted from the direction Claire was leading me, and almost as suddenly as we had left the dorm we were outside in open air.

The weather felt wonderful, the deep blue sky spotted with slowly drifting, fluffy clouds, blinking the sunlight in and out every now and then. The temperature was warm and comfortable, not at all like the summer heat it had been for the last month. And there were people. Everywhere. Mostly teens my age, but also adults. Children. I think I even saw a few babies. I was amazed, I never realized how big this place might be. It was like a whole village.

I watched the people pass me by as I followed Claire across the giant square courtyard I had observed just yesterday. Some were having a picnic complete with tablecloth, food, and family. Some were, like us, walking towards a destination in mind, and some were just playing games. It was how I always imagined a college campus would look like, all it was missing was the drunk frat boys and dumb shenanigans.

A wonder crossed my mind after we crossed the courtyard and into a different section of the castle. “Where are the vampires?” I asked.

“They’re asleep, they usually keep to a night habit like the myths used to say. But not all of them,” she added as a young guy with red eyes waved as he passed us, flashing a friendly-fanged smile. Claire waved back with a “hey Greg.”

“But for the most part they do vampire classes at night anyway,” she continued as we stepped into a classroom. “And usually in the other half of the castle. It helps keep traffic in the halls down so things don’t ever get overcrowded and stressful, and to keep some from getting too stressed out by the abundance of human smells.”

We sat down at desks and I was surprised about how...normal it was. It was just a math class, same as the one I failed a few days ago, only this teacher seemed pretty enthused. She talked over the coursework with passion, answering any questions that were asked and even re-explained some things in an easier to digest manner. I found I was able to follow along really well despite having to jump in the middle of a learning section.

Claire, on the other hand, looked like she was struggling to keep up, and hard. She was bent over her practice worksheet, looking relaxed but frustrated. I thought about asking her why she was taking the class if it was that hard on her, but then remembered how she explained the points, and her goal. I silently nodded to myself at the ingenious system they have here. It was a good way to motivate everyone to have a goal, and work towards it, but without forcing anyone to overstress about it.

And hour and a half had come and gone since we sat down, and class was dismissed. Claire stretched and groaned as we walked out.

“Man, I am so not good at math,” she said.

“Me neither, but that teacher was really good.”

“I know right? They don’t let anyone teach if they’re not up for the task. Anyway, I forgot about lunch between now and the next class, and…” she suddenly looked as if she was having an epiphany. “Oh yeah lunch! Dude!” She grabbed my shoulders excitedly. “You gotta see the food court they have here!”

My eyes widened and her excitement rubbed off. “They have a food court?”

…

They have a food court.

And it was incredible.

IMMEDIATELY, once I walked to the vicinity of its existence, I was hit by a myriad of delicious freshly cooked food smells. I’m talking bakeries, skillet cooks, sandwich bars, BBQ, breakfast food, lunch, italian, asian, and everything in between. I could hardly believe my eyes. I could hardly believe my nose. It was like there was a food festival going on.

Claire grinned at my expression. “Pretty cool, huh?” she nudged me.

“Claire…” I said, flabbergasted still. “Oh my god. I want to cry.” She laughed and took my hand, taking me to all of the booths and mini restaurant bars. Each one seemed to know her on a personal level, and, as she explained that I was new, free sample after free sample began to fill my tray.

“This is so much food,” I said in amazement.

“Yeah, I’ll be honest, I’m kinda pimping you out,” she admitted sheepishly as we headed for a table. “Normally you’re only allowed up to 2 free servings per mealtime, and any more is a point exchange.”

“Well, it worked,” I said, still incredulous. “Glad to be of help.”

“Helen! Claire! Over here!”

Rose was flagging us down; the twins and Wendy were already seated with her, in addition to a few people I haven’t met yet. We joined them at the table.

“Helen, this is Mike and this is Jason, they’re childhood friends of ours. Guys, this is Helen.”

Mike, who had short black hair and a shallow jawline and fair skin, gave a polite wave. Jason, who was far less reserved with bronzy-blonde hair, brown eyes, and a fairly strong jaw and nose, gave me a friendly lopsided smile and a look of interest.

“Um, hi,” I said nervously, sitting down next to Claire with my huge tray of food.

“Introductions later, it’s food time,” Claire said, excitedly picking out a sample from our haul.

I tasted as much as the food as I could, and shared the rest. Everyone chatted about their day so far and classes they were in and I politely listened, feeling a little happy. No, that’s not right. I was feeling a lot of happy. Everything was bright, and light, and friendly. Everyone was open and relaxed and feeling good. The tension I had been holding in my shoulders released.

And then suddenly something hot and soupy was dumped over the top of my head and into my lap. Claire leapt out of the way to avoid the splash, everyone else jumped in shock. I sat still, trying to process why there was suddenly chicken broth all over me.

“Oops,” spoke girl’s bored voice. Everyone’s eyes widened when they saw who stood behind me. I turned around.

She stood to be roughly my height with dark blonde hair pulled back in a bun, her blue eyes piercing cold and her expression haughty. She very clearly was holding an empty bowl, still over my head. I blinked.

“Sorry,” she said in the most uncaring manner possible. “Sometimes I don’t quite pay attention to where I’m going and things just…” Her eyes grew cold and vicious, reminding very much of Zain’s, and with a jolt I recognized her. “...happen, you see. But, I’m sure YOU, of all people, would understand, wouldn’t you Helen?”

“Hey, look, I-”

“Well,” she interrupted, ignoring me and addressing the entourage of people who were snickering behind her. “I supposed I should try to get more soup. I do hope they understand the little accident.”

“Oh, of course, Lady Victoria!”

“It was an accident after all.”

“I’m sure they’ll understand.”

“You can have mine, M’lady, if they can’t make an exception!”

“Thanks, guys,” she cooed to her little group as they left. “You’re the best.”

I sat there, dumbfounded, as they walked away, and turned back forward.

“...what just happened to me?”

“You got souped apparently,” Claire chimed, to which Rose reprimanded her.

“Don’t worry, we’ll help you get cleaned up, we can skip the next class if we need to,” Rose offered. I shook my head.

“It’s okay, I’ll just go get cleaned up and meet you guys there,” I said, my voice surprisingly normal considering I was drenched.

Claire looked at me in surprise. “You sure?”

I nodded. “Yeah, I have a map, and I’m surprisingly good with directions.” Except apparently when I’m in a hurry, I thought blandly to myself.

“If you’re certain…” Rose said, uncertain. “The next class is on the same floor, in the east ward across from this one. There’s four doors to enter from so it shouldn’t be hard to find as long as you make it to the right section.”

I thanked her and stood up, saying bye to Mark and Jason. They offered words of encouragement and good luck with cleaning up. Pulling out the map(which miraculously avoided getting souped as well) and going by what I remembered seeing on the way here I traced my way back to the dorms. Everyone I passed stared and muttered to themselves, some with pity, some with wonder. I couldn’t blame them for it, since I’d probably end up doing the same thing, and did my best to ignore it.

After a successful shower and change of clothes, it was now four o’clock, about fifteen minutes past when that class was supposed to start. I made my way across the courtyard to the ward across from the lunch area, now wishing I had eaten maybe just a little bit more and debating on whether I should even show up. The sun was in the second half of the sky, and by now majority of everyone out and about had gone back to wherever their own dorms were. It was crazy how many people actually live here.

I found the four doors Rose was talking about and heard music inside. Confused, I looked at the written schedule she had given. “No…” I opened the door, suddenly remembering with dread a small detail Claire had mentioned before.

Inside was a very large convention-style room, chairs stacked high against the wall. A large amount of people were scattered out in pairs, observing the teacher as he demonstrated what almost looked like a waltz with no partner.

Dancing. Great, just great...my stomach dropped, and as it did the subtle pulling sensation heightened.

The door slammed shut behind me before I could catch it and suddenly all eyes were on me. I flinched, feeling extremely embarrassed. “Sorry…”

“Not at all!” the teacher enthused. “Come in, come in! You must be Miss Morris.”

I sheepishly made my way to the edge of the wall out of the way but still in view, suddenly very aware of the fact that about 50% of the pairs of eyes still on me were red. I swallowed nervously.

“Alright, now I want everyone to try, on my count. Remember, you’re not looking for speed, you’re looking for precision. Make every move count until it becomes second nature. Now, one-two-three, one-two-three…” he flicked a finger in the air and suddenly music was playing.

I watched everyone try the steps, spotting the girls pretty quickly as they were having the most fun. Rose was paired up with Jason from before, Suzanne and Alice had decided to dance with each other -which made their synchronization so perfect it was almost creepy- and Claire was dancing with Wendy. Feet were stepped on, laughter was heard, partners were bumped into, it was an amusing scene. I smiled a little to myself, wishing I could join them.

I let my gaze wander around as the teacher also wandered amongst the dancers, giving form advice and praise as he passed them. I was amazed at how many vampires were here, considering it wasn’t really after dark just yet. Most were paired up with their own kind, but some had paired up with humans, a little to my surprise. And it looked like everyone was having fun.

“Hello Helen,” the teacher’s voice drew my attention to him; he had made his way over to where I stood, quietly addressing me. “May I call you that?” he asked sincerely.

“Sure?” I replied. He was pretty young looking for someone in charge of teaching a class, I would guess maybe super early twenties. His eyes were a deep hazel that seemed to change colors under different light angles, from blue to green to brown, and somehow all of the colors. His skin was fair and soft, his hair a short sandy brown that reminded me of some popular british actor I remember people fawning over. He was pretty attractive for sure, but something was strangely familiar about him.

“Excellent.” He looked relieved. “Allow me to introduce myself; my name is Dmitri. Some of my students call me ‘D’ but whether that be your preference to refer to me is entirely up to you.”

“Thanks, it’s nice to meet you.”

“And likewise you. Now, I understand that you are quite new to the castle, and that today is your first day during your adjustment period, so by all means don’t feel obligated to join right away if you don’t feel comfortable. We have a bit of an odd number currently so there would be no problems if you wish to sit out for now. But, if you do wish to join in, I would have no problems getting you up to speed.”

“U-um, thanks,” I replied, grateful for the extended invitation and surprised at how quickly he seemed to understand. “I think I’ll pass this time around...since there’s an odd number and all.”

He chuckled a little. “Not too fond of dancing?”

I grimaced. “How did you know?”

“I have been teaching dance for quite a while now, I can tell. I imagine you feel your skills are quite inadequate to even attempt the practice.”

“That’s an understatement,” I joked, feeling strangely relaxed around him. “My mom tried to get me into dancing for a while. I accidently broke the instructors foot once.” He laughed softly and I smiled a little. “She politely requested that I try out other hobbies after that.”

He looked outward, observing the dancing pairs in front of us. “Well, I won’t force you if you truly don’t want to dance, but if you ever feel interested, I would gladly be up for the challenge.”

He went back out to address a couple that had fallen over, helping them to their feet and explaining to them what had gone wrong. I smiled a little, feeling a little fuzzy inside, like I just gained a big brother. Dmitri seemed really sweet. The pessimism in my brain made me really hope he didn’t turn out to just have been flirting with an underage girl though. It didn’t seem that way, but...I’ve been wrong about people before.

Suddenly there was a strangely violent tug in the pit of my gut towards a single direction in the room. I looked up in surprise, holding my sides despite the fact that there really wasn’t an obvious origin to this sensation, and stiffened. One couple was dancing through the sea of everyone like wind through trees, effortlessly making every single person in this room look like stumbling baby deer. Their legs moved with practiced elegance, as easy as if it were breathing, their eyes almost bored and in another world. Zain and Victoria.

My stomach clenched with guilt and a twinge of jealousy. They looked good together. Perfect for eachother, I thought bitterly, remembering Zain’s childish aggression and Victoria’s stunt from today. Their skills looked matched, and though they seemed bored in this classroom environment, they looked relaxed. Comfortable.

Zain’s eyes darted my way and I looked down instinctively, my heart pounding for a moment, and then felt bitterness replace my emotions. It should have been her. I shouldn’t have ever been involved. Why did I end up at that clearing? Why did he have to bite me?

I heard a quiet tch! and looked up with just my eyes. The two had slowed to a stop, Zain’s face furrowed in frustration.

“What is it?” I heard Victoria ask, worried.

“It’s nothing,” he responded in a low voice.

Her eyes darted to me and I pretended to be watching the other people.

“Is it her?”

He gave her a small smile and stroked her cheek; a sharp pang hit my chest for a moment. “Don’t worry about it, okay?”

She still looked worried. “Okay.” Her eyes narrowed furiously towards me soon as he looked elsewhere. I pretended not to have noticed but I could feel the daggers emanating from her.

“Alright, I think that’ll wrap things up today!” Dmitri called out, clapping his hands. The music fades out and everyone gathered up any bags and things they had brought. He waved his hands and suddenly all of the chairs stacked against the walls unstacked and arranged themselves in the space everyone was just occupying. “Next class we’ll do a few more practice motions, and then try out partner changes. I look forward to seeing you all again.”

“Helen!”

The girls and Jason came over to me excitedly. The fact that I just saw legit magic fell to the back of my mind as I smiled a little at them.

“You made it!” Rose exclaimed. “We saw you talking to Dmitri, what did you think?”

“Dancing...really isn’t my thing,” I admitted carefully. “I’ve never been very good with the whole foot-body coordination thing.”

“She actually meant about D,” Claire snickered.

“I was talking about the class too,” Rose blushed slightly.

I thought for a moment. “He seems...pretty nice I guess. I mean, I just met him, at least I’ve gotten to know you guys for a bit.”

“Yeah, D is pretty chill,” Jason commented as we walked out of the room. I felt that elastic cord-feeling tug at me again and glanced back a moment, distracted by seeing Zain and Dmitri talking. Victoria wasn’t anywhere, I guess she had already left. The sight of the two felt vaguely familiar again, though.

“And take it from me,” Claire continue to speak, and I realized I had missed part of the conversation. “Dmitri is a SUPER good guy. He’s actually the one I told you about that saved me from my stupid aunt and uncle.”

“Wait what?” I asked, confused. “I thought you said that it was a vampire who took you.”

“Yeah, that was Dmitri,” she said. “It was his first time travelling with the embassy he said, I think.”

I looked back, but we had already gone out of sight, and then tried to collect my thoughts. “But...he...his eyes were…?”

“Ohhhhh right right right, I forgot about that,” Claire clapped in realization. “Yeah, vampires don’t ACTUALLY have red eyes, they just turn that color when they’re stressed out. Something something biology makes them turn red but they actually have fairly normal eye colors, for the most part.”

“It has to do with the way cortisol affects their system,” Alice spoke up. “They’re pretty human-based to begin with, so there's a lot of similarities, but there’s a chemical in their irises that causes it to glow red with the presence of stress hormones.”

“It used to be because they were always stressed when hungry,” Claire added. “That’s why it’s a pretty common addition to the myth. Also pretty scary.”

“But now it’s just because they have anxiety like the rest of us,” Suzanne finished.

“But...everyone’s eyes are red?”

“Well yeah, duh,” Claire smirked amusedly. “The heir and leader of their home was supposed to be bonded with a chosen Bride to solidify their strengths and safety, but something happened and word has spread that some rando is now the Bride.”

“They feel their future is uncertain,” Rose explained gently. “Humans, too. No one knows anything about you or what benefit or detriment you might bring.”

Jason stopped. “Hold on, wait…” He stared at me, his expression stiff. “You’re the…?”

“Oh shoot,” Rose swore. “I didn’t want to say anything yet, I’m sorry Jason.”

“It’s okay, I just…” he shook his head. “Damn…”

“U-um,” I started awkwardly. “Is that bad?”

“No, I just didn’t want it to be spread around just yet,” Rose admitted sheepishly. “I wanted to make sure you were comfortable first. I figured it would be awkward for you if everyone suddenly tried to avoid you and address you as ‘Lady’ and ‘ma’am’ and so on.”

“Do you...want to be addressed that way?” Jason asked nervously.

“Oh, god no,” I assured him quickly, and remembered Dmitri asking if my name was okay. “Please, Helen is just fine.”

He relaxed, relieved. “Lady Victoria all but demands everyone refer to her as Lady Victoria.”

“I’m definitely not doing that,” I grumbled. “Not after what she did today. I mean, I understand where’s she coming from but…”

They glanced at each other with worry, and I could tell they had something to say but didn’t want to say it.

I sighed. “Anyway, about Dmitri and the vampire eye thing.”

“Right,” Claire shuffled. “Um, that was probably it, honestly. Vampire’s look like people except when they’re stressed.”

“And they’re all scared of me,” I joked a little. They laughed a bit.

“Give it a few weeks,” Rose assured. “Everyone will have calmed down again. Your arrival shouldn’t effect Lord Zain’s ability to run the castle.”

“That reminds me,” I said, “how does age work for vampires? He looks like he’s our age. And Dmitri looked pretty young, too.”

“They’re about how they appear to be,” Rose explained. “Lord Zain is seventeen I think, Dmitri is...twenty-five?” My eyebrows lifted. “The ones who are born will age the same way humans do, just a little bit slower.”

“They stop aging when they reach about Dmitri’s age,” Alice chimed “At that point the body just doesn’t need to grow anymore.”

“And then they live foreeeeeever,” Claire added dramatically.

“Except the ones who are made,” Suzanne said sadly. “They’re stuck at whatever age they turned. Their bodies freeze in time, but their mind will continue to deteriorate.”

I swallowed. “So then...are most vampires born?”

“Mostly. Accidents can...happen though,” Rose admitted.

“That’s why they don’t let vampires do any biting,” Claire said. “The ones that turn usually have this weird desire to create more vampires, which would be a problem, and you have to basically drink vampire blood and die in order to turn, so keeping them away during feeding times prevents that.”

“Will...will I ever be turned?”

“Bride are a little different,” Rose responded this time. “You’d have to want to turn in order for it to work, because of the mutual agreement the bond creates between human and vampire, otherwise you’d probably just...die. And you’d be different than a turned vampire, because your partner would still be able to feed from you.”

“It’s not really a necessary procedure,” Alice added, “so I don’t think you’ll have to worry about that.”

My head spun. This was a lot of information to process. “Wait, one more question, if vampires live forever, what about the human Brides?”

“You’ll live forever too,” Alice answered simply. “It would be bad if their only food source died of old age. It’s part of the changes that now allow you to choose to become a vampire if you wanted it.”

“Yeah, it’s kinda like you’re half vampire!” Claire joked, and my chest tightened. Half vampire...I put my hand on my shoulder again where the bite mark still twinged every now and then.

Everyone split up at the edge of the center courtyard, Claire and twins heading back to the dorm, Jason heading back to his, and Rose going to her class. I was scheduled to follow Wendy next.

“This way,” she spoke, her voice soft and quiet like a whisper.

I followed, feeling awkward as I realized that this was probably the first time I’ve heard her speak. She was extremely reserved and somewhat nervous, every so often fidgeting with her fingers and not looking up anywhere. I wasn’t sure if it was because of me or if she was just...like that. I sympathized though. Up till now it was easy to borrow off of everyone’s energies to relax and adjust. The presence of her anxiety, though, kind of kept mine at bay.

“So, we’re going to...whoa, Horse Care and Management, whaaat?” I tried to give a friendly smile. “There are horses here??”

She nodded. “Yeah. They’re very gentle creatures, and understanding. I like them.”

I stared off in the distance with a small grin as we walked down an open stone hallway and away from the castle, feeling just a little excited now all on my own. I had never been on a horse, or near one for that matter. Wendy’s cheeks swelled as she smiled, and it seemed like she relaxed a little more. The stables came into view as we rounded the corner and the stone floors turned into a dirt path. The smell of fresh barnhouse and hay wafted through the air, growing bolder as we got closer.

Not many people showed up for this class, it seemed. In fact, as far as I could tell at least, it was mostly vampires here. A girl no older than us was currently setting out harnesses and saddles, wearing heavy duty working gloves and clothing, with a red bandana around her neck and a wide straw sun hat. She greeted us when we approached, then beamed at Wendy.

“Hey! Good afternoon, glad ya guys can make it!” She gave a wide grin. “Looks like some newcomers today, Welcome! I’m Amber, I’m kinda second-in-command runnin’ the stables here with my ma and her sisters, I’ll be teaching ya guys all about horses!”

“Last week I got most of ya introduced to the residents here, so today we’re gonna learn the proper ways to clean the equipment. It’s easy enough, but ya gotta do it right or the leather will get too hard, or just not clean at all. And if you don’t clean it well, ‘specially the reins and the bit, you can get the horses sick and we don’ want that.” She went through the proper techniques for getting started and had everyone start a piece of equipment. “Newbies follow me for a sec,” she called out, and to my surprise I wasn’t the only new person.

“Hey,” a young vampire guy, eyes still red, greeted me shyly after we followed Amber and then were told to wait. “You new to this class too?”

“Uh, yeah,” I responded, feeling just a tad awkward.

He smiled forward nervously as we waited for Amber to come back, running a hand across the back of his neck. He looked a bit older than me, his skin dark and his body pretty lanky and tall. Like, a whole-head-taller-than-me tall.

“I’ve never even been around one of these things before,” he admitted after a few seconds of silence.

“Me neither,” I said, deciding to try and make small talk at least. “I’ve always wanted to though, they looked pretty cool.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, and then stuck his hand out. “I’m Adrian, by the way.”

“Helen,” I replied automatically, shaking his hand.

“Helen huh,” he laughed nervously. “That funny, I think that’s the same name as that girl from outside the castle.

“Yeah,” I responded nervously, unsure whether to say anything about that. “Pretty...pretty interesting.”

Luckily Amber had already come back, leading a tall chestnut color horse. It had a white kite shape mark that spanned from it’s forehead down to its nose.

“This is Bitey,” Rose said, and Adrian stiffened next to me. “Don’t let the name fool ya, he used to be chomper when he was little but he’s quite behaved now. C’mon over and say hello!”

We both hesitated for just a moment, and then I stepped forward, feeling a little excited. The horse’s ears swiveled my way as I came up to it from the side, and he turned his head towards me.

“Hold yer hand out, fingers down,” Rose instructed gently. Behind me Adrian watched carefully as I did as told. The horse balked back a little, and then stretched out to sniff my hand. After a few seconds I reached forward to pet its muzzle. Adrian let out a breath of relief behind me.

“Now, horses are very sensitive animals, they can pick up on yer feelings pretty quick,” she said as Adrian worked up enough courage to come up beside me to also pet the horse. “They can be pretty skittish themselves, so it’s very important that ya introduce yourself properly.”

She had us step away after a moment of petting to demonstrate. “Ya always want to try and approach from a diagonal and make sure they can see ya. Cuz if ya watch him,” she stood at a severe angle from the back, “see his ears? They’re swiveled back cuz he knows I’m back here but he can’t see me. And if walk closer now,” she did, and he stepped away from her. “he’ll back up. It’s pretty nerve-wracking to have someone come up from where you don’t see em. That’s why it’s also a good idea to make sure you talk to em too. That way they can hear you and you don’t sneak up on em. NEVER sneak up on a horse unless you wanna get kicked in the teeth.”

Amber continued to explain how to approach and be around horses, how to present yourself, what to do if a horse charges at you, and had us practice approaching conduct correctly with Bitey. The whole time Adrian was very nervous, which I found just a little funny, all things considered; he could probably and easily take this animal down. It was a little alarming even. But then again...I hadn’t actually seen any proof that vampires have super strength or anything, I’ve just sort of assumed. A small spark of guilt set in my chest as I realized that...they really might be just like humans. Just people with different survival needs.

After a bit more practice she then had us rejoin the rest of the class to learn how to clean the tack, giving us the bit and saddle that Bitey had on. I went back to Wendy, who smiled at me and looked very relaxed and content. She was already drying off her piece of tack and had a couple bottles of some sort of leather oil.

The last half of the class was spent learning how to properly dry and oil the leather to help preserve its reliability, and just as the sun began to set everything was wrapped up and put away. I walked back with Wendy feeling strangely accomplished.

“That was...really cool!” I exclaimed with elation. Wendy nodded, smiling happily and quietly. “Like, never did I ever even think I would get to do something like that, not without paying a LOT of money.”

“It’s my favorite class,” she smiled quietly. “The horses really understand.”

I nodded, and remembered the vampire I had pet Bitey with, Adrian, and remembered how nervous he seemed but also how friendly. The horse wasn’t afraid of him, and prey animals are usually good at sensing predators. I thought about Dmitri, who I had no idea was a vampire, who wanted to make sure I felt comfortable with where I was. I thought about everyone I had met today, unable to help but compare it to how my life was before and how the people I had to deal with before. Against my inner denial about this whole situation, this...didn’t seem so bad so far. This actually felt...better.

We made it back to the dorms uninterrupted and I told everyone I was going to go ahead and turn in for the night, feeling exhausted. The gibbous moon had risen high enough already to cast some light in my darkened room, but I turned on a lamp anyway. The ambient lighting combined felt cozy and warm, but my room still felt too big, too open. Absentmindedly I walked to the window and opened it, then realized it had a balcony and climbed out onto it.

The night was pleasantly crisp for summertime. The sky was clear and bright as the moon’s light was cast down upon the world. Out ahead of me lay a sea of trees, and just beyond that were islands of houses. Neighborhoods. If I stared hard enough, I could almost spot the neighborhood I live in. Lived in. I breathed in and let out a sigh as I leaned against the railing, my mind debating with itself.

I shouldn’t be here. I should be at home. I should be helping mom get dinner ready, calling Emily to help her with homework. Sleeping in our run-down cozy house. Dealing with the same idiots entering the same society as me. I’m already starting to forget I’ve been kidnapped; this sense of open freedom is wrong, it’s a lie.

I looked down. It was only two, maybe three stories between here and the ground, and maybe only fifty meters between the castle and the surrounding wall. I could sneak away. I could do the bedsheet thing, anchor to the railing and then try to latch it to the decorations that topped the wall. I could go home, and try to ignore everything, pretend it was all just a bad dream.

Something lurched in my center, violently yanking at some core within me in an up-and-backwards direction. It was almost painful except for the fact that it didn’t feel real, didn’t feel tangible. I grabbed the railing to brace and support myself, my lips pressed tight in bitterness. That sensation continued to pull at me, almost like it was begging me to follow it. To follow it back to the one who bit me.

There would be no escaping that. There’s no undoing it, it would always be there. Following me, everywhere I go, no matter how far I would go. And he could probably follow it back to me. They’d find me, maybe even hurt my mom, maybe even go after Emily, and they would bring me back.

I sunk to my knees on the balcony, leaning my forehead against the railing as tears slowly filled my eyes and rolled down my cheeks. I had fun today. Today hadn’t been bad at all. Sure, I got soup dumped on me, but that was just one incident. Everyone was nice. I wasn’t caged, I wasn’t supervised. I was even allowed to make my way back to the dorms, all on my own. It was only the second day since I arrived. I could have gone somewhere else entirely. But I didn’t. Because being here today has been better than any other day in my entire life. I didn’t want to be here. But I wanted to be here.

“What’s wrong with me…?” I whispered out loud.

I don’t remember ever going back inside, but when I woke up I was in my bed. It was still dark out, the clock read just past 1 a.m. I sat up, still in the clothes I had changed into. I tucked my knees to my chest and sat there for a moment. My cheeks were sticky where my tears had dried.

The strange tugging sensation gave a nudge, not as violently as earlier, but subtly. As if giving me a suggestion. Without really thinking about it, I got up and went downstairs into the commons area, letting the tug pull me forward.

It was quiet in the room; plug-in lights with motion sensors lit up as I got closer to them, making the room have a strange dream-like glow. The girls were all still upstairs, sound asleep. The fridge in the kitchenette area kicked on with a hum for a few seconds before quieting down again. I paused like this for a little while, absorbing the atmosphere. Observing it. And then let my body be pulled forward again and out the door.

The halls were dim and quiet too. The carpet was soft but firm underneath my feet, muffling the noises of the world. I continued forward, my mind still in an almost fugue-like state. I didn’t care where I was going. I didn’t care where this pulling sensation would take me. None of it mattered anyway. Nothing I did would matter.

I came to the courtyard hub area that we crossed to get to the different areas of the human quarters, the Day wing, where classes usually occur. No one was here, but yet I could feel them here. The presence of people, the sounds echoed like the ghosts of a past memory occurring presently. I looked around and could almost see them. There wasn’t anyone here.

I felt a presence, a real presence, land behind me, and the direction of the tugging shifted and changed. I didn’t turn around or react, already knowing who and what it was but feeling nothing.

“Why are you here?” I heard his voice speak. It was soft, curious, and sad. A wave of somber confusion washed across me, but not my own. I turned around.

Zain stood right where he had landed, facing me. His eyes were firm but gentle, his expression matched the feelings in his voice. His hair shimmered in the moonlight, his red eyes glowing softly. He wasn’t angry, he wasn’t frustrated or resentful. Just...lost. Sad and lost, and looking for answers.

“I followed my heart,” I replied.

He looked on in confusion, observing me, his eyes searching. His heart searching. It felt like I could see it, his heart, reflected in his eyes.

“Why are you here?” he asked again after a moment, differently.

Tears welled up in my eyes. “I don’t know,” I answered softly. “I don’t know…”

His expression changed into a look of helpless anguish. “Why are we here?” he asked again.

And then my eyes opened.

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sunlitroom · 7 years ago

Text

Gotham – s4e13 – Reunion

As I watched it, and some random observations here and there.

Previously on Gotham:

Barbara wore an upsetting flesh-coloured headband. Jim searched for the Doc. Sometimes we search for things we really don’t want to find. Sofia likes being queen! And she has new ways to hurt Jim! Harvey tells Jim he wants to feel clean. You’ll need a water cannon to get the muck off Jim, Harvey. Ed gloated, but Oswald claimed ‘you’re’ still there! Ivy’s changed. Lazarus water does things! Bruce has a party boy breakdown.

As always, long post will be long. There are likely to be rambling digressions. Gobblepot might appear (although I welcome all shippers and non-shippers alike :)). There will be naked favouritism and naked not-favouritism. Broader comments at the end on plotlines and parallels and general direction.

At stately Wayne Manor, Bruce is opening the case that contains his proto-Batman suit. He looks at it for a long moment, removes the mask, and throws it on the fire. Overall, It’s been a very symbolic couple of days for him. He needs to ease up a bit. Do some light housework, a bit of reading. Maybe bake something.

Harvey’s bar in the Narrows, where a man is eating a pickle very loudly. Ivy enters, and regards him with some disgust. Is it because they’re a kind of plant, or because he’s gross, or did whatever Ivy did to herself leave her senses a little heightened, maybe?

It’s hard to say whether it’s the light or the help of some Clairol, but Ivy’s hair is looking slightly redder.

She’s looking for Harvey. The cute barman says he’s not working today, but she can leave a message. Ivy says she will – she’ll use them to leave a message, all their flesh and blood and what they’ll become. She blows pollen onto them from a flower she was carrying.

(An aside. Based on what we’ve seen of her so far, Ivy is virtually the most dangerous person in the city. She kills indiscriminately, and seems completely without empathy or remorse)

At Sofia’s mansion, Lee is looking at a framed photograph of her and Mario. Lee is wearing fingerless opera gloves. That’s…definitely a style choice. I wonder if Lee’s move towards a deliberate and out-of-the-ordinary aesthetic signals a definite move from the move conventional heroic side of things to the more villainous side of the board, which is all about aesthetic.

Sofia says that still Lee is still her sister, even with Mario gone. Given that she murdered her dad, this doesn’t bode well for Lee.

Lee smiles and says that’s nice – but clearly not why she was invited. Sofia smiles back and tells her that while she owns the city, the Narrows never bent the knee. With this kind of phrasing, and Lee’s fur collar, it’s all gone a bit Game of Thrones. Lee tells her that the Narrows has never bent the knee – but Sofia replies that there’s never been anyone like her.

She wants the Narrows under her thumb – in the form of a 30% tax on all income. Lee tells her that the people there live hand to mouth, and will never be able to afford this – they’ll starve. Sofia smiles coldly, and tells her that they all have to make sacrifices, and she wants an answer by the end of the day.

Lee gets up. She offers to kiss the ring, if that’s what Sofia needs – because the 30% tax is impossible. Sofia tells her she’ll find a way. Lee remarks that she thought she was all about family. Sofia stares at her

I never said it was a happy family

At a diner in the Narrows, Alfred reads a paper. Bruce walks in – but Alfred avoids eyecontact. Bruce thanks him for agreeing to meet, but Alfred remains grumpy. He tries to talk to him about the annual foundation dinner, but Alfred is snappish

What exactly is it you want from me?

Bruce asks for his help to figure things out – he can’t do this alone. Alfred refuses. He tells Bruce he can’t just waltz in here and expect him to go back to washing his smalls and cooking his dinner. Bruce tells him he’s changed – but Alfred says there’s a difference between showing and telling. If he shows him, then he’ll reconsider.

Bruce asks how he can do that – but Alfred says that’s for him to figure out. Oh, fuck off, Alfred.

Bruce pleads – and says he’s asking him as a friend, but Alfred says he’s not his friend – he was his butler, and he fired him. He leaves, telling the waitress that Bruce will pay for the tea. Bruce looks lost.

(An aside. I’m sure I was supposed to see this as tough love, or something – but Alfred just seemed like a dick. Bruce is basically a big pile of trauma in lanky teenage form, he doesn’t need weird passive-aggressive sulking. Also – bad writing strikes in that Bruce nearly died a couple of days ago – and knowing that just makes whatever Alfred is doing here look worse.)

Presumably upstairs at Cherry’s, a desperate and dishevelled Ed is rifling through bottles of pill. Nearby, leaning against a wall, BadEd wonders aloud what Lee and Sofia’s meeting is about. He asks if Ed doesn’t wonder, Lee being the love of his life and all.

Ed impatiently tells him that he and Lee are friends. BadEd looks him over dismissively, and tells him that

The cuckoo pills won't keep me away

Ed replies that they might not – but they can stop him killing lee. Walking over to a small table, we see a pile of letters, including the one Oswald wrote last week. Ed opens it, and reads sections out incredulously.

He wants…..Can we be friends? I’ll never forgive him!

Bad Ed reads the letter over his shoulder and smiles snakily.

I think it’s a nice letter

He poses a riddle to Ed

What has two eyes but can’t see?

Ed stares at him, panicked. BadEd laughs.

Back at Harvey’s bar, where the worst investigation of a killer toxin/plant thing is taking place. Seriously, why don’t they just all make a salad out of it at this point and get stuck in? No gloves, no masks…..

Jim enters, and asks Lucius where Harvey is – Lucius tells him that he wasn’t here, and Jim helpfully reiterates what the show reminded us of last week – Harvey shot Ivy’s father. They head off.

Jim and a team of cops break into Harvey’s apartment. They see Harvey sort of spread-eagled on the couch in. One of the cops regretfully comments that they’re too late, but Jim shakes his head, and walks towards him – this is just how Harvey sleeps. Jim wakes him up – because apparently the door being bust open didn’t do that

An irate Harvey asks what the hell is going on, and tells him someone will be paying for that door. Jim tells him Ivy attacked the bar. Harvey asks about the bartender, Donny, by name. Jim says he’s sorry, and tells him that they have to think he was the target – since he shot Ivy’s dad. Harvey angrily tells him that he only shot Ivy’s dad to save Jim’s hide

So don't put this on me

Jim, nettled, responds equally angrily

I’m not putting it on you

(An aside – he’s easily nettled because he has guilt brewing about how Harvey fared due to the whole Pyg fiasco, taking shame and humiliation that rightfully belonged to Jim. At least – I hope he has guilt brewing)

They’re interrupted by a news report, which claims disturbing footage will follow. It’s Ivy, filming herself.

Plants love us. They give us food, shelter – the air we breathe. What do we do in return? Kill them. That's our nature. That's you. We cause pain. Everyone I've ever known hurt and betrayed me. I’ve always known in my heart what I need to do. I’m giving the city back to the plants - starting with the people who hurt me

(An aside - that's basically everyone – Ivy’s sensitive to slights, and also doesn’t really seem to like humans in general.)

Harvey looks worried

Starting with me

(An aside – Ivy’s improved since last week, when her entire rationale was ‘you hurt plants!’ Now that she’s referring back to her past and experiences, we get something else. She hates the whole city. It failed her – we got to see, specifically, how it failed her: watching her end up on the streets. She’ll show no compassion, because she feels she was shown none. She’s a good example of the city reaping what it sows – pun not intended)

As the news report is still playing, Jim and Harvey spot a sign in the background for an eatery they recognise, and manage to pin Ivy’s location. Jim wants to take Harvey to the precinct, but he refuses to hide – he feels responsible. Jim offers his badge, and Harvey angrily refuses. He has more contacts in the Narrows than any of them. He storms out, but then returns quickly – because he forgot to put on trousers.

Lee and Ed somewhere at Cherry’s. They’re talking and drinking. Lee is telling Ed about the meeting. She says it makes no sense: Sofia knows there no money here, Lee offered to bend the knee, Sofia was deliberately asking for something she knew Lee couldn’t give. She wants to punish her.

Ed asks why – but Lee says she doesn’t know. Ed tells her you can’t fight an enemy whose motivations you don't understand

(An aside – I wonder if this remark will become significant again later? Feels a bit like it will)

We cut away, and see Ed has hired the Baker Street Irregulars. He offers them a full set of encyclopedias minus T if they can find out why Sofia wants to punish Lee. They look unimpressed. He throws in 20 dollars, and they leap up.

Go get 'em

A police team breaks into Ivy's lair of plants and discarded sequinned evening gowns. As Jim looks around, he hears a voice.

Selina is sitting on the windowsill

What’re you gonna do?

Jim does what he does best – other than snarling and grabbing – and gets angrily judgy.

She killed four more people – and you knew where she was staying. If you’d told me, we could have saved their lives.

Oh shut up Jim. Go contemplate your own trail of dead.

Selina’s having none of him.

Or not. You couldn't stop her from hypnotising all your cops

Jim asks why she came. Because Selina doesn’t casually dehumanise and discard people, Jim? Even when they’re behaving in ways she doesn’t like or understand?

Selina says she wants to try to reason with her. Jim sneers and says she’s a fanatic – but Selina retorts that she’s her friend. Jim looks at her for a moment, and tells her that if she contacts her, then to call him, and he’ll try and bring her in quietly – otherwise, she should stay out of the way.

At that point, his phone rings. It’s Harvey with a lead.

Harvey is in a big basement? Warehouse? I dunno. There’s lots of barrels.

Harvey tells Jim that Ivy has been hiring muscle. As he says this, Ivy strolls in.

She’s beautiful, don't you think, Jim?

He points his gun at Jim. Ivy tells Jim to drop his weapon.

Poor Ed is sitting on his bed, breathing heavily, in some discomfort. He has his head in his hands.

(An aside – looking round, he's assembled a tidy bedroom like a cross between his apartment and lab. He’s really good at using found stuff and making it look nice. He should totally do this instead of crime – just like Jervis and party planning)

Bad Ed tells him he doesn’t look good, and that he is exceeding recommended dose. He picks up a pill bottle and starts rhyming off side-effects:

Trembling, cognitive impairment – still, how would you know?

He laughs, and Ed tells him to shut up

Bad Ed says he’s only getting stronger

Ed tells him that he won’t let him take over kill Lee. Bad Ed replies that he probably will.

(An aside - But why? They’ve really never made this clear. The implication before was that he would kill Lee because she was Ed’s last anchor to a sense of his better self. If he takes over completely, then what purpose would killing Lee after this point serve?)

Bad Ed smirks, and tells him the only way to get rid of him is to kill himself

Ed looks momentarily still as he looks at him

Well – I guess you're smarter than me

Bad Ed stares

You wouldn’t

Ed gains back a little power over him as he replies

Oh yeah

(An aside. I’m not sure to which extent I’m supposed to feel this – but I just find all this pretty desperately sad. We’ve seen since the early days that Ed fears BadEd, that he’s bullied and belittled by him. He’s trying as best he can here to maintain some control over his sense of self, and keep safe someone who has become dear to him. He’s constantly tired and agitated, and now unwell due to what seems like overuse/misuse of medication. The brief moment of calm he has at the thought of suicide just broke me.)

Back with Jim and Harvey. Ivy asks if Jim believes in fate – she went looking for Harvey, and he found her instead. Then she realised she could make him deliver Jim too.

Jim tells Harvey that she’s controlling him. Harvey answers.

I kinda like it - sweet surrender

Jim has a brief foray into compassion

You need help Ivy - let me find Selina. She wants to help you.

Ivy brushes this off and leaves. She tosses over her should that she has big plans, and tells Harvey to kill his partner, then shoot himself in the head.

Harvey aims at Jim, telling him not to try and talk his way out of it. Jim tries to distract him

Is Ivy's hair more auburn or scarlet?

Harvey mulls this, and Jim runs. They run about the warehouse, Jim taunting Harvey to get him to use up his bullets. Harvey is sore about Jim stealing his job. Jim says it was never really his and then lists his screw-ups. Harvey shoots repeatedly, angry, and Jim is able to evade him until he’s out of bullets, and knock him out.

Sirens. Bruce is looking for Selina’s help. She tells him he’s an ass and that she’s busy. He should go find Alfred. Bruce looks unsettled. Light dawns

You did, and he wanted nothing to do with you

She advises him to apologise to Alfred – whatever happened, she’s sure it was his fault. She leaves.

At Cherry’s, Lee and Ed sit opposite each other at a small table. Ed gives Lee the information he’s found - according to his spies - Sofia and Jim have been carrying on an affair

So, technically, your ex has been sleeping with your dead husband's mafiosa sister.

Funniest line in the episode – narrowly followed by the speed with which Lee responds

Yeah - ok Ed I get it

She starts to hypothesise

If Sofia’s sleeping with the Captain of GCPD it’s a power play, and one that failed, if I’m her next step. Maybe I should just just give her what she wants - power over Jim.

Ed is startled.

You would do that?

She seems pretty unmoved, and very sincere.

I’m not trying to get back at Jim, though he deserves it. My job is to make sure the people of the Narrows are safe and I will do everything in my power to ensure that.

Ed looks her in the eyes. He’s completely, totally smitten. I’m not exactly sure how CMS does that ten emotions all at once thing with his eyes, but it’s genuinely amazing. Seriously.

She smiles back at him

What?

Lee – I...

He looks away from her

I… I have to leave

He exits, and Lee stares after him.

(An aside - Lee didn’t look entirely oblivious, there – nor did she seem unreceptive. I don’t think the notion of her having feelings for Ed is outside the realms of possibility. If she’s not entertained the idea already, then she’s not outright rejecting it.)

Harvey comes round at the precinct. Jim asks if he can remember anything. Harvey says Ivy was talking about people who get rich by murdering plants. Jim remembers that she seemed to have been trying on ‘fancy clothes and shoes’ at her lair. Don’t hide your light under a bushel with those vague terms, Jim – we all remember those stunning 60s cocktail dresses your subconscious put Barbara in. You should set up a business on the side.

Jim instructs officers to ring around – try to find what fancy event is on that Ivy might be trying to crash. Eventually they figure out – the Wayne Foundation charity event. Jim tells them to assemble a strike force. Before he leaves, Harvey talks to him

Hey Jim. I spent too long putting it all on you. What happened – I’ve only got myself to blame

Not really, Harvey. But anyway.

Jim looks at him and ... still fails to own up. He says he’ll call, and leaves.

At the gala, we briefly see a photograph of Bruce’s parents. Are we ever going to hear more about Martha? Thomas is mentioned frequently, but they barely discuss Martha.

Still in his black polo neck of angst, Bruce takes to the stage. The lettering spelling out ‘Wayne Foundation’ is awful. It’s all uneven. And I don’t really think much of the ambience of the room, either. They should have hired Jervis on some day release from Arkham to arrange this. Woeful.

We see Alfred enter the room, as does Bruce, which makes him stumble over his speech. He changes what’s on the cards. He says his parents spent their lives helping people. He was proud of them and wanted them to be proud of him. He saw them murdered, but survived because someone in his life kept him going. He was everything to him: teacher, protector, and father. He hopes he can see that, and give him another chance.

Vaguely shocked applause

Bruce walks to Alfred. Alfred thanks him, and says that meant a great deal. But he then annoyingly and confusingly tells him that he can’t tell him, not until he accepts who he really is. Oh no – here it comes – ‘darkness’ chat again. Bruce needs to embrace that, apparently – but not really, because his heart and compassion are his strengths. He needs to accept altruism and darkness but it’s something he must do on his own. This is terribly confusing, Alfred. Go buy a parenting book from Amazon or something. Jeezy Creezy. No wonder Bruce ends up dressing like a giant bat.

Bruce looks let down and angry

I was stupid for reaching out

He walks away. And who can blame him?

Ivy now takes to the stage

That was quite a speech. I’m Ivy Pepper.

Panicked murmuring ensues. At least if Jervis had arranged this, you’d probably have had some really lovely hors d’oeuvres by now. And probably special folded napkins.

Ivy tells them to stay seated and her thugs chain the doors. Alfred runs.

Some empty space somewhere in Cherry’s. BadEd is ranting and enraged. We see Ed standing at a staircase with a noose in his hand

BadEd tells him he can’t do this – but Ed tells him it was his idea. BadEd tries to play for time

Ok fine - you win - you beat me. Is that what you want to hear?

Ed tiredly tells him that’s very nice, but he still has to do this.

BadEd is desperate.

Wait – there’s a way to do this where nobody gets hurt!

Ed flatly says he doesn't believe him. But BadEd insists – there’s a way to save Lee without killing himself.

Or us

I'm listening.

Back at the function - Ivy comments on the beautiful crimson flowers and tells a man he’s handsome before murdering him.

Bruce is walking away from the room as Jim runs towards it with his strike force. He asks Bruce if Ivy is in there. Bruce doesn’t think so – but the they hear ruckus, and Jim advances

There’s weeping and panic, and we see the man’s corpse flowering. Ivy looks blissed out by this, and says she’s going to turn this room into a gorgeous garden. Alfred tries to attack – but is knocked out. Ivy looks down at him

A volunteer

The strike force bursts the door open and Jim tells the thugs to drop their guns

Ivy strolls away, telling her men to kill everyone.

(An aside - What is Ivy wearing? Ivy – you are not Blanche Devereaux, and you do not have whatever it is that is required to convincingly wear sequinned palazzo pants.)

Bruce looks in at the chaos. Stealing a mask, he saves Alfred, who was about to be killed. He tells him that he’s getting him out of here. Alfred stops him though – telling him people need his help, and this is who he is. Bruce looks at him, masks himself again, and runs off.

(An aside. I kind of feel this is the problem with rushing the Batman thing along too fast. Bruce still really reads as a child. He’s tall. He has a deep voice. But he’s not an adult yet. We’ve just seen him indulging in a specifically teenage style of self-destructiveness. As such, telling him to endanger himself like this just comes off as cruel.)

Somewhere else in the building, Bruce watches from shadows, and then takes out a thug. Jim comes upon this. He yells at Bruce to drop it and, like, immediately shoots him. He might as well have yelled drop it afterwards. Wtf? Isn’t there a recognised way to do this where you don’t just immediately shoot the person? He did the same with Krank in the alley.

Bruce is fortunately wearing something bulletproof, gets up, and runs to the roof. No fucking wonder. Even if he did try to explain, Jim might just shoot him again before he can inhale and start talking. Jim chases him to the rooftop, but Bruce is gone.

Ivy’s lair. She removes the police tape that has been thrown over her plants. I’ve accidentally killed both of those specific plants in the past. One of them, a type of Calathea, is called a prayer plant – because it folds its leaves together at night, like hands in prayer. Ivy rifles through the mess and finds what she’s after - a tiny black bag.

Hear the news? Crazy Ivy Pepper attacks Wayne Foundation Dinner

It’s Selina. Ivy tells her it didn't turn out as hoped. Selina affects mock-surprise

What – you didn't get to kill everyone in there? You got out -you always were a survivor

She looks at her hands

What's in the bag?

It’s the little bag of life and death.

Nah – it’s the last of the Lazarus water.

Selina nods

So you can make more plants to kill people? Yeah - ain't gonna happen

Ivy asks if she’s going to stop her. Remind her of the old days. Tell her she’s not this person. Selina tells her they’re past words and uses her whip to trap her wrist and send the bottle hurtling away.

Ivy sneers – Selina Kyle turns out to be the hero. Selina tells her

I'm no hero

They fight. Ivy reminds her that one scratch is all it takes, and no antidote this time. Selina evades her. Ivy tells her she can’t run – but Selina was picking up the bottle. She threatens to drop it. Ivy asks her to stop – tells her she’ll let her leave. Selina mocks her generosity. She drops the bottle and puts her foot on it, not breaking it - yet.

No! How can you side with them - all the people who hurt us? You think they're innocent, they're guilty. Every person in this city – they spew out poison. How are you not choking on it?

Selina says the only thing she’s choking on is Ivy’s insanity. She breaks the bottle. Ivy screams and wraps her hands round Selina’s neck.

You shouldn't have done that. You're going to die.

Selina maintains eye contact but tells her to look down. She has a knife at Ivy’s gut.

Ivy asks her what what happens now. Do they kill each other? Selina tells her that’s an option. Ivy starts to strop a little

You always thought you were better than me

Selina replies

We were friends

Ivy says that was a long time ago, and she’s a different person now. Selina tells her that this isn’t what she wants and drops the knife. It’s a statement of trust - really, that Ivy still has a better nature somewhere, and she hasn’t altogether given up on that. Ivy tightens the grip at her throat, but tells her not to get in her way again, before dropping her hands and leaving. Selina watches her go.

The Narrows, where Sofia is meeting with Lee.

(An aside – wouldn’t she want Butch there? I know he can’t be, to facilitate what comes next, but even a nod to explain away his absence would be nice.)

Sofia sits down, placing her handbag demurely on the table before her. It’s a classic one with a clasp closure.

Lee says she has something more valuable to offer than what Sofia asked for. This turns out to be Jim.

(An aside – Lee is clever, but this is a misstep. You see Sofia’s eyes widen minutely – she doesn’t like the reminder that she might be losing her grip on him)

Lee says she knows about his other crimes. Sofia says she has her own dirt – but Lee tells her that she must need more, or she wouldn’t be threatening her. She smiles, confident, and tells Sofia to take her deal. And now the misstep is way more obvious. Sofia is quietly livid at the notion of someone seeing her slip up in any way. Her face hardens, and she tells Lee she has a better way to bring Jim to heel.

Sofia’s men shoot Lee’s guards. Lee tries to save one, and tells Sofia she’ll never get out of there alive. Sofia sneers

Your people. Who do think planted the guns?

Samson enters, and tells Lee she should have killed him. She really should have. Sofia tells Lee Samson runs the Narrows now, and points out that Lee’s failure to kill him told her everything she needed to know.

She had her men pin Lee down, and place her hand forcibly on the table. She talks out a hammer, and tells her that since she’s family, she’ll only do one hand.

Between covering my eyes and yelling ‘fuck!’ repeatdly, I could see that it was very gory – Sofia slamming the hammer into the back of Lee’s hand, mangling it, as she screamed in pain. When she’s done, she tells them to throw her on the streets and let the Narrows see its queen.

(An aside – I’ve talked about this elsewhere, but I think there’s a specific note of jealousy in Sofia’s actions, as well as her wider business concerns. Lee was loved by Mario and accepted by Carmine. I don’t know how secure Sofia feels of either of those things.)

Jim gets a call telling him about Lee. We get to the hospital and see him gazing through the window at her. A medic approaches and asks if he’s family. Jim looks tired. There’s a long pause before he replies

I'm a cop

The medic tells Jim Lee wouldn’t say who did it. Jim says she didn’t have to.

(An aside. I have to admit – Like Ed, I was surprised earlier that Lee was willing to deliver Jim even more fully into Sofia’s clutches. I assumed there were residual feelings, and they’d wind up back together, but now I’m not really so sure at all. That seems underlined here – as Jim stares at her through glass, and disavows any type of bond to her. I wonder if they have gone past the point of no return? Especially if Sofia enlightens Jim to the fact that Lee was willing to sell him out. Not that Jim doesn’t need to feel the salutary sting of what it would feel like to be betrayed - hopefully it might teach him something – but it might be a nail in the coffin)

Arkham. A frazzled-looking Ed sits at a desk. He’s signing himself in. The chief medic asks if he’s sure. Ed just looks tiredly at him

You do know who I am, don't you?

The man tells him to read and sign. As he does, Ed tells BadEd

I hate that you were right, but it will keep her safe

BadEd repeats his two eyes riddle, as we see Oswald approach the room.

(An aside – Uh, how? Does Oswald just get to wander with impunity? Did Jerome grant him his special charisma access? He didn’t seem entirely trusting of him that we last saw. If he did, does that access extend to stuff like this guy’s office? Surely pretty easy to escape if he has that, no? Oswald’s clever. Or at least – only when the narrative doesn’t need him to be stupid)

Ed is sick of this riddle, and tells him

Who cares?

You should

Oswald enters the room, accompanied by his villainous jangly music. He’s jubilant and faintly hysterical.

I knew you'd come

Ed is confused. But Oswald says he’s not talking to Ed,

I’m talking to him. I’m talking to him. He laughs. He read my letter.

Bad Ed waves the letter in front of Ed’s face.

Read the first word of each sentence

‘Please bring Ed to Arkham so I can set you free’

Ed looks desperate - cornered. BadEd repeats

What has two eyes but can't see?

Ed panics

No! I came here to save lee

Oswald laughs again – bordering on hysteria.

He read my letter

No – I am Edward Nygma. Lee believes in me and sees me for what I am.

Oswald lunges at his throat and grabs his collar.

But I see him! Lee Thompkins made Ed strong, but I see the other you. The one whose name I wouldn't speak. But because you have earned it and I need your help….

(An aside. This is a frightful guddle. Oswald never thought that ‘Riddler’ was a separate persona. He thought it was an absurd posey name Ed had adopted. The whole point of the grand Oswald/Ed friendship was apparently that Oswald saw BadEd and still thought that was fine and dandy. But now…..Oswald didn’t see that? Or the Riddler isn’t the combined Good and Bad Ed at all? I understand that Ed’s personality is complex – but it’s important to maintain some kind of consistency in who he is and how people perceive him – otherwise you just end up with a gungey mess like this)

Ed is frantic and begging

No - please

I need you, Riddler

Ed grabs his throat and face

Oswald waits, wide-eyed.

Poor Ed. We see several expressions chase each other across his face.

He puts the pen down

Shall we get to work?

Oswald laughs

Ed laughs

(An aside - Hmmm. It’s testament to CMS that a scene with so many wild inconsistencies plays so well. Ed realises he’s been trapped – but it’s too late. Or is it? It’s further testament to him that I think there’s some ambiguity at the end as to the precise nature of the amalgam that’s been created. It didn’t feel as instant or clean as it might.

This scene is also fairly clearly intended as an echo of Ivy and Selina’s stand-off, right down to the hands on the throat, and the appeals to the sense of history and friendship. The difference here is that while Selina genuinely wanted to help Ivy, and while Ivy showed Selina mercy – this is not the case with Ed and Oswald. Oswald shows Ed no mercy – despite his begging and pleading. Unlike Selina, Oswald wants to exacerbate his old friend’s insanity to get what he wants. I suppose you could say that Oswald owes Ed nothing, not after what he did to him – and, indeed, he doesn’t.

Still, it all seems rather ugly and selfish and sad, somehow.)

The kitchen at Wayne Manor. Alfred asks Bruce how he made it off the roof. Bruce tells him the fire escape. He then asks why he ran from Jim. Because Jim has a fucking twitchy trigger finger, Alfred, that’s why.

Bruce says he doesn’t know. He says he wants to help people, and if that means accepting every part of himself, he will - it’s what his parents would have wanted

Would they fuck, Bruce. Your parents would not want this weird psychological assault course Alfred has you attempting.

Alfred tells him his parents would have been proud of him – that he’s proud. He rises. Bruce offers him a lift back to Gotham, but Alfred tells him he’s home.

At GCPD, Harvey looks out over the desks. Jim approaches. Harvey congratulates him – he saved the day. That’s why he’s captain and Harvey’s a 50-year-old screw-up pouring shots.

Jim grimaces.

There’s a reason all right – but not what you think. I screwed up bad, and I need your help to make it right. Sofia hired Pyg - and I knew. I knew and I covered it up.

He’s teared up a little, but now he straightens up

And now I'm going to take her down

Harvey just looks at him. I’m not so sure I saw forgiveness there, if I’m honest.

(An aside – Jim’s big moment here is undermined by how quickly he leaps to the notion of taking Sofia down. It reads less like penance and making amends, and more like shifting the blame to the ‘real’ villain. But Sofia was only ever in town because Jim went to Carmine in the first place. I still don’t feel like he’s taking full responsibility for his actions.)

General Observations

Jim is making sort of vague movements towards making amends in confessing to Harvey – but it’s really not massively convincing. Harvey pointed out, last week, that Jim’s desire to confess is more down to Jim’s need to confess – rather than a genuine desire to make amends. He’s on a mission to take Sofia down, now – but, as I said, I still don’t think he’s anywhere near redemption.

Not a lot of Oswald, this week. I note that – Oswald’s desperation to leave Arkham aside, and that was there anyway – there’s not really one real repercussion of that prolonged and unpleasant storyline with Jerome here. Not one. You’d almost think it was unnecessary.

Aside from that, never mind what version of Ed we had - which version of Oswald was this? I can buy that Oswald is desperate enough to escape that he’s temporarily willing to be completely pragmatic – putting small matters like, say, digging up his father’s corpse to one side. But there are other logistical problems. Previously, Oswald thought that the whole notion of The Riddler was Ed being a poseur – but now he totally gets that the Riddler is the source of Ed’s villainous genius? And given how thoroughly dreadful Ed was on his last visit, why exactly would he think that any aspect of Ed’s dark side was being repressed? On top of that, let’s hope he’s got a back-up plan for when he gets out, because if he should have learned anything, it’s that Ed has a sadistic streak, and would betray him for laughs – or even just to make the point that Oswald does not get to summon him to Arkham to do his bidding.

As for Ed, his story just made me… sad, if I’m honest. He’s not my favourite character, but watching him desperately trying to hit on a combination of pills that will keep Lee safe and buy him some peace, watching him willing to kill himself to do the same, to escape the incessant harassment of a version of himself that he fears – it was genuinely sad. Ed’s ill, and he knows he’s ill.

We’ve seen a few points, over the years, where Ed has tried to get help. He tentatively told Kristen, on their first date, that he heard voices in his head – but she misunderstood him. He seemed to be improving in Arkham, to the point that he had apologised to Oswald for turning him away, but was still plainly ill – and looked bleakly at the doctor who told him he was sane. We see him struggle, here, to maintain control over his compulsions. But nevertheless, here he is again. Ed’s been not waving, but drowning, for a very long time.

I was honestly surprised, as I said, to see Lee willing to sell Jim’s secrets – but I guess it’s a sign of how far her story has moved on. She’s clever, and engaged ably with Sofia, but – at the moment, does not possess the ruthlessness to take her down, as Sofia herself pointed out. From spoilers, it sounds like she is going to cross that line soon. In crossing that line, there might also be common ground created with Ed (whatever version of him we have now), and as discussed above, I don’t think she seemed entirely closed off to the notion of him as a romantic option.

Selina and Ivy’s scene was one of the strongest – harking back to their shared past. Ivy is much improved now they’ve moved away from femme fatale and just made her indiscriminately lethal. A reassertion of Selina’s character was likewise welcome after getting lost in the boring catsuitted vortex of the Sirens’ storyline. It’ll be interesting to see what happens when they next encounter each other.

I’m not wildly engaged by Bruce right now. Sorry. I feel sorry for him – but the reasoning behind Alfred’s behaviour is absent.

Thoughts?

#gotham commentary #gotham s4e13 #reunion

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