#nasty dirty old man whom i love | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

youalexturnermeon · 4 years ago

Text

Warm Beer and Cold Women Pt. 2 (Johnny Lawrence x Reader)

Click for Part 1

Request: Hi! I absolutely love your work and I was wondering if I could get a Cobra Kai Johnny imagine where the reader is a bartender and starts crushing on him since he’s a regular and he flirts with her all the time and she pretends to hate it but she actually loves it? by Anon

A/N: First part is basically just the request, the second part is more angsty and more heated. Johnny protects the reader from some creeps in the bar and they get finally closer

Warnings: badass reader, drinking, DUI, swearing, violence and sexual harassment

Wordcount: 3174

Friday nights were busier, much busier than any of the other days of the week. You didn’t know how much busier than the other fancy bars in L.A. but for you it was most certainly busy enough. Mostly, middle-aged men came by, construction workers above all, who decided to celebrate the end of the week by getting black-out drunk. The bar was much noisier and loud music blasted through the old shabby speakers on the walls. You didn’t particularly like the big groups of men. They weren’t the nicest and they were the definition of a patriarchal dick comparison that mostly consisted of hitting on the female barkeepers. They were a huge pain in the ass, but at least, the drunker they got, the better they tipped. And you needed the money. Compared to them Johnny was a literal angel.

You didn’t show much enthusiasm when you walked around with a tray, picking up dirty glasses, taking new orders tipped with a few disgusting comments and bringing new drinks over to the tables. Usually, you liked being behind the counter more. Firstly, because you didn’t have to move much, also you loved making cocktails, and secondly because of Johnny who was always an annoyingly good company, although you were never willing to admit that. However, he seemed off today. He still was full on hitting on you and complimenting your today’s choice of clothing, he said he loved how you looked in your shorts and fishnets, but you could see that someothing was going on with him. He was staring into space more than usual and he didn’t pick fights with the construction workers who accidentally bumped into him from time to time. You wanted to ask him about it, because you genuinely were interested in him but as soon as you walked past him with a new full tray, to bring it to a table with three men, he gave you a dirty wink. And the wish to know something about him just vanished, so you made your way.

“Alright,” you said in your overly nice server’s voice as you started placing down the drinks on the table, trying to ignore the looks on your body. You were used to it, you were attractive and being that whilst working as a barkeeper just came with nasty comments and occasional sexual harassment.

“We have three beers, one dark and two Lager, two Whisky on the rocks and one Vodka soda.” Everyone tried to grab their drink from your hands, which you hated but that was okay, some people just didn’t know better, they thought they were helping out that way. When you were putting down the last of the beers on the table and leaned down, a rough hand suddenly brushed over your chest. You might have imagined it, you thought, that was probably an accident. After all, the man, still in his dirty work clothes, probably just tried to grab his dark beer. Yet you stopped for a second, eyes wide, then you cleared your throat and pulled yourself together.

“You alright, love?” he asked, and you nodded, “Yeah, sure, enjoy!”

The man who did that wasn’t even looking at you, you missed his dirty smirk by seconds. You just shook if off, you had thick skin and turned around to go back to your beloved counter. Yet, the minute you turned your back to the men sitting, you instantly felt it. A hand on your ass, a squeeze and you heard laughter, then - a slap. You snapped back and slammed the tray on their table, glasses clanking.

“Get you fucking hands off me, you asshole!” you yelled, your breath suddenly quicker, anger rising in you. So, you haven’t imagined it, he touched your breasts before. Bad pick-up lines were okay, but this was too far. Groping was the last straw for you.

“Or what?” he retorted immediately and now you were seeing the disgusting grin on his sweaty wrinkled face, full of self-admiration, he was so proud of himself “Are you gonna chop them off with that sharp tongue of yours?”

You let out a hateful laugh, he probably was expecting you to leave it be, after all he was a customer and you’re a simple barkeeper. But not with you.

“No, I’m gonna bite your fucking tiny dick off!”

“Ohhh,”, the men growled together, “That’s a feisty one. Wanna see it? It’s not that tiny. You’ll like it.”, the bald sweaty one said and gestured to his crotch.

“I’m gonna bite your dick off. Then I’m going to go to your house and I’m gonna fuck your wife. And I’m gonna fuck her so good, she’ll leave your sorry dickless, spineless ass!”

Suddenly, your groper was on his feet, he was so close to you, you could smell his boozy breath, although he towered inches above you. He didn’t like being talked to like that. And his glance was full of fury.

“Leave my wife out of that, you slut!” he grunted through his teeth and took another threatening step towards you, nervously fiddling with his wedding ring. You didn’t back off, you were in your bar.

“I’m gonna leave her out of it if you apologize for being a piece of shit to me, you do not fucking touch your server!”

“Maybe you shouldn’t walk around in these tiny shorts of yours, showing off your legs if you don’t want men to appreciate it.”

You took a deep breath, this was not really happening right now. You felt so dirty.

“Is there a problem, (Y/N)?” you heard a familiar voice out of a sudden and felt a hand on your shoulder. And that’s when you understood how tense you were, but the soft touch helped, you relaxed. You didn’t even realize that as soon as you started yelling, Johnny sprung off his seat and rushed over to you.

“I…” you started but you had lost your words. It was the first time he touched you.

“Leave her the fuck alone!” Johnny growled, now shifting his attention from you to the three men who were bothering you. His voice was so ominous that it made you shiver. You had never seen him mad before. Protectively he stood in front of you, shielding you from their gaze, since he, too, was much taller than you. In the back Kenny was making his way to the scene as well.

“You scumbags should really pack your stuff and leave this fucking bar before I kill someone. You better watch how the fuck you are talking to her!”

“And who’s that? Your daddy?”, another spiteful remark from your tormenter. Johnny’s arms started trembling, he clenched his fist and the grip on your shoulder tightened, it almost hurt you. At the same it was calming you down.

“Yeah, and I’m her little brother” you heard yet another to you well-known voice and saw Kenny, who also stood there like a mountain, arms crossed in front of his chest, glaring down on the three construction workers, whilst his leather jacket crackled from where he tensed his muscles. He was fucking scary which made the men on appear so tiny whereas the one standing leapt back a couple steps, clearly intimidated by Kenny’s appearance and Johnny’s rage.

“And you better apologize to this lady before I give you a ban!”

And funnily enough, this helped. They muttered something about how they were sorry. But you didn’t even listen to it anymore, you were already walking back, Johnny following you, Kenny staying. You didn’t want to hear any more of that conversation. You wanted your safe space behind the bar with no one around you at best.

“Are you okay?” Johnny asked, seemingly concerned and took a seat at the other side of the counter. You were avoiding his eyes as you nodded, you didn’t want his pity. You just wanted a drink.

“That happens all the time, don’t worry,” you lied “As someone working here, I have to deal with it every fucking day. And you, my little drunk friend, are also part of the problem.”

“Ouch,” Johnny said and smiled, “At least, I never touched you!” “Seriously Johnny?” you laughed and saw how glad he was that you were able do that after the fight at the table, “The first time you came here, you bumped into me, hard.” “But not too hard.”

“And on purpose!”

“You can’t prove that,” he said grinning, “But it’s nice to hear that you still remember the first time we met. That has to mean something, right? Something like that we’re meant for each other.”

You rolled your eyes and poured yourself a whisky, you drank it and immediately another, “Not now, Johnny.”

“Sorry,” he said apologetically, and you were almost surprised to hear that from him “By the way, I really loved you threatening to fuck this asshole’s wife. That was badass. Just be careful next time, though, okay?”

“Is he bothering you, too?”, Kenny who suddenly appeared asked also pouring himself a whisky but in a much bigger glass than yours and a second in a smaller one.

“If I say yes, are you going to kill him?”

“Not necessarily kill him but cripple him real good.”

You heard Johnny gulp. He wasn’t afraid of three man but of Kenny. But Kenny laughed and placed a Whisky in front of Johnny, “That’s for protecting my (Y/N). After all you’re not as bad as she says.”

For the rest of the night, Kenny has sent you into the office, he wanted you to adjust the schedule for next week. You knew that it was only an excuse to get you out of the bar for a couple of hours, since the shifts you and the others had were always the same for years now. And you didn’t mind, although you wouldn’t have minded staying with Johnny either. Funnily enough, he calmed you down. Nevertheless, he was now making friends with Kenny whom he never really liked, so you knew, he was in good hands. It was around two o’clock in the morning when Kenny finally came in to tell you that you were free to go home if you did him the favour of bringing the garbage out and close the bar. This you didn’t mind as well. You dragged the bags behind you into the backyard where the bins were and that was also when Kenny said his goodbye.

“Are you going to be okay?” he asked as he got on his bike and let the motor roar.

“Yeah,” you waved at him “Go home, I’ll be fine.”

And just like that, he was gone. You sighed and heaved the trash into the bins. Before you made your way back inside to get your bag to finally go home and sleep you decided to smoke a cigarette. And maybe that was your mistake.

“Well, well, well, if this isn’t the feisty little bitch,” you suddenly heard a slurring voice behind you, followed by laughter as were about to light a cigarette. You didn’t even have to turn around to know exactly to whom it belonged. This time, there was no anger rising in you, you didn’t dare to say a thing, there was only fear. You dropped your cigarette.

“Where are your friends now?”

“Kenny is still inside,” you answered trying to sound calm but your voice was shaky and so were your hands “And the other one is wai-“

“Bullshit!” exclaimed the man who acted that he was so sorry to have groped you only hours before. He was even drunker now and his thin lips crowned a spiteful grin. You were fucked.

“We just saw the big guy leaving on his motorbike. You’re all alone now.” And they were right. You tried to pull yourself together, to think of a plan to get you out of this situation but everything you could think of was calling the cops and on top of that your phone was still inside. You just have to fight back, your brain kept telling you!

“And what are you going to do? Beat me up? Rape me?” you tried to sound confident, but it was pretty difficult now that you were not in the bar anymore but outside in the backyard between some dumpsters. Your voice was failing you.

“Maybe a little bit of both?” one of the men said amused and shrugged while another one was now far too close to you, so close that he could grab your wrist. His grip was so tight that you cried out in pain and that was when you took all your courage, lashed out and punched him with all your might in the face. Your hand hurt as hell but now you saw blood.

“Shit, this bitch broke my nose!” your victim cried out in pain and now, with two other man leaping towards you, you were done with your plan, you just closed your eyes and…

“What the fuck did I tell you?”, a scream and then a loud thump. When you dared to open your eyes, you could not believe them. Johnny who managed to throw himself between you and the group was now in pretty hardcore fist fight. Although at the second glance you realized that he was not only throwing one strong punch after another but also full-on kicking the kicking the shit out of the assholes who were threatening you. He must’ve known some Martial Arts or something, you thought because this looked like being straight out of an action film. You couldn’t even follow the fight with your eyes that’s how quick Johnny was moving. Yet, some time you saw him being punched as well but it was nothing compared to how he dealt blows. And it that moment, you knew, you could never be not grateful to this man in your life ever again.

It might’ve taken just second or maybe hours but after a while, the men were gone, you didn’t even realize how they fled Johnny, and there were only you two left.

Johnny was panting when he came over to you, where you still stood motionless with your back pressed against the wall.

“Are you okay?”, he asked breathing quickly, holding out his hand to you. Without thinking you grabbed it and let yourself lead to a curb stone where you two sat down. You didn’t answer you just took out another cigarette and lit it, letting the smoke calming your lungs.

“(Y/N)?”

“I’m okay,” you said finally coming back to you and finding your voice, offering him a cigarette as well which he gladly accepted.

“Are you?” you asked while you studied him. He was the only one that had to be asked. Johnny looked rough. His blonde hair was all messy, his clothes now dirty and jeans ripped at the knees, but above all it was his face that concerned you. Blood was dripping from his chin, coming from his burst lip. Also, it already crusted on the cheekbone where a fresh scratch was on top of a purple bruise. And in the dim light you were not completely sure, but you could see a black eye being there tomorrow.

“I mean, you look like shit.” “Thanks, you’re always so kind to me. I can clearly see why I like you so much,” he joked “But yeah, I’m fine. Believe it or not but I always get into fights, this shit kinda follows me.”

“How did you beat them up like that anyways? Was that Krav Maga or something?”

“Karate” Johnny answered proudly and took a relieving drag from his cigarette.

“You never told me you did Karate.”

“You never asked me,” he smiled at you and protectively put and arm around your shoulders. He must’ve noticed how you shivered. And you didn’t object. You weren’t really cold but you just wanted be held by him.

“Well, to be fair, I never ask you anything besides your order. But I’ll guess I’m gonna start from now on. There’s obviously more to you than being a noisy bastard.” “Oh I’m honoured to be the one who finally melted the infamous (Y/N)’s heart.”

“No Johnny, seriously, you didn’t melt my heart, but you saved my ass. Thank you,” you laid your head on his shoulder and closed your eyes “I don’t even wanna know what would’ve happened if you weren’t there.”

“You don’t have to,” Johnny said softly and stroked your hair “Because I was there! And you’re save with me.”

You were, you felt save and you sighed. There was only one thing left to do.

“Now, c’mon, let’s patch you up so we can finally call it a day” you said and stood up.

Half an hour later you could finally close the doors to the damn bar, it was relieving. “Do you need a ride?”, Johnny asked when stopped for a second and gestured over to a black car in the distance “Because I’m not leaving you alone here anymore, not today, not ever.”

You rolled your eyes, but you smiled. After all, it was an amazing feeling to know that Johnny cared about you. That he wasn’t just one freak you liked because he was nice to you but genuinely wanted you to be happy. However, you just couldn’t help yourself but being a sarcastic little shit again.

“No, thank you,” you answered, “I’m not really interested in being involved in DUI again.”

“And there she is, (Y/N) being herself again,” Johnny laughed but he didn’t seem to mind. Instead, he threw his keys at you “You’re driving then.” You clumsily caught but immediately threw them back at him.

“I’m also not driving. I don’t have a license, lost it a few months ago.” “For DUI?”

“For DUI,” you answered. The curse of working in a bar.

“So how are you getting home? Because I’m really not leaving you alone.”

“I called myself an Uber and there it is” you saw the only moving car in the distance and pointed at it.

“Thanks again,” you said when you were walking towards your Uber and Johnny made his way to his.

“No problem”

And something in you told you, that you two weren’t done yet. As you watched him walking you suddenly realized what it was. “Johnny!” you called out and he stopped.

“What is it, (Y/N)?”

“Tomorrow for sure, I’m gonna finally let you buy me that fucking drink. And I want to know everything about your Karate. Is that a deal?”

“You bet!”, he yelled back, and the brightest smile appeared on his face. He finally made it. “See you tomorrow!”

“See you tomorrow.” You whispered back. And on your face also appeared a smile. Tomorrow would be the day, you thought and finally got in the car.

But Johnny didn’t come tomorrow, and he didn’t come the day after. That was unusual. You were waiting for him, but he didn’t show himself for almost two weeks.

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

Part 3

Sooooooo, let me know what you all think about this fuckery

Taglist: @lililolli

#johnny lawrence x reader #johnny lawrence imagine #johnny lawrence fluff #johnny lawrence angst #angst #fluff #cobra kai #cobra kai imagine #cobra kai one shot #karate kid #billy zabka #william zabka

198 notes · View notes

basilhearsanoise · 4 years ago

Text

Guardian Angels - Chapter 1

A Memory Formed, Then All but Wiped Away

Dean Winchester was born on a cold January morning in 1979, when the sun had not yet risen. He wouldn’t hear his name for a few years after that, though. You see, when Mary, Dean’s mother, found out she was pregnant, her husband John said, “We should name the kid after your folks. Always talk about how you miss ‘em. Be a good way to keep ‘em alive,” and Mary liked that idea very much.

So when the doctors told them they were going to have a baby girl - because doctors like to play god in these situations almost as much as God does - Mary knew that she would name the child after her mother. Deanna was a beautiful name, after all. It was only a few hours after they got home from that visit, however, that their two sons burst in from over 30 years in the future, and brought the preamble to the apocalypse with them. One of whom, they’ve seen before - as a hunter on a case, as a car enthusiast. As a man. Who says to her, “It’s kind of hard to believe. I’m your son.”

Mary doesn’t get to remember her son’s face for very long, because angels are meddlesome creatures and time travel doesn’t usually rest easy on the human psyche. But she finds herself thinking of the strange hunter who was there that night with the yellow-eyed demon. He’d really been trouble, but he’d tried so hard to help. Her memory of him became more sentimental, somehow, without her even really noticing the change. She wonders if that hunter was some kind of spirit, a ghost sent to warn her about that night. The night she tries to not ever think about, but yet, always comes crawling back to the front of her mind. It all seems to have so much - so much meaning, something more that she can’t quite put her finger on. Suddenly, she feels a cosmic presence in her life, and she knows, deep down, it’s because of her baby.

“I’m tellin’ you, this kid is gonna be somebody,” she says to John as she dotes over their newborn. “Isn’t that right?” She coos. “That’s right! You’ve got angels watching over you!”

—

“No. Dean,” Dean corrects his mother, chocolate melting in his tiny three-year-old hands. It’s all over his face. Some of it’s in his hair, too, like tar stuck to a bail of hay. His voice is garbled, a toddler unable to properly enunciate to save his life, but still, alarmingly clear and concise.

Mary, exhausted, at her wit’s end, holds the dress out to him for the millionth time. “Deanna, pl—“

“No!” Dean is more hurt, now, and the tantrum is well on its way. “I won’t! I don’ like it!” The rest is mostly unintelligible screaming. Smearing his chocolate all over the dress, he turns and runs, crying.

John tries to pick him up and cradle him but he kicks and yells and punches. They have to have a talk about violence after that, that it’s not nice to hit and scream. It’s the first and last conversation on the topic Dean will ever get from his parents.

Not long after that, the preschool calls, says Dean has “caused a scene in class.” They tried to separate the boys and girls for a game, and he went with the boys. When they tried to stop him, he threw a fit and had to be excused for the rest of the day. And then the next day, and the next, and the next.

Mary and John are at a loss. Their son is insisting he is their son, but like any parent, they are having trouble believing it. Mary thinks about the hunter from that night more and more now. What did he say his name was again? There was something so familiar about all of this, almost like Mary was back on an old hunting case. But no, she gave that up…she couldn’t call any of her contacts and see if they know anything about her kid…could she?

…Ring, ring.

“Hello Mary,” Missouri answers, the grin already apparent in her voice.

No matter how many times she did that, it always freaked Mary out, just a little. But at least you knew she was the real deal as soon as she picked up the phone.

“Hi Missouri, it’s good to speak to you.”

“Mm. I don’t think it is. At least, the subject matter doesn’t seem like it will be good.” Missouri twiddles the phone cable around her finger. “John’s not going to like it. You’ll warm up to it though. I’ll be over soon.”

Click.

Laughing, but mostly out of shock, Mary puts down the receiver. After all this time, you’d think she’d stop being surprised by how good Missouri is. But that level of psychic ability is uncanny enough to throw anyone through a loop. Better make sure John would be gone that afternoon. She was not ready to explain this to him.

When Missouri walks in, she throws her arms around Mary warmly. “Now,” she asks, looking around. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen you Mary, I haven’t even met your boy. Go and fetch him, I want to meet him before we get down to whatever nasty business you called about.”

Mary pulls the sides of her mouth back in a gesture that could only be interpreted as: yikes.

“Missouri, I…I don’t quite know how to say this, but our…” The words feel strange in her mouth, but what’s really strange is that…she thought they’d feel stranger. “….my son…is what I called about.”

Missouri raises an eyebrow.

“Is there something wrong with him? I haven’t sensed any evil presences in the house.”

Mary still doesn’t quite know what to say, stutters a little.

Perplexed, but intrigued, Missouri says, “Well go and get him. I’ll see for myself.”

With a shrug, Mary goes to the kitchen. “Honey…put down your toys, Mommy wants you to meet a friend.”

Dean waddles into the living room, still clutching his favorite toy car. He clings to his mother’s skirt, but waves at Missouri, who looks him up and down from his dirty shoes to the top of his baggy overalls.

“What have you got there?” She asks.

“Vroom!” Dean answers, showing her how the car shoots forward when you wind the wheels back on the floor.

Missouri laughs heartily in agreement. “Yes, sweetheart. What a lovely toy. It’s nice to meet you, Dean.”

His little eyes shimmer up at her, his face slowly peeling into a wide, wide grin. He giggles and keeps playing with his car.

Mary stares at Missouri in disbelief, opens her mouth to speak, but can’t find words. She slowly sits down on the couch. Dean follows his car back into the kitchen and can be heard vrooming about the house. For a moment that’s all the noise there is, until Mary can finally gather herself enough to say, “Missouri, I…I don’t understand.”

Missouri walks over and sits next to her, gently takes her hand. “Mary, you know that there are things in this world that are not easy to understand at first, but that doesn’t make them any less real.”

“Well, yes,” Mary replies, flustered, afraid. “Ghosts, ghouls…but you’re not saying he’s a monster, are you?”

Missouri’s expression darkens a little. “The world will surely tell you he is one. But nothing could be further from the truth. People like Dean have always existed, just like people like me have always existed. It’s perfectly natural. Most people just don’t believe we’re real.”

Mary is still completely at a loss. Missouri squeezes her hand. “Your son is transgender, Mary,” she continues gently. “I can see into his soul and see that he’s a little boy, just like any other, except he’s in a world that can’t see him the way I can.”

It’s as if someone took a needle and jabbed it into Mary’s brain. Flashes of Dean’s adult face begin to swim through her mind.

“I’m your son.”

Could these memories be real or was she going mad? It was all so overwhelming. She throws her arms around Missouri and begins to sob. Missouri can sense that something in her mind has opened up, that had been locked tight, and it unnerves her to think what could have turned the key. She holds her dear friend close until she can recover enough to catch her breath.

“What do I do?” Mary whimpers, looking towards the kitchen, towards Dean.

“You love him,” Missouri replies. “You respect him.”

“H-…how?”

“Well…” Missouri tries her best to be matter-of-fact. “First you have to talk to John and get him on board.” Mary’s eyes roll a little. Getting John to change his mind about anything was going to be a hassle. “Then…you call the school. Tell them to call him by the right name. Tell your friends to call him by the right name…not much else to it, darling.”

“But…what happens when…he grows up? How will…”

“I have some friends who might be able to help you,” Missouri says warmly. “But you can cross that bridge when you come to it. It’s all about doing what’s necessary now, and simply listening is the most important thing when children are young. Follow his lead, honey. He knows what he needs.”

Dean runs into the living room again. “Mommy, sammich?” He beams.

Mary can’t help but laugh as she wipes away her tears. Dean notices and instantly hugs her knees. “Don’t cry, mommy,” he pleads. “I love you.”

“I love you too…Dean,” Mary shakily replies, rustling his hair the way she always does.

Dean looks up, his face somehow happier than before. He reaches up to her in the way all toddlers do when they want to be held, and she scoops him up into her arms. Missouri smiles at the sight.

“You want a sandwich?” Mary asks her, still processing, but trying to inject some humor into the situation now.

“That sounds lovely,” Missouri answers. “I think I’ll have mine with the crusts cut off, too. That’s your favorite, isn’t it, Dean?”

“Yes!” Dean gurgles happily as Mary places him at the kitchen table.

“Alright, three sandwiches, hold the crust, comin’ right up,” Mary laughs. Later, she knew things were going to get messy. But for now, they could all sit down and enjoy a nice snack.

23 notes · View notes

veliseraptor · 5 years ago

Note

Hey Lise, I was wondering if you could maybe just give me a quick and dirty synopsis of The Untamed characters? I really like your fics and wanna read them, but I have NO idea who anyone is hahaha

I was gonna like. Link to someone else’s rundown of this, but then I decided it might be fun to write my own, which was a mistake. But I make all kinds of mistakes! So unsurprising.

This is going to, by virtue of being a character overview, contain spoilers, so if you think you’re gonna want to watch and want to avoid spoilers then watch out for that. This is also broken down by sect because that makes it easier.

The degree to which I explain the plot here varies wildly and I’m not actually sure how coherent it is. If you want a more detailed rundown that has pictures and shit and also other information, see here; also some of these characters have more than one name, which I’ve noted where the usage of multiple names is likely to pop up in fic.

This is very much QUICK and DIRTY and NOT COMPREHENSIVE, just to underline that a few times. It’s also show focused rather than novel focused, because that’s most of the canon I’m working with. I have also not translated titles here (Hanguang-jun, Zewu-jun etc.) because they just sound better untranslated.

THE JIANG SECT

Wei Wuxian: Also known as Wei Ying or (if you’re nasty) the Yiling Patriarch. One of the two main characters of the show. He died (killed himself) in disgrace, universally reviled as evil, but it’s okay, he got better. Or rather, his soul got swapped into the body of a man named Mo Xuanyu, whose life really sucked and who almost never gets acknowledged by the narrative. Sunshine boy on the outside, but it’s complicated.

Sort of invented necromancy, or at least perfected it. Will kill you with his magic ghost flute, but mostly only if you deserve it. Mostly. Self-sacrificing to a fault due to basement level self-worth and a tendency to believe that he can handle things other people can’t. Swapped out his ability to do magic to keep his brother alive via nonconsensual surgery. This had a lot of somewhat unexpected consequences, it turns out. Got thrown into a very bad place called the Burial Mounds and came out with new powers and a whole new pile of trauma.

Rescues the Wen remnants from being killed in a prison camp after the war against the Wen Sect; this is not a popular move. Founds a commune with them in the aforementioned Burial Grounds. Also raises Wen Ning from the not-dead.

Adopted older brother (ish) to Jiang Cheng and younger brother to Jiang Yanli, adopted father to Lan Sizhui, eventual husband to Lan Wangji (at least according to novel canon and many, many post-canon fics).

Jiang Cheng: Also known as Jiang Wanyin, but only if he’s being a little bitch. He technically has a title (Sandu Shengshou) but I don’t remember if it’s ever actually used in the show. The youngest of the triad of Yunmeng Siblings (Wei Wuxian, Jiang Cheng, and Jiang Yanli), and possibly the most dysfunctional. Expresses all his feelings as anger, and he has a lot of feelings. Abandonment issues and inferiority complex the size of the lake that he grew up on. His entire family died and it fucked him up pretty bad, along with all the other terrible shit that happened. 100% Slytherin especially in terms of “protect my own people first and probably nobody else second.”

Adopted younger brother to Wei Wuxian, biological younger brother to Jiang Yanli. Uncle to Jin Ling (see below).

Jiang Yanli: I’ll take “oldest daughter who doubled as parent figure” for 500, Alex. Jiang Yanli is relatively quiet and mild-mannered but she loves her brothers very much and will throw down for them in a pinch. Tends to wilt in the face of people treating her poorly; not very good at standing up for herself. A professional at taking care of other people and not herself (Wei Wuxian and she have this in common!). She dies and it really does a number on her siblings.

Oldest sister of Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng, wife of Jin Zixuan, mother of Jin Ling.

Jiang Fengmian & Yu Ziyuan: Parents of Jiang Yanli and Jiang Cheng and source of the above’s dysfunction, in a lot of ways. Jiang Fengmian plays favorites (with his adopted son Wei Wuxian) and takes out his feelings about his wife (complicated) by ignoring Jiang Cheng and Jiang Yanli. Madame Yu is straight up abusive; physically of Wei Wuxian, emotionally of everyone else. In her first appearance she walks into dinner and specifically targets everyone’s weak spots, demolishing three children emotionally in about two minutes, then leaves.

This family! It’s a disaster.

THE LAN SECT

Lan Wangji: Also known as Lan Zhan or Hanguang-jun. The other main character. Has a reputation for being very upright and righteous and rule-abiding; is that, sort of, but also kind of a socially awkward, deeply lonely boy who is trying to be a good person and thinks he can get there by following the right rules. Eventually figures out that’s not how it works. Doesn’t make friends easily but when he loves someone it is with all 500% of his heart.

His circle of people is very small, though. It’s kind of just two: his brother and Wei Wuxian. That’s all! Lan Wangji could use some friends, maybe.

He’s good! Also learns to rebel when appropriate, and “appropriate” especially involves things having to do with Wei Wuxian, for whom he will do just about anything, at least after he comes back from the dead. Before that it’s a little harder.

Younger brother of Lan Xichen, nephew of Lan Qiren, adopted father of Lan Sizhui, eventual husband to Wei Wuxian (see above).

Lan Xichen: Also known as Zewu-jun. He does have a birth name (everyone does!) but it doesn’t get used in canon. Also parented his younger brother (there’s a lot of sibling parents in this show!). Is the peacemaker, does not like conflict, diplomatic to a fault. Noticed how everyone else is very quick to jump to conclusions and decided he has to take all of the giving of the benefit of the doubt and good faith and “let’s wait and see and not jump to murder” because no one else is going to.

People in fandom give him a lot of shit for being stupid but he is not! He is just conflict-averse and cautious and inclined to reserve judgment on people. It just turns out that he happens to place his faith in the wrong person, which is to say Jin Guangyao. It does not work out. He ends up getting tricked/manipulated into killing Jin Guangyao by Nie Huaisang, and is about to stay and die with him when Jin Guangyao surprise pushes him away and thus saves his life.

At least one of the Lan brothers gets a happy ending!

Older brother of Lan Wangji, nephew of Lan Qiren, sworn brother/boyfriend of Jin Guangyao and Nie Mingjue.

Lan Qiren: Lan Wangji and Lan Xichen’s uncle who essentially raised them due to family dysfunction involving a mother who was basically on house arrest (because she killed someone??? not sure what happened there, information minimal) and their father seems to have been absent, and both died before series start. Rigid and hidebound, very much not a Wei Wuxian fan, very strict with both the Lan brothers and sometimes that involves corporal punishment and yelling.

There are no good parents or parent figures in this series.

Uncle to Lan Wangji and Lan Xichen.

Lan Sizhui: Also known as A-Yuan / Wen Yuan. Originally a Wen kid, first adopted by Wei Wuxian when he founded the commune with the Wen remnants, then adopted by Lan Wangji when everyone in his family was killed and also Wei Wuxian. Grew up a Lan with no memory of his past. Lan Sizhui has two dads.

Cousin/brother (??) to Wen Ning and Wen Qing, adopted son of Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian.

Lan Jingyi: Sassmaster extraordinaire; the Lan kid who gets to say everything the rest of the Lans are holding back. Of the younger generation quartet formed by him, Lan Sizhui, Ouyang Zizhen, and Jin Ling. If a Lan kid in a scene is sassing someone, it’s Jingyi.

THE NIE SECT

Nie Mingjue: Also known as Chifeng-zun. Very strong opinions about right and wrong with not a whole lot of room for nuance. Formidable warrior. Anger issues, also daddy issues but we don’t get into those as much. Not exactly the friendliest of fellows but it’s not completely his fault, he’s being gradually poisoned by the malevolence of his own weapon. It’s a thing. Dies as a result of being poisoned by evil music courtesy of Jin Guangyao.

Sworn brother/boyfriend to Lan Xichen and Jin Guangyao. Older brother of Nie Huaisang.

Nie Huaisang: Mastermind (sort of) of questionable morality, sometimes in order to get revenge for the murder of your older brother you have to wait ten years while building up a reputation as someone utterly useless, then get your old best friend resurrected as part of a series of dominoes meant to demolish your brother’s murderer’s entire life and reputation. Loves art and fans, not a fan of losing his mind to violent sabers as is traditional for the Nie Sect. Smarter than he wants you to think he is, and also just really good at winging it.

Younger brother of Nie Mingjue.

THE JIN SECT

Jin Guangshan: The actual worst. Sect Leader for the first half of the show. Should’ve been kicked down several sets of stairs; the world would’ve been a better place.

Father of Jin Zixuan, Jin Guangyao, Mo Xuanyu, and too many other bastards to list. Possibly Jin Zixun? I’m not clear on that.

Jin Zixuan: Disaster Straight. He comes off as aloof and arrogant but partly this is because he’s just really bad at interacting with people and incredibly awkward. Eventually marries Jiang Yanli after failing to express his feelings for 26 episodes. Shortly thereafter ends up dying when he’s fisted by Wen Ning (through the chest, you filthy animal).

Husband of Jiang Yanli, father of Jin Ling.

Jin Zixun: The other actual worst. When Jin Zixun is having fun no one else is, and when Jin Zixun is not having fun no one else is either. Just generally a tool. As far as I can tell has no redeeming qualities. His ambush of Wei Wuxian provokes the rolling disaster that results ultimately in the deaths of (in order) Jin Zixuan, Wen Qing, Jiang Yanli, and Wei Wuxian.

Cousin of Jin Zixuan.

Jin Guangyao: Also known as Meng Yao and Lianfang-zun, the former before he gets promoted by his absolute bastard of a dad. He’s complicated! A good boy, also responsible for a lot of the bad things that happen, with varying degrees of culpability depending on who you ask. Son of a (in everyone’s words, ever) prostitute, and he’s really got a problem with it. Made some valid points but also got possibly too much revenge on people who hurt him, including some preemptive revenge on people who might have. Does a lot of murder but mostly via other people or evil music. Gets kicked down the stairs twice, which if you ask me is a pretty good reason to be kinda worked up about things.

His hat is very silly and I will not pretend otherwise.

Dies at the end and it’s real sad, if you ask me. Incredibly gay for Lan Xichen, and who can blame him?

Son of Jin Guangshan, half brother of Jin Zixuan, sworn brother/boyfriend of Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue.

Jin Ling: Part of the quartet of juniors including Lan Sizhui, Lan Jingyi, and Ouyang Zizhen. A mess of a child. (Half)-raised by Jiang Cheng and it shows. Spoiled brat but also just like. Brimming with loneliness and desperation for someone’s approval.

Son of Jiang Yanli and Jin Zixuan, grandson of Jin Guangshan, nephew of Jiang Cheng and Jin Guangyao (and Wei Wuxian, and Mo Xuanyu, and too many other bastards to name, he’s got a lot of uncles).

Mianmian / Luo Qingyang: Mostly known as Mianmian, which is her nickname. She’s technically a servant but Jin Zixuan is her best friend. Ditches the Jin Sect when they start being jackasses about Wei Wuxian in a seriously epic mic drop moment. Actually lives to the end of the show which makes one female character!

THE WEN SECT

Wen Ruohan: The first Big Bad of the show. Pursuing world domination by the power of the Yin Iron, aka evil metal that lets you control corpses. It doesn’t go well for him.

Dies at the hands of Jin Guangyao - going, at the time, by Meng Yao.

Father of Wen Xu and Wen Chao.

Wen Xu: The oldest son of Wen Ruohan; he barely appears but he does exist. Or did, he doesn’t make it very long.

Wen Chao: Absolute worm of a human being. Like Draco Malfoy in early Harry Potter, but with more killing people. Dies an absolutely horrifying death courtesy of Wei Wuxian, but he did throw Wei Wuxian into a place he was supposed to horribly die in, so I don’t feel that bad for him.

Younger son of Wen Ruohan.

Wen Qing: Incredibly gifted physician, can probably fix anything, including transferring a golden core from one person to another which no one has ever done before. (That’s how Wei Wuxian’s ended up in Jiang Cheng.) Starts out as determinedly loyal to Wen Ruohan basically to protect Wen Ning and keep him safe, but keeps ending up helping our protagonists basically against her better judgment. This does not earn her any points with the Wens, and being a Wen does not earn her any points with anyone else.

Ends up getting swept up by Wei Wuxian when he finds her destitute in the street and they charge off to save her brother together. Subsequently lives in the Burial Mounds commune up until things go to shit and she goes to give herself up with Wen Ning in the hopes of mitigating damage after Jin Zixuan dies. She is executed.

Has a non-thing with Jiang Cheng because they’re very alike in ways that mean that, under the circumstances, they keep missing each other.

Older sister of Wen Ning, sister/cousin (??) of Lan Sizhui, adopted older sister of Wei Wuxian, sort of.

Wen Ning: Also known as Wen Qionglin, but like, once in canon. So you probably won’t see it much. Neither he nor his sister are actually related to Wen Ruohan - they’re from a branch of the family but serve him. Wen Ning doesn’t get to have a lot of nice things. He saves Wei Wuxian’s life (after Wei Wuxian saves his), and (along with Wen Qing) helps get Jiang Cheng out when he was captured by the Wens and protects Wei Wuxian, Jiang Cheng, and Jiang Yanli after their family and sect are killed.

After the Sunshot Campaign he is killed by Jin cultivators (or almost, it’s complicated) but brought back to unlife by Wei Wuxian. Unfortunately this makes him vulnerable to control to make him do things like, say, kill Jin Zixuan and Jin Zixun. He and Wen Qing go to be presumably executed in an attempt to mitigate the damage to Wei Wuxian/maybe?? save his life; Wen Ning gets kept in a dungeon for sixteen years and comes back when Wei Wuxian does.

Younger brother of Wen Qing. brother/cousin (??) of Lan Sizhui, adopted younger brother of Wei Wuxian, sort of.

Wen Zhuliu: Mysterious assassin/bodyguard of the Wens, we know almost nothing about his backstory save that he owes them some kind of debt and he and Yu Ziyuan seem to have some kind of history. The main thing is that he’s capable of destroying the golden core of cultivators, aka rendering them an ordinary person devoid of special powers, forever. Gets killed by Jiang Cheng, whose golden core he destroyed.

Various Wen Remnants: You don’t get a lot of individual characterization from these folks - basically they are the remains of the Wen Sect after the Wen Sect is defeated in the war (called the Sunshot Campaign) that forms the arc of the first part of the show. Pretty much everyone wants them dead. Wei Wuxian rescues them and takes them off to the Burial Mounds, where no one else wants to go, and builds a commune with them, which works for a while until it doesn’t anymore.

They all die. It’s bad.

YI CITY CREW

These got long because I felt like I had to explain more about plot stuff.

Xue Yang: The gremlin! Will cheerfully murder just about anyone at the drop of a hat, he doesn’t really need a reason. Driven initially by a revenge quest for the guy who crushed his finger when he was seven; he kills his whole family, which is a reasonable response when you think of your own life as worth significantly more than anyone else’s. Subsequently and also during fixated on Xiao Xingchen. Kind of a genius?? but he’s pretty low key about it.

Really involved with the plot in a lot of weird ways. Introduced Wen Ruohan to the Yin Iron and taught him how it functioned-ish, worked with Jin Guangyao for a while on necromancy stuff, after the inevitable betrayal ended up getting picked up by a now blind Xiao Xingchen (more on that later) and a-Qing, and lived with them in domestic semi-bliss for three years while also tricking Xiao Xingchen into murdering a lot of people, up to and including his sort-of-ex-boyfriend Song Lan. Turned Song Lan into a zombie, sort of. Fell apart when Xiao Xingchen died (killed himself, on account of Xue Yang demolishing his entire life, whoops) and spent the next decade or so trying to bring him back from the dead.

Dies messily, as you might guess, and I’m still sad about it.

Xiao Xingchen: Grew up on a secret mountain isolated from the rest of society, came down from the secret mountain to help make the world a better place, it really does not work out for him. Travels around for a while being best friends/boyfriends with Song Lan, getting poetry written about him; unfortunately then he and Xue Yang run into each other which is widely regarded as a bad move. Things get messy, Xiao Xingchen ends up with his eyes in Song Lan’s head and blind, he adopts a teenage con artist (see below) and rescues Xue Yang (who he doesn’t know is Xue Yang).

Three years of domestic bliss (sort of) ensue, with the wrinkle that while Xiao Xingchen’s sword Shuanghua can sense corpses so he can still hunt things, it has a glitch where sometimes the corpses it senses are in fact living people that Xue Yang has poisoned and cut out their tongues. Whoops.

After he kills Song Lan (whoops), Xiao Xingchen finds out from a-Qing who he’s been living with and, uh, is upset about it. Xue Yang drops the bomb of “oh yeah so you’ve been killing people this whole time and also! yeah! killed Song Lan too! eyyyy” upon which Xiao Xingchen, his entire world wrecked, kills himself and shatters his soul.

He ends the series basically fragments of soul in a little pouch being carried around by Song Lan. When I put it that way it sounds kinda funny but it’s really not.

A-Qing: Teenage con-artist who pretends to be blind and adopts Xiao Xingchen after stealing his money (he notices, but he also just gives it to her). Knew Xue Yang was bad news but didn’t know how bad. Smart cookie. Xue Yang blinds her and cuts out her tongue (he just loves doing that) after she tells on him to Xiao Xingchen; she gets her revenge by leading Wei Wuxian & co. to figuring out what’s going on, and ultimately enabling the first mortal-wounding of Xue Yang.

Unfortunately, also dies.

Song Lan: Also known as Song Zichen, rarely. A Daoist priest (I think that’s right?) and “rogue cultivator” (in the sense that he’s not affiliated with any sect). He is definitely affiliated with Xiao Xingchen. “Affiliated with.”

Ends up getting caught in the vortex of Xue Yang when his entire temple-family is killed and he’s blinded; says some harsh things and a guilty Xiao Xingchen trades out his eyes to pay him back for being the cause of Xue Yang targeting his temple, then vanishes. Song Lan spends the next long time trying to track him down, eventually finds him in mid-domestic bliss (sort of) with Xue Yang (yikes), promptly attempts to kill Xue Yang, ends up getting his tongue cut out and himself corpse-poisoned and killed by Xiao Xingchen, who thinks he is a random evil corpse instead of his best friend/ex-boyfriend. Xue Yang turns him into a zombie controlled by him. He gets better (from the control, he’s still a zombie).

Literally the only one of the Yi City Crew to make it out alive and he’s not technically alive.

MISCELLANEOUS OTHERS

Ouyang Zizhen: Part of the juniors quartet with Jin Ling, Lan Sizhui, and Lan Jingyi. A budding romantic. Very good, has the misfortune of having Sect Leader Ouyang as a dad, but at least it’s not Sect Leader Yao (see below).

Su She: Due to a confluence of factors having to do with jealousy but also class/rigid hierarchy issues, ends up as Jin Guangyao’s right hand henchman. He’s very loyal when you’re actually nice to him. Really doesn’t like Lan Wangji.

Sect Leader Yao: Mostly just there to have really bad opinions all of the time.

#anonymous #conversating #i can't believe i did this #the untamed #the sad queer cultivators show #a very biased account by me personally #but hey!!! hope it helps anon #long post for ts

159 notes · View notes

starfirette · 5 years ago

Note

Hello! Can u please write Helena Bertinelli with a Fem!reader tomboy that's a muay thai fighter and look like super cool and cold,but in the apartment its a very soft and lovely girlfriend with Helena? (And how the birds will react when them met her) Thank you,I Love you writing and HELENA IS SUCH A BAE!!! THIS GAL NEED MORE LOVE AND SUPPORT!❤

masterlist | word count: who fucking knows | 🏷 @kurreapormaranet @emofairygay | a/n: ;0 There are some things you might want to look up on youtube so you have a general idea of what’s happening. Clinch positions, tactical stand ups, thips

The rink’s seats filled massively, stretching to every wall that bounced the cheering back and forth.

The overall mission seemed simple, but it had Helena dreading this moment since Harleen explained what needed to happen.

The trust fund brat of the devilish Rossini family kidnapped the Rossini’s pride and joy: their little baby girl, Ayala. Ayala Rossini, four years old, is the Brat’s younger half sister and the new written in heir of the Rossini fortune. The Brat, Carmen, had been written out of the will after she kidnapped the new little bird Batman was keeping under his wing. She’d been sloppy and left behind all marks of her family’s (unbeknownst) involvement. She made serval costly mistakes which included Batman’s uncovering of the Rossini family’s plans of Gotham, Star, and Jump city. Half the family became arrested.

Carmen was all but disowned by her father, whom she already resented for marrying another woman so quick after the death of her mother. To get her revenge, she kidnapped Ayala.

So, Mr and Mrs Rossini employed Harley and her rag tag team of anti-hero thugs.

To get Ayala back, the girls would have to go undercover.

Their heroic deed would get them 30k each, so that was good enough. The Rossinis are precise and focuses; they’d been willing to pay as much as they had to in order to ensure the safety of their little crime lord baby.

Now Harley had her connections. She knew a guy who knew a guy who saw a friend with a girl outside of the 31 Flavors ice cream shoppe, and this girl just happened to know that Carmen spends her free time hosting epic fights in the secret tunnels of Smallville.

It’s a long ways away from Gotham, but is a perfect place to host such gatherings. The fights are frightfully violent and brutal. Also very illegal. No one would ever know that beneath the wheat and corn fields of Lil’ Ol’ Smallville county lays an intricate mafia maze.

Carmen Rossini is notorious for entertaining the winners to a “fine dinner with wine”. The rumors go that she runs an entire harem of Thai Fighting women, using them for sexual favors and personal security.

The entire mission is actually depending on that rumor.

The plan was to send in Dinah as a participant in the rink and hope she would win and earn the attention of Carmen.

But then Dinah got bronchitis. It was a nasty case, too, in which she wouldn’t stop coughing and hacking up green stuff into tissues.

The entire thing would have been called off if you hadn’t admitted that you are, in fact, trained in Muay Thai.

You’re positive that Helena would have rather kept this a secret, because she doesn’t like putting you in harms way. It’s a nuisance to have the world’s most protective girlfriend. Heaven forbid you even get a paper cut, else she’d make you wear rubber gloves while you read a book.

The entire group (save Helena) jumped for the chance to replace Dinah with you. You’d do perfect, Harley said, sounding so confident.

You intended to be flawless in the ring.

You’d not competed since high school, when Muay Thai was still just a recreational hobby. You’d had your wins and losses, but that was before you grew up to spend majority of your time fighting mafia crime lords.

Once Dinah officially relinquished her role of the mission, you took to the heavy bags. The repetitions became intense and harsh in the following weeks. You spent every night limping into bed.

Your sweet whispers that begged Helena for a soothing massage fell onto her deaf ears. She is stubborn, and she had been attempting to force you out of this competition since the day you’d agreed to it.

You were not afraid of Carmen, or anyone else she’d make you fight against. For the sake of the little Ayala, you would do this. Besides, you tell yourself, what’s the worst that could happen? With the Birds and their abilities, there isn’t much that could happen.

Nothing would slide through the cracks.

Hopefully.

The day did come faster than you’d imagined, though. The drive to Smallville was tense, especially in the backseat where Helena was frostily ignoring you.

Harleen was road raging, passing every trucker on the two way road that didn’t exceed 65 miles an hour.

“You know the speed limit is 45, right?” Montoya asked after she had taken a long drag of a cigarette. She had her legs propped up on the dash. Between her and Harley sat Cass, who was oblivious to the chaos around her as she sang along to a pop Spanish song. “Yeah, and?” Harley quipped. She cast her bright eyes towards Montoya, a wicked smile playing on her lips.“You gonna arrest me?”

Montoya couldn’t do much but sigh in defeat. If Harley didn’t mind crashing, then she didn’t either.

Between the bickering and the loud singing of the three front passengers, you and Helena were sitting silently in the very back seats. Your head was leaned up against the window which rattled as the tires of Harley’s ‘64 Starfire rolled across the gravely road.

Helena had been refusing to speak to you since the fight you got into last night. It was a real fight. She’s made it clear that she’s against you fighting in Carmen’s ring, and is especially against you joining her harem.

You’d first thought she was afraid of disloyalty; you had promised her that you wouldn’t ever cheat on her, even if it was for a mission. But it became revealed that’s not what Helena was worried about.

She feared for your life. She fears for your life every single day. No matter how small of a task, she can’t help but worry. She lost her mother, father, brothers, sisters, cousins, aunts, uncles; everyone. She’d been so helpless. She could only watch as she became the sole Bertinelli.

Helena couldn’t live on if something happened to you.

The fight ended on a confusing note. It didn’t end, per say, and you two did sleep in the same bed. However, neither of you has said a word to each other. You tried this morning, but she’d given you the snippy, cold shoulder.

As much as you hate putting her through so much anxiety, you know that you can’t back down. A girl’s life is at stake; it’s not the money you care about. Not to mention Carmen Rossini is about to make the top 50 worst criminals in Gotham County.

Harley rolled the car to a stop around a patch of gravel and dust. Everyone climbs out, rocks crunching under their shoes as they stretch and look around.

“Where is it?” Cass asks, shoving her hands in the pockets of her loose denim jacket. Her chapped lips are stained blue from the tootsy pop that she’d crunched on in the car. The soggy stick now hung from her lips, as if she had been imitating Montoya’s cigarette.

Harley locked, double checked, then re locked, then triple checked her car. She turned around, using her hands to shield her vision as she scanned the open wheat fields. “Dunno,” she admitted. “I guess I supposed someone woulda been here to meet us.”

You shifted on your feet. You wanted to try and make Helena happy before you’d at least go inside and get in the ring. The only issue is, she’ll only be happy if your forfeit now.

You would not.

Across the way, by a few yards at most, a rustling came through the wheat that came at least up to your hips.

A young man emerged; he approached the Birds with a guarded look that furrowed his thick, blond eyebrows. “You are Carmen’s guests, yes?”

He spoke with a thick accent. His honey blond hair contrasted his coffee brown features. He had a handsome face with a strong jaw, but something about him seemed off. He seemed intimidated despite being taller and broader than most.

“We are,” you answered for the Birds. “I am Y/n. I am the contestant.”

The man beckons you all forward. Helena glared at him, her hand steadily tapping the outside of her thigh. She was prepared to draw her gun and shoot anyone that could get in her way. In your way.

You tasted a bitter foam in your mouth as you attempted to stop Helena without raising too much attention.

“We––I––am here for the Carmen’s...event.”

The honey blond man tallied the Birds on his fingers, visibly distressed. “I do not thinka’ Miss Rossini expected so many of you...”

After a brief, strangled silence, the man shook his head and waved his arm along to escort you. “The bunker is just this way,” he explained. Harley and Cass walked after him.

Helena meets your eyes. Her gaze is firm, and maybe even angry. No way could you defuse that situation while still heading into the rink.

The wheat and grass crunched under your boots as you marched across the pace-by-pace clearing. A trap door in the ground lifted up swiftly, silently, as if they grease the hinges every damn day.

You remembered how this turned out for Suzie Salmon; casting one more look over your shoulder, you assured yourself with the presence of Helena.

Down the hatch, under the ground, you, Harley, Cass, Helena, and Mr Cannoli over here shuffled down the hall to a big dressing room. The entire layout felt more like a stadium then an underground crime rink. The dressing room has lush sofas and fur blankets; in the corner a SodaStream is mounted on an Ikea book table.

“Miss Rossini will join you shortly,” Cannoli-guy told you, nodding his head regally. He bowed out of the room, shutting the heavy oak door after him.

Cass jumped on the sofa. She sprawled out over the furs, kicking her muddy Chuck Taylors up. “Luxury.”

Harley snipped to Cass to get her dirty little feet off the merchandise.

You took a seat in the swivel chair in front of the large mirror. It looked like pure Broadway with the heavy lightbulbs that wreathed the glass.

“Can’t say they don’t know how to entertain a guest,” Harley squealed as she migrated to the SodaStream. “They got homemade cream soda!”

Cass jumped off the sofa to run after Harley.

Instead of facing you, Helena took a heavy seat on the couch. Her legs spread out, looking spectacularly muscular in her tight, black pants.

Unfortunately, you’re too annoyed with her to go lounge in her lap.

As much as you’d like to make amends, you know the only way to do that would be to back down. You’re going into that rink.

The door flew open at the second Harley had poured herself and Cassie a drink.

Carmen Rossini strutted in and you stared in awe. You tried not to let your jaw drop. Tall, voluptuous. Her hair is wavy auburn, her eyes deepest green.

She looked at you immediately. Reaching out for you as if you were the messiah, she chuckled. “You’re even cuter in person! Oh, sweetie, you––you do know how to drive a hard bargain. Your agent Harleen contacted me, where is she?”

Harley waved her hand from the corner. “That would be me. Ain’t Y/n a real figure?”

Scowling, Helena crossed her legs. She glared up at Carmen, and you remembered that Carmen is doing what Helena hates the most; complimenting you.

It’s not so much that Helena doesn’t like that you receive compliments; it’s just that she prefers giving them to you.

“I’m so happy to see you all here tonight,” Carmen said, clapping her hands loudly. “There’s nothing more exciting than tonight’s event. Did you know,” she cooed as she ‘boop’ed your nose, “that I’ve got people betting about two million dollars that you’ll win? I am so, so pleased that you’ve chosen to make your debut in my arena.”

You nod, your neck stiff. “I guess I’m excited?” you mumbled.

Carmen snapped her fingers. She signaled to one of her lackies to come forward. A box Is presented at your feet.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I brought you a little something. A uniform of your own, courtesy of moi. Don’t you love it? I had your photos analyzed by a fashion expert, and they designed your shorts to compliment you perfectly.”

The high waisted, Thai shorts are a deep ivory shade, with black flowers sewn into the design. They’re the most beautiful Thai shorts you’d ever seen! Your own were cute, but simple, considering that you didn’t usually think to be a fashionista while working out.

“They’re amazing,” you admitted. Over the top? Definitely. Did you expect anything else? Honestly, you’re not sure. You weren’t sure what to expect.

“Oh! I almost forgot.” Carmen, as she smiled, reached into the deep pocket of her red silk kimono-blouse. In her hands is a thickly wound prajoud, made of fine threads and paracord. The black and red jumped out at you like an old friend.

“I hope I got the rank right?”

“You did,” you say as you took the prajad from Carmen. “I could have brought my own if you’d asked.”

“It’s really not a big deal, my darling,” Carmen purred. She ran her hand through your hair, taking note of the silky feeling of each strand. “I will be watching. There will be people outside the door waiting to escort you to the arena when you’re done dressing.”

Her fingers are heavy with her bejeweled rings. The heavy tear shaped gems get tangled in your hair.

“You have ten minutes,” Carmen adds.

Helena glowered after her as she flitted out of the room. Her heels clacked down the hallway following the click of the door shutting in place.

Montoya took a long drag of her cigarette before she chortled.“You just gonna let her mark her territory like that?”

Helena didn’t say anything.

“Oi, Katniss,” Harley said loudly.

Helena’s cloudy eyes finally look to her friend. “What?”

“Carmen Rossini basically stole Y/n from you, and you let her!”

As you pulled out of your jeans, you sent Harley a little glare. “No one owned me to begin with,” you snapped.

“Hey, I’m all for women’s rights,” Harley exclaimed. “But it just seemed like—,”

“I know what it seemed like,” you snapped. “That’s the entire goddamn point, isn’t it? Get in her good graces?”

Case choked back her soda. “If that’s your idea of getting in Carmen’s creepy ‘good graces’ you gotta do better than that. You didn’t act sexy or flirt back at all!”

Helena stood to her feet. She brushed down the front of her black zip-up sweater. “I’m waiting outside,” she declares before stomping out with a frown wrung on her mouth.

Harley grimaced as the door slammed shut.

“Kid, come on,” Montoya sighed.

“I’m right,” Cass scowled. “You know that I am. We knew from the start that in order to get the little girl back, sexual favors would probably have to be granted.”

You pulled up your shorts. “Can everyone shut up?” You asked.

“What’s that?” Cass proceeded to ask, given she couldn’t talk about Carmen anymore. She pointed at the arm band that lay over the counter.

“Prajoud,” you tell her. Thank you pulled out of tour shirt. The heavy duty sports bra was already in place, but it gave you major uniboob.

“What does it do?” Cass asked again. Unable to contain her curiosity, she grabbed it off the vanity and fiddled with it.

“It’s like a belt,” you explained. “Instead of wearing a black belt, I wear a black prajad.”

“Who come up with that?” Cass asked.

“Uhm, Thai people?” Harley said as though it should be obvious. She snorted and jerked her thumb towards Cass. “Get a load of this guy.”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s alright to ask questions, guys, just try not to be annoying. ‘M a little stressed out already.”

Harley took a final gulp of her soda. “Well, I guess we know who’s not getting action tonight. And that’s Y/n!”

“Why is Helena so upset anyways? Because Carmen was flirting?”

“No,” Harley explained. “See, she’s angry because Y/n’s going out and doing this fight, one, without asking her to begin with, two, for some other little kid, and three, with a evil Italian mafia tigress. She’s projecting her childhood fear that she’ll never be able to protect anyone she loves. She’s also rash, irritable, and possessive, so it’s just a cherry on top that the plan includes Y/n using her charms to sway Carmen.”

“Bravo,” you plainly say. “It’s almost like you’re a doctor or something.”

“Yeah,” Harley grinned. “Or something.”

You pulled the prajad over your forearm. You pulled the band tight, holding the laces in your mouth so you could knot it tight with one hand. You looked in the mirror, unsure of what to think of yourself.

You kicked your boots off next.

In socks, you turned to look at Harley and Cass. “Let’s do this,” you sighed.

Helena had been waiting loyally outside, leaned up against the jamb. Her eyes flitted up and down your figure, before rolling up towards the ceiling. “Let’s do this,” you said, sounding as if you’d already lost.

Marching down the hall in tow of the honey blond Italian, you tried to make eye contact with Helena. She was good at ignoring you. You’re not sure if it’s because she’s angry, stressed, or both.

Riddled with anxiety, you wish that she would look at you, or hold your hand at the very least.

At the entrance of the arena, you could see it was filled massively to the brim of its walls. You hadn’t realized how far underground you really are until you looked at the expansive seating. The rink’s seats filled massively, stretching to every wall that bounced the cheering back and forth.

You stepped to the stairs that wound up to the cage. You could smell the sweat and the matts; above the sound of the crowd cheering, you could hear your blood rushing fast in your ears.

“Find Ayala,” you muttered in Harley’s ears. “I don’t want to be here longer than we have to be.”

Her blue eyes sparkled with mischief, but they were momentairly dulled by a silent question. “I thought...?”

“No,” you said firmly. “We shouldn’t be here any longer than we have to be,” you tell her. “I’ll stay here, I’ll do my thing; you take everyone and look for that girl. If you’re not done by the time the match is over, I’ll distract Carmen.”

Harley couldn’t respond by the time you were dragged up the stairs. Outside the cage’s gate, you were given a little table at which you could rest at. It had a pitcher of ice water, some glasses, a washcloth, and a bottle of brandy. You took a large drink of the brandy first. You peeled off your socks.

It felt like a blur as you stepped into the cage.

Your opponent was your size; she looked your weight, too. You suppose that’s fair, at least. It’s not like in the movies. The real competitions are done by weight and height.

You turned your head to give one last glance to your friends.

Helena stood beyond the cage, her hand resting over the gun holster. Her eyes were fixated on you.

You had to look away.

Tying your hair up in a tight bun, you walked out onto the mat. Your opponent did the same; meeting you half way, you two shook hands.

You didn’t exchange names; that would only make it harder.

“The rules,” a voice boomed around the stadium, “are there are no weapons to be permitted in the arena. Please watch as the fighters return to their corners then begin the match on the sound of the bell. The match will consist of two rounds, each lasting seven minutes.”

You hovered in the corner of the cage. You stretched and jogged in place. You have enough training for this. You do. You know that you can do it; hopefully, you will.

The bell rang. You take a massive sprint out into the middle of the ring where your opponent had already paced out.

You wound up a punch. Your feet lifted off the mat as you leap into the air, and you delivered the blow to the side of her face.

Her teeth crunched under the impact. It was such a hit that you saw it spew out of her mouth, and hit the cage.

The crowd exploded into a frenzy.

Hovering at your face your hands remained in constant motion. Her kicks were well calculated and her movements tactical. She gave away all of her tricks, though, by looking twice at the target she would next go for. If she looked at your side once too many times, you would crouch and use your arms to block your ribcage.

The sweat that built up made the more precise attacks difficult. Your punch began sliding off her face, keeping you staggering forward, and in her wide open range.

You were struck once, twice, then thrice on your left cheek. It sent blood and saliva dribbling down your chin.

Your prajad began to slip as you struggled to regain your balance.

The girl’s long leg extended forward. Her foot jabbed a strong thip into the center of your stomach, practically digging against your bladder.

The bell rang, then, marking the end of the first round.

You fell into your corner with a wheezing gasp. You crawled for the little table. You drank directly from the pitcher.

You looked back to the crowd, half expecting to see a flash of unfamiliar faces.

Helena still remained at the ringside. Her hands are clenched through the cage, and her eyes are desperate to meet yours. You were confused. Why hadn’t she left with Harley? Did Harley not need her? Or did she want to stay and watch?

You felt stronger with her just a few yards away.

You staggered to your legs, where your knees wobbled like jello on a plate.

The two minutes of rest time had ended, and the bell rang once more. You slid back rather than go for her first.

She sauntered to you like a bear, her shoulders hunched and her fists close to her face. She swung hooks and uppercuts that you could just barely dodge. You were close to slipping backwards a few times.

“Y/n, watch out!” Helena shouted suddenly.

You couldn’t see the girl racing towards you like a battering ram through your blurry vision. Her fist slammed over your temple. You swore you could feel your brain tumbling around your skull as you fell to the floor.

You clutched your ear with your bare hands. Pain gushed out of you like water. You thought you could see it, visibly, as it poured down bright green and crystalline.

It wasn’t there; it was the spots dancing in front of you. Disorientation is a real bitch.

One tactical standup later, you’re back up on your feet. You pushed yourself forward, forcing the remaining energy you had out of your hands. You grabbed the girl by her long pony tail and dragged her into a tight clinch. She attempted to swim out of it; the friction of her wrists against your neck burned.

You tugged her down, driving a sharp knee into her stomach. She stayed in your clinch for a long time, gasping for air as she couldn’t evade the knees. You finally released her. She staggers back. She falls onto her ass, visibly shaken up and at a loss for breath.

The crowd began to scream at you. Some did a countdown, others urged the other girl to get back up.

It was too late for her.

The bell rang, marking the end of the seven minutes, as well as the second round. She had lost, and you had won.

You limped towards her. Despite your own pain, you lifted the girl onto her feet.

“Good game?” she rasped.

“Hell yeah,” you wheezed.

It felt like the ultimate orgasm to go back and gulp down the water. The cold, damp washcloth made a good compress for your busted lip. You judged by the twitching of your left eyelid that you had a pretty sizable welt there.

Helena ran to meet you as you limped down the stairs out of the cage. She threw her arms around you tightly. “You’re alright,” she gasped.

You tried to hug her back. Your arm hung loosely over her lower back as you tried to laugh. “Did you doubt that I would be?” you asked her. “Where’s Harley and Cass? Montoya?”

“They went to find the girl,” Helena said in your ear. “I couldn’t leave you...I had to stay and watch. I had to make sure.”

She pressed a kiss into the crook of your neck. “Let’s go,” you said firmly, “before Carmen comes for us.”

Helena helped you leave the arena. By the time you vanished, the stadium was already announcing it’s second match, featuring a woman named Selina. The people went into a hectic frenzy of excitement when Selina’s name was announced over the speakers. You knew as you were walking out she would never be able to escape this place.

Honey-blond-haired Italian guy jogged to keep up with you. “Miss Carmen asks that you wait in the dressing room,” he called out. “Yeah, yeah,” Helena called out. “We’ll be there.”

He followed you down the hallway, keeping several paces back to maintain a steady watching distance. He paused as he watched you and Helena head straight into the dressing room.

Sitting on the sofa inside is Harley, Cass, and a little girl sleeping in Harley’s arms. You were shocked. For a four year old girl, Ayala was incredibly small and fragile looking. Her olive skin and auburn hair is just like her elder sister’s. The hollows beneath her eyes are dark and colored by her greenish veins.

“Let’s scadadle,” Harley hissed as she rose to her feet, though struggling to keep Ayala in her arms.

You all rushed out of the hallway, quickly as to make it before Carmen could come back from the arena.

“Where’s the exit?” Cass asked.

“It’s this way,” Helena says. She pointed straight down the hallway. “The car’s waiting for us above the trap door.”

“Yeah, unless someone stole it,” Cass mocked. “What if we get locked in? Like in Hotel California?”

You could hardly begin to understand what Cass was saying. Her words were jumbles of sounds and her figure a blur of her dark hair and red jacket.

“We’re not getting locked in,” Harley exclaimed. “Let’s just get outta here!”

Helena climbed up the ladder first. She punched the door up, then open. “Give me the kid,” she said quietly.

Harley struggled to lift Ayala up.

Helena scooped her easily into her strong arms. Ayala stirred awake and whined as she became more and more aware. “I want to go home,” she mumbled, her voice quiet and empty.

“We’re taking you home, pumpkin,” Helena assured the little girl. “I’ve got you.”

As Cass was going up the ladder, a loud clatter arose down the tunnel. ��Uh oh, spaghetti-os,” Harley whistled. She pushed you up the ladder next. “I’ll meet you guys up there,” she promised, sounding entirely confident. “Montoya,” she whistled between her teeth. “Feel like doing some target practice?”

It was the first time all day that Montoya smiled.

As you climbed up, you heard Harley’s shrill laugh between the shots of two, little handguns.

“Into the car,” you wheezed to Cassie. She looped her arms around your waist to help you limp into your seat. “Buckled in?” you heard Helena ask the little girl. She looked so shy despite all that’s going on. The curls of her hair were brushed behind her ear as Helena held her tightly. “You’re going back to your parents.”

Harley came running out seconds later. “Let’s get this show on the road,” she exclaimed.

“You have the keys!” Cassie shouted back.

Harley jumped into the drivers seat. She honked the horn loudly. “Renee, let’s move it!”

Montoya was limping a few feet away, struggling to keep up Harley’s pace. She crawled inside and as soon as she did, Harley pressed the gas, and sped away.

“Smoking is so bad for you, you know that, right?” Harley chastised. “Maybe if you just used the nicotine patches I bought you for Christmas, then you wouldn’t have so much trouble keeping up with us.”

“Take the patches,” Montoya huffed, “and shove them up your ass.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. You leaned back into the headrest of the rear seats. Helena held Ayala beside you, stroking her hair gently as she held her cellphone to Ayala’s ear. Her parents were on the other end, and you could hear the cries of relief.

You met Helena’s gaze, and you managed a smile on your busted mouth.

“I love you,” you mouth to her.

“I love you, too,” she replied.

#helena bertinelli x reader #helena bertinelli imagine #my helena babes #crossbow killer #crossbow killer x reader #huntress x reader #huntress imagine #dceu imagine #dceu x reader #birds of prey x reader #birds of prey imagine #birds of prey #mary elizabeth winstead #starfirette writes

75 notes · View notes

fanficwriter013 · 5 years ago

Text

The Tower: The Queen of Asgard - 28

The Tower: The Queen of Asgard An Avengers Fanfic

Series Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Pairing: Avengers x OFC, Bruce Banner x Bucky Barnes x Clint Barton x Wanda Maximoff x Steve Rogers x Natasha Romanoff x Tony Stark x Thor x Sam Wilson x OFC (Elly Cooper)

Word Count: 4857

Warnings: Alcohol, strippers, body shots, smut (Bisexual orgy, oral, vaginal, and anal sex. Thought sharing. Multiple Orgasms)

Synopsis: The twins are now three and while the Avengers know that Clint and Thor are the biological father’s none of them know or care which blond, blue-eyed baby is related to which man. When Riley gets the power to control wind and it becomes evident that she is the heir to the Asgardian throne, Elly, Steve, Thor, and Tony take the twins to Asgard to train her.

Not every Asgardian is happy with their king’s choice of consort, nor the impurity of the heir’s blood. While others expect Thor to make things more official. What’s clear is, the role of Queen of Asgard is not easily filled.

Author’s Note: Written with @avengerscompound whom lets me send her nasty photos even though she doesn’t really want to see them

Chapter 28: The Bachelor Party

Clarke enjoyed going through my Asgardian closest and while I got dressed for the bachelor party, she chose both clothes to wear to the party and something to wear to the bonding ceremony.

In the end, I chose a two-piece outfit that was a matching skirt and top. It was almost harem-style in that the top was a halter neck in a sheer white fabric. The cleavage was low and it wrapped just low enough to support my breasts and was trimmed with gold. The skirt was the same sheer white material with gold trim and reached the floor, but sat low on my hips thanks to a thick gold waistband.

The rest of the group were dressed in a mix of things. Natasha was wearing something equally revealing but looked more like armor and was in a rust-red leather and gold plate. The skirt was so short that if she bent over you could see her thong.

Wanda, on the other hand, was just in her casual hang around the house clothing of black skirt, long black socks, and red corset. Tony wore a suit over a t-shirt and sneakers. Bruce wore a thin lavender tunic over loose-fitting pants. Thor was in armor. Clint wore jeans and a t-shirt but had an almost collar-like choker on. Sam, Bucky, and Steve were just in button-up shirts and dress pants, but none had the buttons all the way up and their sleeves were rolled up.

We all ate dinner in one of the larger dining rooms with our friends and the twins. It wasn’t the feast of the week before, but it was still a large and decadent event. This time only seven courses though. The twins had been having so much fun with everyone there that by the time we got them to bed, they just crashed out.

When we were confident they were definitely asleep, Sif opened the door and a procession of strippers came and a few wait staff began to circulate with drinks. The envoy had brought back some alcohol from Earth so we could all drink without fear of alcohol poisoning.

I sat cuddling with Nat and drinking while I watched the dancers. Everyone was relaxed and having a good time with their friends and enjoying the entertainment, except for Bruce. He stood awkwardly at the side of the room, not really looking at the dancers and holding a drink but not actually drinking it.

“B, come here, my loves,” I called to him, waving him over.

He moved around the back of the room and sat down next to me curling in and turning away from the rest of the group.

“I got you. It’s just us, you can relax.” I said gently, holding him close to me.

We were sitting like that for 20 minutes or so. Bruce may have relaxed a little, but it was very little. The strippers, after spending the day naked with a stranger painting him had put his anxiety into overdrive, which had put Hulk in protective mode and he kept pushing on Bruce to see if he was okay, even though that was making it worse.

“Why isn’t there anyone dancing?” Tony asked the room loudly.

I looked up at him. “You wanna dance?”

“Maybe,” he said. “Yes.”

I leaned into Bruce’s ear and took his hand and put it on the bare skin on my waist. “You wanna dance with Tony?” I whispered. He made a choked squeak sound and his fingers flexed on my side. “What kind of noise was that, Doctor Banner?” I whispered. He shook his head and pressed a kiss to his neck. “Did you want to watch Tony and I dance for a little while?” I whispered. He shook his head again, making the same noise but deeper this time. I kissed his neck slowly and rubbed his bicep. “What do you want?”

He looked up at me, his eyes now both deep green. I chuckled and shook my head affectionately. “Hey, Big Guy. Things a little too much fun right now, huh?” I said moving his hand around to the middle of my back. He nodded and looked around a little. “Can we come to a compromise? You can come out for the party if you agree to let Bruce enjoy some of it too?”

“Okay,” he grumbled.

I got up and led him to a quieter part of the room and helped him off with his tunic. “See you soon,” I said and kissed his cheek, standing back to give Hulk room.

The transformation was surprisingly quick and we were all greeted by a smiling and excited looking Hulk. “Party!” He rumbled and patted me affectionately on the head before going over to watch the dancers.

I moved over to Tony and he pulled me into his arms. “Let’s dance then.” He said.

I wrapped my arms around his neck and we started to move together. Other people joined us on the floor.

“This is nice,” Tony said.

“Mmm… We don’t do this too often. And when we do it’s at a thing,” I agreed. “Which means cameras.”

“No cameras here,” he said, tucking a lock of my hair behind my ear. “So we can do any kind of dancing we want to.”

“Title of your sex tape,” Clint teased as he twirled Wanda beside us.

“You’d know. You’re in it.” I shot back.

I moved my knee between Tony’s and he put his hand in the middle of my back as I started to grind on him.

“If you’re gonna dirty dance, make sure you don’t do the lift,” Clint teased. “You’ll put the old man’s back out.”

“You better watch it Barton, or I’ll put your back out.” Tony countered.

Clint quirked his eyebrows at Tony and bit his bottom lip and I completely lost it laughing.

“I don’t know about anyone else,” Clint said. “But I think with what Natasha and El are wearing, we should be taking body shots off them.”

“Mm… I think that sounds like a great idea.” Tony agreed, running his hand around my hip and over my stomach.

“Alright. I’m game.” Natasha said getting up and heading to the bar. I chuckled and followed after her and we both stretched out on the countertop, our heads touching.

After a little discussion with Sif, some tequila from earth was brought out, along with salt and a fruit that was more sweet than sour, but very juicy was cut up. I put a wedge in my mouth and a few of our friends started with the body shots off us. Fury taking one off of Nat, while Jax took one off of me. Scott and Hill took turns. Coulson and Hope. Even T’Challa took one of Nat.

Eventually Tony muscled his way over to me, pushing Fandral away from me. “Mine.” He said running his hands down my stomach. He ran a line of salt along my cleavage and filled my belly button with tequila before slowly running his tongue over the line of salt. I tangled my hands in his hair as he sucked the liquid from my belly button and when he came up to take the fruit from my mouth I let it go and pulled him down into a hungry kiss. He pulled me up to him a little so my back arched and his tongue pushed into my mouth so I could taste the salt and alcohol.

“Alright. Quit hogging.” Clint teased, muscling Tony out of the way. “Reload.”

Tony moved up to Natasha as Clint ran the salt down my stomach and filled my belly button.

He put one hand on my hip but wasted no time, leaning in and roughly and sloppily licking up the salt and sucking up the alcohol. He leaned up to take the fruit but I dropped it again and kissed him the same way he took the shot. He pulled me up against him, his hands bunching in my hair and making a soft rumbling sound. I pulled back with a gasp. “What are you guys trying to do to me?” I whispered.

“Just having fun, princess.” He smirked, giving my thigh a squeeze and letting me back down on the bar.

“Okay, my turn. You go to Nat.” Wanda said, moving up.

She set up the salt and tequila and as she licked over my skin she flicked her fingers and set a little ball of pink energy over my skin, making me prickle and squirm under her. I started taking shallow breaths and squeezing my legs together and before she had even made it to the fruit I’d let it go. She smiled lovingly at me and leaned in, kissing me deeply.

As we kissed, Sam was already running the salt along my cleavage. “Alright, alright. My go, Wan.” He said.

She pulled back and pressed a kiss to my forehead before moving up to take a shot of Natasha.

“I’m gonna be a huge tease,” Sam said as he filled my belly button with the cold liquid.

“Okay,” I smirked, biting into a piece of the fruit.

He ran his fingers down my sides, barely even touching my skin and taking his time as he moved towards the salt. My skin broke out in goosebumps and I squirmed on the bar, whining a little.

When he finally leaned in to lick up the salt, he did it in small, kitten licks, dragging the process out and making me shiver all over. I moaned and arched my back up, the liquid in my belly button spilling over the sides and making a wet trail over my stomach.

Sam licked it up with a broad swipe and sucked slowly on my skin.

“Fuck!” I gasped, dropping the fruit so it fell to the floor and rolled away.

Sam pulled back and looked down at me. “Good thing we didn’t really want that anyway.” He teased.

In an instant, he was kissing me. I wrapped my arms around him and dug my fingers into his back as he pulled me flush against me and kissed me passionately. I moaned into his lips and our tongues came out and swirled together.

“Alright, you two.” Bucky teased. “There’s a line here.”

I pulled back slowly, looking up into Sam’s eyes, feeling breathless and extremely turned on.

“Come on, man,” Sam teased.

“Gotta share, Sammy,” Bucky said, patting Sam’s hip. “And look, Nat’s already set up and waitin’ for ya.”

He looked over at Natasha and smirked. “Well, alright.” He said letting me down and moving to Natasha.

As Bucky set up the salt and alcohol I put my hand on his hip and flexed my fingers. He used mead, which was warm on my skin compared to the tequila

“Getting handsy?” He asked as he offered me a piece of the fruit.

“Mm-hmm…” I hummed.

“Mm-hmm…” He teased, dropping down to lick the salt off my skin. He took his time, running his tongue over my stomach while his fingers teased my sides. I started trembling ever so slightly and when he finally moved to suck up the alcohol, I tightened my hand in his hair and arched my back, pushing myself up to him more.

He placed small kisses on his way up to get the fruit and as he went for it, I let it fall. He wrapped me in his arms and pulled me into a deep kiss. He smiled into it and his hands spread out on my back. I hummed softly and we both very slowly pulled back.

“Hey, doll,” he said looking down at me.

“Hey, Buck.” I said and brushed his hair back from his face.

“Next. Come on.” Steve said, nudging Bucky.

“Fine, punk.” Bucky teased, letting me back down onto the bar and moving up to Natasha.

I giggled and stretched out as Steve ran a line of salt along my neck.

“Should I even pretend with the fruit?” I asked as he filled my belly button with mead.

“Nope,” he said simply.

He put his hand on my hip and looked down at me.

“You gonna go slow?” I asked.

“Depends.”

“On what?”

He smirked and flexed his fingers. “Manners.”

He then began to tortuously drag out the whole process. Ghosting his lips over my skin. Teasing his hands over me. Licking up the salt with small kitten licks.

My skin prickled and I squirmed under him, panting a little as my nipples hardened and I started getting really wet. “Please, Steve.” I begged.

That little word triggered a shift. He sucked the alcohol from my skin and moved up. He paused, sucking on my throat for a moment, before putting his hand at the base of my spine and dragging me into a deep kiss. I wrapped my arms around him and for a moment I forgot we weren’t in the middle of the living room with a bunch of other people. ��It was just Steve and I kissing.

He pulled back and looked into my eyes. “Hello, sweetheart. Having some fun?”

“Mm… I am very turned on right now.” I answered.

“Then it sounds like it’s my turn.” Thor chuckled, moving up.

Steve let me go and moved to the side and I lay back. “Alright, my love,” I said.

He placed a hand on my hip and ran a light current through me from his fingertips.

“Oh,” I gasped softly.

“Mm… we are going to have some fun, my queen.” He teased.

He set up the drink and put his other hand on my thigh. The current ran from his hand at my hip, through my stomach, and to the hand he had on my thigh and made my muscles clench involuntarily. I jerked a little and gasped gently.

“You’re okay?” He asked.

“Mm…” I hummed and nodded my head.

He leaned down kissing my neck, just above where he’d run the salt. I moaned softly as he sucked on my skin and I gripped his bicep.

“Oh, get a room.” Clint yelled.

Thor chuckled. It was a deep rumble of a sound and little sparks danced over my skin. He licked down over the salt, painfully slowly, adding to the charge building in me.

“Thor,” I whimpered. “You’re teasing me.”

“And what would you have me do?” He asked.

“Everything.” I whimpered.

“Everything?” He teased. “In front of all these people?”

I squeezed my eyes shut and shook my head, which made him chuckle again. He went back to teasing me slowly, making me feel like a live wire. Natasha reached behind her and caressed my cheek, and I leaned into it a little. He sent little ripples of electricity through me, that made my muscles clench in different ways and had me squirming on the bar, completely desperate for some relief.

Finally, he lapped up the salt roughly and drank the alcohol from my stomach, sucking on my skin hard enough to mark it. I groaned and tugged on his hair, about ready to beg him to just take me on the bar in front of everyone. He brought his lips to mine and as we kissed, sparked radiated off him.

When he pulled back he smiled down at me.

“You are the biggest tease in the universe.” I huffed.

He shrugged. “It comes with the crown.”

“Anyone want to do a shot off of me and not make it foreplay?” I asked.

“Yeah, me,” Clarke said. She came over and did a shot off of my stomach. I giggled as she took the fruit and poked me in the side.

I looked over at Hulk who had been watching on, quite entertained. “You or Bruce want to have a go, Big Guy?”

“Hulk want,” Hulk said patting his chest.

“Come on over then.” I said.

I stretched out and Clint set up the salt and alcohol for Hulk. He moved in close and put a giant thumb over my side. “What do?” He rumbled.

You gotta lick up the salt, then drink this drink here -” Clint said poking my stomach. “Then you come up and take the fruit from El’s mouth with your mouth.”

Hulk nodded and looked down at me. “Hulk gentle.”

“I know, honey. I trust you.” I said, patting his hand and putting a whole piece of fruit in my mouth.

He moved very slowly, trying to be gentle as his tongue ran over my stomach and dipped into my belly button. When he moved up to get the fruit I let it go and cupped both sides of his jaw, and planted a wet smack of a kiss on his lips. He pulled back chuckling and blushing a darker green.

“Okay,” I said, sitting up. “Wanna dance?”

He nodded and I climbed off the bar and pulled Hulk around the dance floor in a fast pace dance, letting him spin me and lift me up. Clint cut in and I went and flopped down on the couch breathless.

I had a drink and spoke with Clarke and Hope for a while and then the Hulk lumbered over and sat beside me. One of the dancers came over and started giving him his own little private dance and he watched on wide-eyed.

When she was mostly naked and finishing up her dance it was getting quite late and I thought it was a good time to ask to get Bruce back, so he might have a chance to enjoy the party too.

“You like that, big guy?” I asked.

He grunted and nodded his head.

“You think that Bruce can come back now and enjoy some of the party too before we all head to bed?” I asked.

Hulk pouted for a moment before agreeing after I told him that if he behaved Bruce might let him share when we said our goodbyes before we had to go into isolation. When he’d shrunk back down, I pounced on him.

“Oh, hello.” He said, a little startled, but closing his arms around me.

“Welcome back,” I said, peppering his cheeks with kisses.

He glanced around the room, and his cheeks flushed pink. “That person is naked.” He whispered.

“She stripped for the Hulk,” I said.

“Wh- she did?” He stammered.

“Mm-hmm. Hulk had a nice time. We danced. You want to dance?” I asked.

“Uh…” He said. “No, thank you.”

“What do you want to do?” I asked walking my fingers up his bare chest. “It’s all on the table.”

“All?”

“Mm-hmm…” I hummed, kissing his neck.

“She’s not kidding. They’ve worked me and El up quite nicely.” Natasha said.

“And we’ll take care of it.” Thor teased.

“Like there was any question of that.” Tony said.

“Come here, Tony and convince Bruce to relax,” I said. “I want to dance.”

Tony came over and flopped down directly on top of Bruce and Thor came and sat beside them. I got up and grabbed Steve’s hand. “Come on.”

He followed after me and spun me into his arms when we got to the dance floor. We started to slowly move to the music and he rested his cheek on the top of my head as I lay my cheek on his chest. “You get to have everything, Steve.”

“Everything.” He repeated.

“Are you happy?”

He ran his hand up to the middle of my back and I looked up at him. “I think so.”

“Only think?”

“I’m nervous, El.” He said softly.

“What about?”

He shook his head a little. “Being alone.”

“For the prep stage, you mean?”

He nodded. “Yes, and the ceremony.”

“Well, you’ll have Scott with you. And then after, you never have to be alone again.”

He leaned down and kissed me tenderly, relaxing into me a little more and humming against my lips. We kept swaying and he slowly pulled back.

“Did you dance with Bucky?” I asked.

“Mm-hmm. He made me.”

I chuckled. “That’s good. It’s been a long time coming. You know the next time you dance with him, he’ll be your husband.”

He made a soft little sound and his eyes shimmered. “I keep thinking that something will happen to stop it.”

I shook my head. “It won’t. You get to have everything.”

He smiled contentedly and rested his cheek against me as we swayed to the music. When the song finished Bucky took over and the two of us danced a more energetic number together. When we were done I was sweaty and starting to want the party to be over for real.

I went back over the Bruce and sat in his lap. “You having fun yet?”

“I want too. But…” He trailed off.

“Who’s preventing it? The strippers?” I asked. He flushed and looked down. “That… was not the reaction I was expecting.” I said which made him turn an even darker shade of red. “You’re allowed to like them,” I whispered. He made an almost squeak sound and flexed his fingers on my hip. “Which one do you like the most?”

“The same one you do, El,” Wanda said.

I called her over and asked if she minded giving a dance to the two of us. She began to gyrate in front of Bruce and me, running her hands over her body.

“Being trouble, El?” Steve teased.

“Always,” I said, not taking my eyes off the stripper as she began to lose clothes.

“Just watch the colors.” He warned.

She teased her hands up our arms as she leaned over us. Bruce shifted a little and his eyes flicked around. I adjusted how I was sitting, so I was directly on top of his lap, and I wrapped his arms around my waist. I leaned back against his shoulder so my lips brushed over the shell of his ear. “There, now the only one who will know how your body is reacting is me. You’re totally safe. You can even touch me if you feel the urge.” I whispered.

He rested his forehead against my shoulder and just peeked over at the dancer. As she danced for use I could feel his erection growing. “El.” He rumbled against my ear. “You think we can go soon?”

I didn’t even need to react. I assume Wanda had felt his need too and passed it on to Steve because he cleared his throat loudly. “Thank you for coming such a long way to celebrate with us, friends. We all are so grateful to have you. Right now though, we have some goodbyes to say due to tradition, so we are going to bid you all goodnight. Some of us will see you in the morning. To the others, we’ll see you at the ceremony. Feel free to stay here as long as you like enjoying the company and entertainment. When you’re ready to crash, let Sif or one of the Warriors Three know and they’ll take you to your lodgings.”

We got up wishing everyone goodnight and beelined into Thor’s room. We all shed our clothes very quickly. Some like Clint just quickly and awkwardly stripping and kicking his clothes across the room. While others like Natasha and Steve stripped each other as they kissed.

We climbed up onto Thor’s bed and for a while, it was just touching and kissing. There was no rhyme or reason to it. I would be kissing Wanda and then Clint would touch my shoulder and I’d turn and start kissing him. We each spent time comparing the artwork on our bodies seeing the parts that were the same and which were different. Exploring them with our eyes and hands and mouths. Slowly we seemed to pair off, still staying close to the group, so much so that even in our paired states it was easy to touch or kiss the people next to us, but it was definite pairing.

The other thing that seemed to have happened was each person who had assumed they were going to outlive most of the rest was losing everyone, was with someone who had a normal human lifespan. Clint was with Bruce, Steve with Wanda, Natasha with Sam, Tony with Thor, while I was with Bucky.

Bucky let me push him on his back and I began kissing my way up his chest as I straddled his waist. “Remember when we met, Bucky?” I asked as I swirled my tongue over his nipple.

“Mm-hmm…” He hummed, as he ran his hand down my sides and gripped my hips. “You had no pants on and you reeked of sex.”

“Mmm, my favorite way to be,” I said and leaned in and kissed him deeply. Steve reached over and ran his hand along my shoulder. Wanda sat in his lap and they were slowly kissing.

As I trailed kisses down Bucky’s jaw to his neck he rutted up under me. “You know that day when you got taken. I thought it was my fault.”

I stopped what I was doing and looked down at him. “Why did you think that?”

“We kissed and I liked you and right away you got taken.” He said. “Back then, it was like I knew I didn’t get to keep people, and you were the first one I was going to lose.”

I smiled at him and raised myself up. I took his cock in my hand and lowered myself back down on it. “You never have to lose any of us.” I groaned as he filled me. I leaned over him, looking down into his eyes. “Even when you’re super sick of us.”

“Oh no.” He teased and pulled me down into a hard kiss.

I started to ride him, moving up and down on his cock in quick deliberate moves, squeezing his shaft my walls as I bounced. Around us, the room was becoming louder with the sounds of sex. Wanda and Steve sat in lotus. Wanda rolling her hips in Steve’s lap as they kissed. They would each reach out to the people near them like they were trying to draw them in and connect with them too. Clint was riding Bruce’s cock, his head falling back as he ran his hands over Bruce’s chest. Bruce looked up at him with his jaw clenched like he was just trying to hold on for the ride. Tony had Thor on all fours and was fucking him from behind. Thor would reach behind him and take Tony’s hand and send a current running through them, or he’d reach over and touch Sam, who had his hands pinned down while Natasha rode him.

Bucky thrust up into me as I moved and I started to move faster. It was like I was in a race to get him off, sweat beaded on my skin as heat radiated off both of us. He flipped me suddenly and cradled my shoulders as he looked down into my eyes. “Slow down, doll,” he said. “I’m not going anywhere either. We have all the time in the world.”

He started to roll his hips into mine, slowly and deeply. I dug my hands into his back and Wanda reached over and took my hand. We linked fingers and her eyes glowed pink and all at once I could feel everything. Everyone in the room. The pleasure they felt. Their fears. Their hopes. How in love they were. The relief those were that expected loss were feeling and the fearful excitement everyone else had. I could feel the way Hulk pressed on Bruce and the pain Tony had in his chest and right arm. I keened and arched up under Bucky, my nails digging into his skin. My senses were overwhelmed, I came almost instantaneously but Bucky didn’t ease up. He pulled back and looked down into my eyes. “El, look at me.” He whispered.

I looked into his eyes and tethered myself to him. I still felt everything thanks to Wanda but now my connection to Bucky was even greater. He had pain and fear too, but his relief and love overwhelmed almost everything else. “God, I love you, Bucky.” I moaned.

“I love you too, Elly.” He rumbled, picking up his pace.

I was brought apart again and again. Each time someone else in the room came it dragged me over with them. I didn’t know how Wanda could handle it. I finally knew why she was always so spent by the time we were done. I completely lost count of how many times I came or even if by the end I wasn’t just having one long drawn out orgasm but by the time Bucky’s hips jerked forward and he emptied inside me all I could do was weakly hold on to him as I looked into his blue eyes.

He slipped out and pulled me into his arms. I was only half aware that Wanda, Steve, Bruce, and Clint were all already cuddled into the pile that Bucky lifted me into. Wanda curled up next to me and I was asleep before the covers were on us.

//NEXT

139 notes · View notes

ordonianhero · 5 years ago

Text

The reunion.

Rate: T for some mature content.

-so in the spirit of thanksgiving, I give you this quick one shot fic. Time, Malon join Their blood to join thanksgiving in Ordon village with him. With one big family reunion with Rusl, Uki, Colin and the little sister. Some sappy LU moment stuff. Hope you enjoy. -

Twilight nervously puttered about his own kitchen making a pie for the gathering later that day. Why was he nervous. He knew his old man had known Rusl and entrusted him with the care of raising him. Maybe it was more that this would be his mother first time here. Seeing where he lived and raised. Placing the pie in the oven. He was so lost in his thoughts, he hadn’t hear them enter his house. It was only when Malon chirped about how it remind her of Times place. Heart skipped a beat. Then a strong arm wrapped around his shoulder, giving it a slight squeeze. “Ah yes, in some ways it is my dear.” the older Hylian stated. Twilight shoved him off. “Come off of it...” he blurts. The older Hylian then just took to ruffling his son’s hair. “Very homey I’d say.”

Twilight then ducked out from his grasp and goes about to cleaning up his cooking mess. Malon looking about at the table, littered with books and pictures. He smiled seeing her amused with his stuff. “Yup, he is surely our blood. Strong farmer instincts and love of all things animals.” She commented on the goat picture. He blushed and set to washing a few dishes. Time leaned up against the kitchen counter. “Sure is.” Giving twilight a wink. “Okay stop it you two, I can’t with your affection. It’s distracting.” Twilight chuckled. Gently cleaning out a bowl he used for pie makings. “Well that’s good, cause I would of sworn you were nervous about something.” Time said, his one good eye looking over at twilight. Twilight, having non of it take a wet rag and readies it to whip time with. “Out of my kitchen you!” With a snap of the towel hitting Time on the side. Malon giggling at the scene. Time dodging and giving Twilight a disapproving look. “Oi!” He barked. Malon then stepped in snatching up the towel from Twilight and proceeds to help dry the dishes. “But honestly honey. Why are you nervous?” She asked him. Twilight, looking shy, rubbed the back of his head. “Well this the first time I have everyone who matters to me under one roof.” He spoke softly. She smiled and so did Time. Their boy was something. After some quietness, twilight whipped around, finger pointing at Time and blurts our “one slice, not the whole damn pie this time! It’s bad enough wild has a nasty sweet foodie tooth. Don’t need to look after you on that.” Malon laughed, she knew full well her husband’s sweet tooth. “And what about you though?” She asked, out of curiosity if her son’s habits. “He has a spicy tooth this one has.” Chuckled Time. Malon have a surprised looked. “I blame Wild for that, him and that Goron spice stuff he uses.” Twilight continued.

As the day grew later, the pie was cooling. Malon and Time sitting comfortably, as Twilight disappeared up to the third floor for some space. Time was nose deep in one of Twilight’s books, Malon looking over his shoulder. “You think he is okay?” She asked her husband. Time looked up from the book and then to the third floor. “Yeah, he just an anxious person sometimes. However it tis good to see him in his own space. He is a completely different person. Compared to when he is out with the rest of us Links. I saw it at Lon Lon ranch how at home he felt and he dropped that silly stoic persona.” He explained to his wife. “Even around Wild he can be brash, but he also just drops that and teases the kid.” He chuckled. Twilight then came down from the loft area, wearing a more casual look then the Ordon garb he was sporting. She smiled at how handsome he looked in it. “Ah, so uh ready to get a little larger?” He awkwardly chucked. The looked at each other and nodded. Twilight picked up the pie and they made their way out the door.

Once outside the house and walking into Ordon village. Malon caught that Twilight was not wearing shoes. “He’s not-“ Time pauses her from finishing what she was going to say. “That just him.” The went down past a small stream and then up to a house with the sign that read who lived there. Now Time and Malon were the ones nervous. This would be their first time meeting his adopted family, whom they entrusted to raise their kid. Twilight look back at them as they awkward smiled back at him. He just laughed and rolled his eyes. Opening up the door to the house. “I have brought pie!” He announced. They followed behind him. “Ooo pie! Said a young man, about Twilight’s hieight. He took the pie, then see the two other guest. “Hello?!” He said greeting them. “Ah, yes, this Uh Time and Malon.” Twilight said, introducing them. Rusl step in and stuck his hand out, Time taking it. “Ah, I wondered when I would see you again. Hero of Time.” Rusl had some history with Time back in the day. Uli also popped in and nodded at them both. Then twilight fling and arm around the younger boy. “This would be Colin, not so little anymore. Then there Rusl, and wife Uli.” He paused and looked about. There was a little young girl busy playing with her toys. “Ah, and Saria.” Twilight said smiling. Time softly smiled, in remembering his own Saria. Malon caught that. “Well come on in and make your self comfortable.” said Rusl inviting them in. Twilight close the door. Colin said some words to twilight, which resorted to him getting a light whack on the head by Twilight. Time and Malon took a seat, Uli went about going back to finishing up some cooking. Colin stuck by Twilight’s side as Twilight stood with arms crossed. Rusl offered up some refreshments. Which Time and Malon accepted. Rusl eyed twilight. Who put his hand up to decline. “Well isn’t this something.” Rusl said, finally taking a seat for himself. Twilight feeling uncomfortable, went into the kitchen to help Uli out. “Sure is..” responded Time. Rusl and Time dove into a conversation, catching up on old times.

Twilight every once in a while would sneak in a few words to the conversation. Often some witty or sassy comment. Which resulted in Colin laughing. Rusl laughing as well. Time smiled as well as Malon. “Oi, mr. Goofball.” Rusl joked at Twilight. “Eh?! What?” He replied, helping Uli work on stuffing. “You know Shad published that book about you.” Rusl said looking towards twilight. “Oh Hylia, why?!” Groans Twilight. “Cause you are filled with so much knowledge and probably inspire a few folks out there.” Colin said. Rusl got up and grabbed a book and handed it over to time and Malon. Time set his drink down and opened up the book, flipping through the pages. “I am so proud of this young man. Despite all that he went through, he still holds a light and not super hardened.” Rusl commented. Twilight blushed, Uli chuckled. “We are blessed he is as open as he is with us with things.” She commented on the subject. Time handed the book over to Malon. He picked up his drink and smiled. “Well I hope to see more of that. I think sometimes he forget to relax and just locks himself up.” He explained to Rusl. There was a loud groan from the kitchen. Colin let out another laugh. “Can’t take being gushed over?!” He said while laughing. “Never could.” Rusl continued. Twilight shoots Rusl a look. “It’s uncomfortable, thanks.” And the house erupted in a roar of laughter.

When they all sat down for dinner, they said a little thankful prayer to the goddesses and then dig into the food. Small light conversation happened all around. Time watched at twilight and Colin had their bother like moments. Teasing each other. He also saw very closely how while they all beside colin and Saria, he did not drink any alcohol that was served. He stuck to water. Time turned his attention to Rusl and in a question, “he doesn’t drink?” Rusl looked over at Twilight and then back to Time. “Well, there is a reason to that, as I am sure you have seen with your team. Alcohol effect making smart decisions when in battle and just in life. It was never like that though. There was a point where we saw the darker side of things. He just made a choice to get cleared up. Left to get healed. When he returned, this the person he is now. We are glad, he was not-well you know.” Rusl explained. “Makes total sense, I have a few guys on our team who play dirty when it comes to alcohol. I myself don’t honestly trust myself with it. So this is rare.” Time explained his own personal struggles. Colin’s ears perked up. “Wait dirty games? Like what?” He asked. Twilight eyed Rusl, Time and then back to Colin. Time nodded in the okay. Twilight covered Saria’s ears. “Well Colin, you know how Talo has zero filter about certain subjects? Well we have a few guys in our group whom play games meant to either embarrass us or dig into our sex life.” Colin has fully regretted asking and turned bright red. “My exact feeling colin.” Twilight uncovered Saria’s ears. Rusl just chuckled. Time chuckles as well as Rusl. “Oh my.” Malon states. Twilight stuck a chunk of turkey into his mouth. “They had a go at Time, big mistake. Also thank you, I will never unhear what you said.” He glared at Time who was cackling. “Well your reply was even more beautiful, I do believe warrior will never ask again.” Time added. “What happened?” Asked colin. Twilight rolled his eyes. “Well it’s a bit TMI, but warrior was asking is I even had sex before. I respond with, ‘are you wanting to find out if I screw. I am sorry pretty boy- I would break you.’” He snorted. “Oh the look on his face.” Rusl slapped his hand on the table. “That is brilliant.” Time sipped his drink and chuckled. Malon face was filled with shock. “O-oh my!” Colin just face palmed. Twilight ruffled the boy’s hair.

After they had enjoyed some pie and tea, Twilight went about helping clean up the dishes. Rusl sitting near Time. “He is a good kid.” Time smiled. “You and Uli did a great job with him.” He said in a form of thank you. “Well, it sure wasn’t easy, the kid had some hard times, but he turned out to be this humble person. We just tried to keep him level headed.” Rusl continued. “I am just glad you are being able to spend time with him and watch him to continue to grow.” Time smiles at that statement. “We are ever greatful for that.” Twilight came over finishing up a cup of Tea. Seeing the Three of them looking at him, beaming. He returned a smile back. “I am just greatful the lot of you, so there. Get use to it.” He joked. Time got up, startling Twilight and grabbing him into a tight hug. Twilight, had a hand pressed against Time’s chest. He could feel the old man’s heart beating a mile per hour. He was sure his own heart matched that. After a few moments, Time pulled away and just lifted twilights chin to look at him. “You will be all right.” He spoke softly. Twilight stepped aside, handing his cup of tea to colin and then too the three of them, he signed in Hylian “I love you all.” And gives a beaming grin, taking his tea back and leaving to go pester his little sister. The Three of them, looking after him and then at each other. “Well this some reunion.” -fin.

#legend of zelda #twilight princess #ocarina of time #majora mask #linkeduniverseau #linkeduniverse #linked universe #fancontent #fanfiction #malon #time #twilight #tloz #zelda

52 notes · View notes

thedeviltohisangel · 5 years ago

Text

He’s A God, He’s A Man: 13

Pour another glass.

masterlist is my url/writing

i am soliciting requests/ideas for the two year gap that is coming up so send them on in!

Lydia didn’t feel like celebrating at The Garrison. She was there all the time. Was there with Tommy all the time. The cause of his coin flip going in a positive direction was one that deserved a special celebration. She took him to her flat, Tommy surprised how homey it felt even though she rarely spent time there.

“Shall I get us a glass of something we can feel?” she asked as Tommy helped her out of her coat.

“I’d rather get drunk off of your kisses,” he mumbled against her lips as she giggled.

“I wanted to make a toast,” she said breathlessly as Tommy began to trail kisses down her neck, moving her sweater off her arms as he went.

“You can make your toast...naked...in bed...in a few hours.” Each of his statements were punctuated by a nip to her skin. She knew fighting against Tommy was a fruitless task. So she gave in. As she always did when he was using those lips of his. At least he had the courtesy to carry her to bed.

----

“To you and me, to us, and our future together and the adventure of New York City,” Lydia said as Tommy finally allowed her her moment. They clinked glasses and took their sips before snuggling back down under the sheets. “I would have forced you to come regardless of that coin toss.” She traced her fingertip over the slope of his nose.

“I wish keeping you happy was my only responsibility,” he replied sincerely. He took the happiness of his entire family seriously.

“I know. Which is why it means even more to me that you are coming to New York. I think it will be good for us to get out of Birmingham. Have some time away from all of it and just be the two of us.” She was giddy over just the thought of it. She couldn’t wait to show Tommy all her favorite places to eat and shop. Introduce him to her friends and family. Point out the dirty, nasty secretary that always had something mean to say to her. She had a whole life over there she had been ignoring. Not thinking about. A whole like Tommy knew nothing about. All of that was going to change and it was going to aid in the growth of their relationship immensely.

“I have something I need you to get to Ada.” Tommy rolled over and pulled a cigarette from his jacket pocket.

“And why can’t you bring it to her? Or have one of your peaky men do it.”

“She is hiding from me after the debacle with Stanley Chapman. I heard she goes to the bathhouse on Montague Street on women-only days. Hence my asking of you.” Lydia sighed. She knows she should have never involved herself in the affairs of their brother-sister relationship. She regrets it. Family was a complicated and tricky thing to navigate. And now she was involved with no way out.

“And what is it you’re asking me to deliver?” she inquired as she pulled Tommy’s face to focus on her instead of his cigarette.

“An invitation to a family event. Tell her it’s a truce.”

“I know you don’t like it when I ask questions,” Lydia started.

“Lydia…” he warned.

“Fine, fine. I will remain silent and deliver your item to the bathhouse.” She sighed and rolled her eyes at him regardless. “What is my compensation for doing so?” She raised her eyebrows in a knowing way, wiggled her hips slightly under the sheets. Tommy knew exactly the game she was playing at. He put out his cigarette on the ashtray she had bought just for him, moving his body so just his head was peeking out from quilt.

“Hopefully I can put on a performance worthy of your services.” He disappeared completely under before she had the chance to respond. Tommy loved her intellect and the way she pushed back at him. She wasn’t afraid to. And, he would never admit it, on more than one occasion she had made good enough points to make him question his own decision making. But for now, he was intent to shut her up with gasps and moans.

----

Lydia held her robe and the envelope from Tommy tightly against her as she wandered through the bathhouse looking for Ada. It shouldn’t be that difficult to find a pregnant woman near-term but apparently the women only days were more popular than she thought. She preferred the privacy of bathing at her own home or stealing a kiss or two in the bath with Tommy. But she understood Ada’s need to get out of her house and disappear into a crowd, maybe have a conversation or two with the local women.

“Can I help you? You look lost.” Lydia paused. The woman was assessing her with a quizzical eye. Of course it must look odd to be wandering around a bathhouse. There was only one place to go that made any sense.

“I might be, actually. I am looking for a friend whom I was supposed to meet here. She’s pregnant. About to pop if you know what I mean.” The stranger’s frown only deepened.

“What is an American doing here?” Lydia supposes that was also a valid question.

“If you could just help me find my friend-”

“Lydia?”

“Ada? Oh thank God!” Lydia pulled the Shelby into a tight hug with such relief. Perhaps now the other patrons would stop looking at her so funny.

“What on earth are you doing here?”

“You’ll be mad if I tell you. Perhaps we should sit and have a chat.” Reluctantly, Ada followed her to one of the benches outside the changing area. “How are you? How are things going with the baby?”

“I’m fine. They’re fine. Now did my brother send you?” Ada had a feeling that since Lydia was clutching and envelope and mentioned her impending distaste that it had Tommy’s name written all over it.

“He wanted to offer a truce, invite you to a family event. I don’t know the details.” Lydia had taken to following Tommy’s wishes and not asking too many questions. It went against every fiber of her being but she wanted to be a place of solace for him at the end of the day. A place where he could feel safe and accepted and like a normal man if even just for a little bit. If that meant a bit of placating, then so be it.

“Will you come with me if I go?”

“Of course! You’re prettier than your brother anyways, I’d love to be on your arm.” That got a giggle out of Ada and Lydia felt like she had completed both Tommy’s mission and her own. “Now, that water does look so warm and inviting. Shall we share a bit of gossip in the bath?”

“Yes, like real ladies.” The twinkling sounds of their laughter echoed like music throughout the hall.

----

The last trick Lydia expected Tommy to have up his sleeve was a wedding. Particularly one with the Lee’s and with John after he had already professed his intention of marrying Lizzie Stark. But, she supposes, she should not be surprised in the least. Tommy didn’t exist in the same plane of reality as the rest of them. He existed somewhere where the past, the present and the future all mingled together. Allowing him to understand, process and act in a way that always seemed to be foolproof.

There was something about being at a wedding that made her mind spin at a dizzying speed. She held Tommy’s hands tightly as John and Esme exchanged their vows. Resisted the urge to look at him. Because then he would be able to see what it was she was thinking. That one day it would be them up there exchanging vows. Would Tommy use their own wedding as merely a backdrop to conduct business? She wishes her eyes could see into Tommy’s mind. Wishes she had more than just intuition to go off of. Wishes she knew how to accept who he was the way she told him he did.

“Your eyes look sad,” Tommy whispered as he stole a quick glance at Lydia. He was intensely focused on the ceremony taking place before him but had felt her gaze on him. IT was unnerving. It felt like she was looking at his soul. Seeing the truth behind who he is.

“Just wondering.”

“About?”

“Nothing worth sharing during such a sacred event.” She knows her tone was biting and unwarranted. That she had built up her anger internally and was releasing it with no warning.

“We all make sacrifices. John knows that. He’s doing what is best for our family. For our safety and prosperity.” Tommy ripped the cigarette from his mouth and stomped it out under his foot with a bit more force. “You gonna go run off like Ada?” Lydia scoffed and rolled her eyes.

“How petulant. First, I am not allowed to ask questions. Now, I am not allowed to disagree with your actions. I understand you have rules, Thomas, but I will not be caged by your paranoia.” She wanted to huff and puff and storm away from him. But then that would be stooping to his level. Would be acting just as inconsiderate of the people around her as he normally was.

“I now pronounce you man and wife!” Johnny Dogs proclaimed from in front of them, the entire crown erupting into cheers. Lydia plastered on a fake smile and clapped her hands enthusiastically. Only because John, and now Esme, was family.

“Come. We won’t get to any resolution if we are in a crowd and feel we can’t speak,” Tommy said as he offered her his arm. Even his offer alone made her feel marginally better. It was much healthier for them to work through this little spat than to let it weigh on them for the rest of the night. Perhaps Tommy was listening to her and implementing some of her advice.

“I’ll start. My anger seemed random but it was because I was lost in my own thoughts. About our potential life moments being means for you to conduct business. I don’t want that. I want those special milestones between us to be between us. To be sacred. It’s old school and perhaps naive but it is what I’ve always dreamed of. We need to be a safe haven for each other. Need to protect the little world we created, just us two,” she spoke as they reached a wagon that was far enough away from the party that they had some privacy.

“I can’t make that promise to you, Lydia. That I won’t see an opportunity and take it. That you won’t disagree with a decision. That you won’t be caught in the crosshairs of one of my mistakes. All I can promise is that I will do my best to keep you safe. Protect you. Love you. Give you the life you’ve always dreamed of and deserved,” he swallowed thickly before continuing, “you saved my life in France. Were, are, my angel. I’ll do my best to be that in return for you.” She had already given him so much more than he could ever give her. Did he have the capacity to work as hard at being a good partner as he needed to? Would he be able to do that and still maintain the prosperity of business? Did Tommy want to?

“I guess I can’t ask for anything more,” she whispered. Lydia wasn’t sure if the feeling that settled inside her was sadness that this was the life she was willingly signing up for. Sadness that Tommy was so clearly raging a war inside of him. Sadness that she didn’t know if her love would be enough to save him.

Tommy ran his knuckles down her cheek and kissed her gently. Like she was porcelain. “I’ve never loved anyone like I’ve loved you.” His voice broke as the words washed over him. As he realized the consequences of letting his guard. Of knowing that he needed to for this to work. Knowing that he needed this to work.

“I know at the end of the day we’ll be okay. Always, Tommy.” She kissed him. And again. And again and again until she was pulling him into the wagon and he shut the curtains behind them. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for being so difficult,” she said as a tear trickled down her cheek, Tommy sliding his hands under her skirt. He shushed her gently.

“No, don’t apologize. I need someone like you to keep me on my toes. Keep me honest. Remind me what’s really important.” Tommy wiped away her tears as her fingers made quick work of his belt and trousers. She needed to feel connected to him again. They had drifted apart during their brief spat and she felt alone and stranded without him warmly by her side. Tommy leaned back against the side of the wagon as Lydia gathered her skirts around her waist and straddled him. He had one hand on her back and the other cupping the back of her head, wanting to encase her and protect her. Keep her close.

“I love you, Thomas, no matter what I-” her words got caught in her throat as he hit a particularly sweet spot inside of her.

“I know, I know,” he panted in response. He felt the strength and veracity of her love for him entirely in this moment. It was overwhelming. After a few more moments she stilled and shook with pleasure on top of him, his own release shortly thereafter. Lydia lazily kissed him. The slow pace welcome after the frantic nature of her movements only a short while ago.

“I have demons in my head too,” she whispered, “we’ll have to be patient with each other.” Tommy nodded. He hadn’t brought up the empty whisky bottles that accumulated when she was alone with Arthur at The Garrison. Hadn’t thought it was his place. “I want to feel stable with you, Tommy.” Lydia had been on unsettled ground for so long. She wanted this love to be her solace.

“Once we get to New York, we can wipe the slate clean. Grow with each other from the ground up. Away from all of it.” There would be no prying eyes in New York. No racetracks and moldy cigarettes and coppers threatening to ring their necks. They’d be free.

“That will be heaven, Tommy. We’ll bring it down to earth just for us.” He stroked her hair away from her face.

“Yes. A heaven just for us.”

@flecksphoenix @girl-w-a-quill @odetostep @itsilvermorny @shadow-of-wonder @lemmyjelly @blues022

#tommy shelby #thomas shelby #cillian murphy #peaky blinders #tommy shelby fanfiction #thomas shelby fanfiction #peaky blinders fanfiction

45 notes · View notes

mst3kproject · 5 years ago

Photo

The Devil’s Eight

The nasty misanthropic Ross Hagen revenge movies were among my least favourite episodes of MST3K, so it’s no surprise I haven’t done one as an Episode that Never Was. But this blog isn’t about movies I like, it’s about movies that were or should have been on the Satellite of Love. The Devil’s Eight is from American International Pictures, and as well as Hagen it features Leslie Parrish, whom you’ll remember as Ev from The Giant Spider Invasion, and Cliff Osmond, whom you probably don’t remember as the Sheriff in Hangar 18. And on a super-duper-extra-promising note, it was written by Willard Huyck, who did the script for American Graffiti… but also for Howard the Duck.

FBI Agent Faulkner has been assigned to arrest a powerful crime lord. Several of his colleagues have already tried this mission and been killed, so rather than use fellow agents, he frees a bunch of criminals from a chain gang and forces them to be his underlings, because we’re here to rip off The Dirty Dozen and we don’t care if it makes sense. Driving specially souped-up cars, this unwashed and unshaven bunch infiltrate the crime boss’ moonshine operation only to realize that he’s set a trap for them. The movie climaxes in a free-for-all of shooting, driving, and blowing shit up, and I have no idea what was happening for most of it but Ross Hagen got to hug his girlfriend at the end so it must have worked out okay.

My number one complaint about The Devil’s Eight (and I have many) is that there is only one piece of music in the entire film. It’s a repetitive and obnoxiously catchy two-line melody that is arranged in a dozen different ways, attempting to sound ominous, mischievous, romantic, dramatic, and so forth, but the only thing it ever actually does sound like is comical old west saloon music. It repeats through the whole hour and forty minutes of the movie and then we have to hear a ditty about the characters sung to the same tune over the end credits. I can already tell it’s gonna be in my head for days and it’s making me want to stab something.

From the beginning, The Devil’s Eight is very badly constructed. We start with the prison break, which was probably a good idea, and follow it until the surprise moment when they find the helicopter there waiting for them. This scene is weirdly reminiscent of its counterpart in Starcrash and I assume both of them stole it from some better movie. Once they’re in the chopper, however, we segue into a flashback of Faulkner and his boss talking about the mission. Skipping back in time to a couple of guys talking in an office totally derails the momentum the first scene built up. We want to know what’s going on, but the same information could have (and partially was) imparted by Faulkner talking to the rest a moment later!

When he does talk to them, he is maddeningly vague about what their plan is. It involves secretly armored cars and throwing grenades while driving them – we can gather that much from the montages that follow. The ultimate goal is to find a guy named Burl, who brews his own moonshine and apparently ‘owns’ most of the cops and politicians in wherever this is, and whom we know nothing about until the movie is half over. When things finally do start happening, we still don’t really know what they’re trying to accomplish, and we’re not sure the characters are. Faulkner acts like he knows what he’s doing, and the other guys (and the audience) just have to take that on faith.

In addition to telling us what the hell the characters are trying to accomplish, the first third or so of the movie should be spent getting to know them and setting up their arcs. The Devil’s Eight tries to do this but it’s pretty half-assed about it. There’s Sonny, the drunk troublemaker, who resolutely refuses to evolve even at gunpoint. There’s Chandler, the guy who is trying to better himself by giving up violence and reading the bible. He turns out to be the most brutal hand-to-hand fighter of the lot, absolutely creaming half of Burl’s guys in a barfight, but he’s given no resolution to his desire for a pacifist lifestyle and is gunned down moments after admitting he doesn’t know whether to believe in god or not. And there’s Henry and Billy Jo, the black guy and the bigot (respectively), who learn to appreciate each other. I have to give this arc a couple of grudging points for ending with Henry weeping over Billy Jo’s dead body rather than the reverse… congratulations, guys, you were slightly less racist than you could have been.

The character with the biggest personal investment in this and the one who tries to have a real story arc is Ross Hagen’s Frank. He used to work for Burl until, for unknown reasons, Burl framed him for murder, killed his younger brother, and stole his girlfriend. He’s now itching for revenge and is personal stake in the mission leads him to take charge and enforce order when the others try to rebel against Faulkner. That sounds like a pretty good storyline for the main character in a movie.

Then they blow it. When Faulkner tells him they have to bring Burl in alive, Frank gets mad and insists he deserves to die. Then, like that other Frank in T-Bird Gang, he gets no resolution for it. The audience expects him to have a moment of confrontation with Burl and then either kill him or decide not to do so. The final confrontation, however, is between Burl and Faulkner, while Frank just fucking stands there. It seems incomprehensible when it’s his girlfriend Burl is threatening to shoot.

This scene also has a perfect opportunity to pay off another thing The Devil’s Eight set up earlier – there’s a scene in which Faulkner demonstrates his skill as a marksman by putting three holes in a target without hitting the man who is reaching to take the target off its stand. When Burl began threatening to shoot Frank’s girlfriend, Faulkner stood up and I was sure we were going to get a payoff for that, with Faulkner shooting Burl in the leg or the hand to make him let go of the woman, without hitting her. But instead, Faulkner just drops his gun and walks forward to parlay! It’s a failure of Chekov’s gun with an actual gun in it.

I think Faulkner is supposed to be the actual main character. He’s in charge, after all, and he’s the one who gets things like flashbacks and climactic confrontations. The problem with this is that Faulkner never learns anything, never grows, and we get no insights into his character. He’s just a huge asshole to everybody from his girlfriend to the prisoners to the rookie agent the FBI sent to assist him (this character’s age is never established. He’s implied to be young and naïve, but he’s played by an actor who looks like he’s around forty). Faulkner’s final line is not to place Burl under arrest, although that’s coming, but to make fun of him.

If Faulkner is a crummy hero, Burl is a terrible villain. We don’t even meet him until the movie’s half-over, which I guess is supposed to build suspense. The problem is that until that moment, we have seen nothing to tell us what kind of threat he represents. Characters have talked about it, but that’s all. We got a vague impression of a local crime king, but when Burl actually arrives in the narrative he’s a Joe Don Baker-looking guy who lives in a ramshackle log cabin in the middle of nowhere, with a bunch of other hillbillies who differ from him mostly in being dirtier. All he seems to actually do is sit around eating. He never comes across as threatening, just as a hick with pretensions.

Without a compelling hero, a threatening bad guy, or much of an idea what this is all even building to, where does that leave The Devil’s Eight? It’s an over-long movie about dirty men driving huge cars and punching each other. The movie had plenty of time that could have gone into rising action and establishing character and playing up Burl’s threat and so forth, but instead it’s just training montages of driving and punching. Once the actual plan is in motion that turns out to be just more driving and punching as they run Burl’s moonshine deliveries off the road. The driving scenes are set to that annoying single piece of music that sounds more comical than exciting, the bluescreen backgrounds are dire, and the actors are utterly incapable of making their fake driving look anything but fake.

Everybody in the entire movie is filthy, by the way. I don’t know if this is actually supposed to invoke the ‘dirty’ part of The Dirty Dozen, or if it’s an attempt to show how rough and tough these guys are, but they’re all grimy, sweaty, and gross. I could almost smell them through the screen.

MST3K would have had a great time with The Devil’s Eight. I can picture Crow and Tom trying to make their own moonshine… Mike tastes it and doesn’t like it but tries not to insult them, and then they reveal it’s distilled from things like old o-rings and Joel’s socks. And I know exactly what the stinger would have been, too. There’s a bit where Burl and Faulkner are attempting to size each other up over dinner, and Burl orders Frank’s ex-girlfriend to mind her manners and give Frank a slice of her inexpertly-iced cake. I don’t know why this is so funny, but I don’t know what made half the stingers in the series funny, so there you go.

#mst3k #reviews #episodes that never were #the devil's eight #the devil's 8 #60s

16 notes · View notes

bboyplankton · 5 years ago

Text

2019 Playlist

1. A$AP Ferg & MadeinTYO – Wam

2. Action Bronson & The Alchemist – Arnold & Danny

3. Action Bronson & The Alchemist – Descendant of the Stars

4. Akon feat. Skales – Control

5. Akon feat. Olamide – Scammers

6. Alex Isley – Colors

7. Amaal – Coming & Going

8. Anderson .Paak feat. Andre 3000 – Come Home

9. Anderson .Paak feat. Smokey Robinson – Make It Better

10. Ari Lennox – I Been

11. Ari Lennox – Up Late

12. Ariana Grande – fake smile

13. Ariana Grande – in my head

14. Arin Ray feat. Kehlani – Change

15. Arin Ray - ZZZ

16. Asiahn – Like You

17. Asiahn – NOLA

18. August Alsina – Forever and a Day

19. August Alsina – For You

20. Baby Rose – Mortal

21. Beyoncé, Jay-Z & Childish Gambino feat. Oumou Sangaré – Mood 4 Eva

22. Big K.R.I.T – Blue Flame Ballet

23. Big K.R.I.T – Energy

24. Big K.R.I.T – M.I.S.S.I.S.S.I.P.P.I

25. BJ the Chicago Kid feat. JID, Buddy, & Kent Jamz – Get Away

26. Blackbear – Sick Of It All

27. The Black Keys – Sit Around And Miss You

28. The Black Keys – Tell Me Lies

29. Bobby Sparks ii feat. Robert “Sput” Searight & MonoNeon – The Comanche Are Coming

30. Boogie – Live 95

31. Boogie feat. Snoh Aalegra – Time

32. Burna Boy feat. Jeremih & Serani – Secret

33. Che Ecru – That’s My Baby

34. Ciara – Greatest Love

35. Ciara – Set

36. Ciara – Trust Myself

37. City and Colour – Mountain of Madness

38. Col3trane, DJDS, & Raye – The Fruits

39. Conway the Machine – Half of It

40. DaBaby – Bop

41. DaBaby – Goin Baby

42. DaBaby – Suge

43. Daniel Caesar & Brandy – Love Again

44. Danny Brown – Dirty Laundry

45. Danny Brown – Savage Nomad

46. Dave East – Mama I Made It

47. Dave East – The Marathon Continues (Nipsey Tribute)

48. Dave East – Me & Mines

49. Denzel Curry – Speedboat

50. Devin Morrison – Bussin’

51. Devin Morrison feat. Dahvi – It’s Time

52. DJ Shadow – If I Died Today

53. DJ Shadow feat. Run The Jewels – Kings & Queens

54. DJ Shadow feat. De La Soul – Rocket Fuel

55. Doja Cat – Say So

56. Doja Cat – Streets

57. Dreamville feat. Ty Dolla $ign & Dreezy – Got Me

58. Dreamville feat. JID & T.I. – Ladies, Ladies, Ladies

59. Dreezy feat. Jeremih – Ecstasy

60. E-40 feat. Quavo Roddy Ricch, A$AP Ferg, & ScHoolboy Q – Chase the Money

61. E-40 – Imma Find Out

62. E-40 feat. Redman, Method Man, & Bosko – Keep On Gassin

63. Earthgang feat. T-Pain – Tequila

64. Earthgang feat. Kehlani – Trippin

65. Elhae – fXXX

66. Elhae – I.D.B.I.L

67. Elhae feat. Big K.R.I.T – Sanctuary

68. Emotional Oranges – Someone Else

69. Emotional Oranges – West Coast Love

70. Emotional Oranges – Your Best Friend Is A Hater

71. Eric Bellinger – iPod on Shuffle

72. Eric Bellinger feat. K Camp – Moist

73. Eric Bellinger – Run It Up

74. Eric Bellinger – The Sexy Song

75. Eric Bellinger – Spice

76. Eric Bellinger feat. Chris Brown & OG Parker – Type a Way

77. Eric Bellinger – Undress

78. Esperanza Spalding – Touch in Mine (Fingers)

79. Fabolous feat. Jacquees – My Mind

80. Fabolous feat. Ty Dolla $ign – Ooh Yea

81. FKA twigs – Mirrored Heart

82. Freddie Gibbs & Madlib feat. Killer Mike & Pusha T – Palmolive

83. Freddie Gibbs & Madlib – Soul Right

84. Free Nationals – Lester Diamond

85. Free Nationals feat. Syd – Shibuya

86. Free Nationals feat. Mac Miller & Kali Uchis – Time

87. Future – Crushed Up

88. Gallant – Céline

89. Gallant – Sleep On It

90. The Game – Born 2 Rap

91. The Game feat. 21 Savage – The Code

92. The Game feat. Anderson .Paak – Stainless

93. Gang Starr feat. J. Cole – Family And Loyalty

94. Gang Starr feat. Ne-Yo & Nitty Scott – Get Together

95. Gary Clark Jr. – I Got My Eyes on You (Locked & Loaded)

96. GoldLink feat. WaveIQ – Spanish Song

97. GoldLink feat. Tyler, the Creator & Jay Prince – U Say

98. Griselda – Freddie HotSpot

99. Gucci Mane – Move Me

100. Isabella – Tag

101. Jacquees – Fact Or Fiction

102. Jacquees – Good Lovin

103. Jaden – Got It

104. Jeezy – White Keys

105. Jidenna feat. GoldLink – Babouche

106. Jidenna – Sou Sou

107. Jidenna – Vaporiza

108. Jim Jones feat. Maino & Drama – My Era

109. Jim Jones feat. Cam’ron, Guordan Banks, Benny the Butcher, & Conway the Machine – To Whom it May Concern

110. Joell Ortiz – Jamaican Food

111. Joell Ortiz – Sip Slow

112. Johnta Austin – Breakin Rules

113. Justine Skye – Secrets

114. Kalin White – 4 sexonds

115. Kaytranada feat. GoldLink, Eight9Fly, & Ari Pensmith – Vex Oh

116. Kehlani – Feels

117. Kehlani feat. 6lack – RPG

118. Khalid – Paradise

119. Khalid – Talk

120. Kiana Ledé feat. Jenifer Lewis – Heavy

121. Kiana Ledé – If You Hate Me

122. Kxng Crooked & Bronze Nazareth feat. Tristate & L.A.D – French Connection

123. Kirk Brown – Vibes Up

124. Koffee feat. Jane Macgizmo – Blazin

125. Konshens – Back It Up

126. Konshens – Last Wine

127. Kyle Dion – Hands to Yourself

128. Kyle Dion – Spend It

129. Larry June feat. Premo Rice – Booty Girl Club

130. Larry June – Early Bird

131. Larry June – Organic Smiles

132. Layton Greene – Never Knew

133. Lion Babe feat. Leikeli47 – The Wave

134. Lion Babe feat. Raekwon – Western World

135. Lophiile – Late Ass

136. Lophiile feat. Jesse Boykins III – You’re Gonna Need It

137. Lophiile – You’ve Changed

138. Lucky Daye – Love You Too Much

139. Lucky Daye – Real Games

140. Lyfe Jennings – Baby

141. Mac Ayers feat. Uhmeer – Fears

142. Mac Ayers – Get Away

143. Mahalia – Karma

144. Mahalia – What Am I?

145. Mahalia feat. Ella Mai – What You Did

146. Marc E. Bassy – Crash and Burn

147. Marc E. Bassy – Where We’re From

148. Matt Martians – Movin’ On

149. Maxo Kream feat. Megan Thee Stallion – She Live

150. Megan Thee Stallion feat. Da Baby – Cash S**t

151. Mereba – Stay Tru

152. Moonchild – Strength

153. Murs, 9th Wonder, & The Soul Council - Sin

154. Murs, 9th Wonder, & The Soul Council – Unicorn Glitter

155. Nikki Jean – Driver

156. Nikki Jean feat. Lupe Fiasco – Mr. Clean

157. Papoose feat. DJ Premier – Numerical Slaughter

158. Pardison Fontaine – Money Machine

159. Pardison Fontaine – Under8ed

160. PJ Morton – Kid Again

161. PJ Morton feat. JoJo – Say So

162. Post Malone – I’m Gonna Be

163. Problem Child – Whole Heart

164. Quinn XCII feat. Yoshi Flower – Werewolf

165. Rapsody feat. Queen Latifah – Hatshepsut

166. Rapsody feat. D’Angelo & GZA – Ibtihaj

167. Rapsody feat. Elle Varner – Michelle

168. Raveena – Nectar

169. Raveena – Salt Water

170. Rex Orange County – Always

171. Rex Orange County – It Gets Better

172. Rick Ross – Fascinated

173. Rick Ross feat. Drake – Gold Roses

174. Rick Ross feat. Summer Walker – Summer Reign

175. Rick Ross – Vegas Residency

176. R.LUM.R – Happy

177. R.LUM.R – Lies

178. Roses Gabor feat. Sampha – Illusions

179. Rotimi – Love Riddim

180. Rotimi – Way Gone

181. Sabrina Claudio – Truth Is

182. Sammie – Issues

183. Sara Bareilles – Armor

184. ScHoolboy Q feat. Kid Cudi – Dangerous

185. ScHoolboy Q – Numb Numb Juice

186. Shal Marshall – Mas Forever

187. Shal Marshall – Splinters

188. Shwayze – Rich City

189. Sinead Harnett – Be The One (Interlude)

190. SiR feat. Smino – LA Lisa

191. SiR feat. Kadhja Bonet – New Sky

192. Slum Village feat. Dwele – Call Me

193. Snoh Aalegra – Nothing to Me

194. Snoh Aalegra – Toronto

195. Snoop Dogg feat. Swizz Beatz – Countdown

196. Snoop Dogg feat. Marknoxx – I Wanna Thank Me

197. Snoop Dogg feat. Russ & Wiz Khalifa – Take Me Away

198. Solange – Almeda

199. Solange – Dreams

200. Steve Lacy – N Side

201. Steve Lacy – Playground

202. Summer Walker – Wasted

203. T-Pain feat. Tory Lanez – Getcha Roll On

204. Tayla Parx – Me vs. Us

205. Tayla Parx feat. Joey Bada$$ - Rebound

206. The Teskey Brothers – Rain

207. The Teskey Brothers – Sun Come Ease Me In

208. Tinashe – Feelings

209. Tobi lou feat. Erica Rene & Cam O’bi – That Old Nu-Nu

210. Tobi lou – Waterboy

211. Tori Kelly – Kid I Used To Know

212. Toro y Moi – Freelance

213. Toro y Moi – Ordinary Pleasure

214. Tory Lanez – Blowin’ Mine’s // Leah’s Introduction

215. Tory Lanez feat. Ludacris – The Fargo Splash

216. Trey Songz – Jill (Sumn Real)

217. Trina feat. Rico Love – Water

218. Tryezz – Walnut St. Dub

219. Tsu Surf – Killing Me

220. Tyler, the Creator - Earfquake

221. Tyler, the Creator – I Think

222. Umi – Sukidakara

223. Vedo – Do It Nasty

224. Wale feat. Jeremih – On Chill

225. Weezer – Happy Together

226. Willow – Time Machine

227. Wiz Khalifa feat. Young Deji – Gold Bottles

228. Xavier Omär & Sango – Cry & Lie

229. Xavier Omär & Sango feat. Billy Mercury – Keeping Me

230. YBN Cordae feat. Anderson .Paak – RNP

231. YBN Cordae feat. Meek Mill – We Gon Make It

232. Ye Ali feat. DCMBR – All About You

233. Ye Ali – Rehearsal

234. Ye Ali feat. DCMBR – Show Me

235. Ye Ali feat. DCMBR & Rainy Milo – Songs2Get2GetDrunk2

236. Yelawolf – Box Chevy 7

237. Yelawolf – Unnatural Born Killer

238. Young M.A. – Stubborn Ass

239. Zacari – Midas Touch

240. 2 Chainz – Threat 2 Society

25 notes · View notes

yavannah · 5 years ago

Photo

The heavily grayed dirty hair had been cut somewhat short and the beard slightly visible on the cheek was just a thin stubble. But the body and essence showed that the man had spent a very long time here. In addition, Calea bothered some degree of familiarity feeling, but why, he did not know.

Bira stepped straight to the man, touched his shoulder lightly, and said something. The man looked at Bira and then turned to look at the guests. There was a look on the man's face that was partly disbelief, partly astonishing. The same feeling came over Cale, as he now saw the man's narrow face properly. He recognized the man immediately, “Westridge,” he said, feeling joy and disbelief at the same time.

The man stood up and stepped, a little limping to them, “Professor Steven Cale?” The man asked in disbelief, in a deep sonorous voice that Cale knew well.

“How is this possible?” Cale asked, stepping closer to Westridge, looking at the slender essence of this, whose clothing was partly tribal in style, partly his own. Perhaps even a little seedy, but what you expected, when the man had lived for nearly two decades here, beyond the reach of modern amenities.

Danny noticed the same and said, “you look awful”.

“Thank you, I guess,” Westridge replied a little punctually, but couldn’t be angry. Actually, he was very happy to see familiar faces after all these years.

"How?" Terri asked, having seen what had happened on that fateful day. The fall and that disgusting snake.

“A long story,” Westridge replied, “but I have to say I still see nightmares from that day,” he remarked, his eyes darkening for a moment.

“Waarren, everything, good?” Asked the woman, who stepped beside Warren.

“Yara, everything is fine,” Warren replied, repeating the same yet in the woman’s own language, looking at the woman very tenderly and warmly. The woman looked at Westridge closely, but accepted what he had said and calmed down.

“What is this then?” Danny asked, raising his eyebrows and grinning.

"Well, as I said, the long story," Westridge replied, smiling slightly confused and absently scratched back of his head.

“Woah!” Danny laughed, for he knew how to gesture what was going on, “hey, where did you hide that whining, picky, fine-edged Snob that where on our previous trip?” He asked jokingly.

“I changed, but you obviously didn’t,” Westrige stated calmly and smiled. He remembered very well a few specific cases on a river boat. Only a few moments he longed to go back there, but then looked Yaraa and thought that this was better.

“But you’re the complete opposite now that you remember what you were like on the riverboat,” Danny stated with a grin, “but apparently you’ve done well, Waarren,” he teased.

“Uh, shut up,” Westridge snorted, but there was laughter in his eyes. This small joking he had longed for all these years.

“It’s nice to see you,” Danny finally said, giving Westridge a decent bear hug.

“It’s nice to see you too,” Westridge replied with a laugh.

Cale and Terri also gave a hug to Westridge who responded. A few compliments were still exchanged until Westridge urged the guests to sit down, however, following Bira and the other men of the tribe. He knew they were skeptical of the guests and for good reason. He himself had seen a little too close what followed as men with guns rushed to harass members of the tribe. A few had been lost, but most had escaped from the previous lodging and this had been built in a hurry to have some sort of shelter. At least for now.

“I thought he died?” Asked Carl, who finally dared to speak when he had first found a clean and comfortable place to sit.

"Apparently, he didn’t", Cale replied, smiling broadly, "and that's good," he added with satisfaction.

Carl shrugged and fell silent. He just wanted to get information and maybe he could get some important information from this Westridge as this had apparently lived with the tribe for a very long time. Apparently since he had ended up in the river during that previous unfortunate trip.

Wetridge looked at his old friends and a momentary deep sadness struck him. He longed again back for civilization, but then he glanced at Yara again and knew he could not leave the woman he had fallen deeply in love with. Another reason was that they had a beautiful daughter, whom he wanted to protect from the evil, which was waiting for, if the men would attack again.

He told his guests everything that had happened to him, even the little adventure he had had with Yara. That story also seemed to pique Carl’s interest. Especially when Westridge talked about the rocky structure covered with vegetation.

“Wow, well you’ve already had to experience everything,” Danny said, raising his eyebrows as he couldn’t think he could live here and he had a hard time believing that this man, who had been very attentive at the time and had longed for golf, ginitonnic and clean with sheets, enjoyed here, without those mentioned amenities.

“Yes,” Westridge admitted, glancing at Danny, who had a smile on his face.

“I still have your golf club. I wonder if you still want it back altought it’s bend”, Danny said with a grin, as he remembered very well the blow Westridge had swung on the golf club, straight into Serone’s hard skull. It had made him marvel the power what had been in the arms of that slender man in the end.

“Just keep it, as a souvenir,” Westridge laughed, for he, too, remembered that episode vividly, even though no one had laughed at the time of the incident.

Danny laughed and promised to keep the golf club as his great treasure, which made Wesridge laugh a warm friendly laugh that sprung deep from his chest.

For a few more moments, they joked until Westridge turned the conversation to more serious topics, “I would be curious to know how you decided to come back here because you hardly come after me if you thought I died on that fateful day,” he said.

“I admit we didn’t expect to find you here. We were actually looking for Shirishamas again”, Cale began, “I, Terri and Danny, wouldn’t have wanted to leave, but we were pressured, so here we are now”, he said.

Westridge was silent and watched Cale's face, for something in his words immediately showed a red flag. Apparently they weren’t just looking for this tribe, he concluded, but said nothing out loud. He decided to let them express their case for themselves, in their own words, if necessary.

“Uh, um,” Carl began, clearing his throat, “I became interested in what you said when you encountered those poachers,” he continued.

“What about it?” Westridge asked, looking sharply at Carl. Another red flag. ‘You don't seem to be interested in poachers’, he thought.

“Well, when you mentioned the structure where you stayed with this .. krhm .. woman,” Carl explained, trying to be tactful but failed.

Westridge's gaze became relatively icy as he glared at Carl, for the man's comment had shattered badly in his ear, “This woman happens to have a name and she’s my wife, so it would be nice if you could talk about her a little more respectfully”, he said in a formal polite tone, which, admittedly, contained a certain coolness.

“Uh, of course. Sorry”, Carl said quickly, “but like I said, I’d be very interested in that building. Mainly where it is located and could you guide us there?”, he explained.

“Unfortunately I didn’t memorize the route because we had a something else to think about at the time”, Westridge replied, still in that cool polite tone, “you see we tried not to run into those poachers again, because after what happened to them, they really weren’t particularly friendly to us”, he pointed out.

“I guess you then pissed them off properly”, Danny stated with a laugh and pushed Westridge companionship into his shoulder.

“Possibly, but not on purpose”, Westridge said calmly.

“But I would like to know if you could still find that structure, uh the ruin again?” Carl asked, hoping the man would agree. He knew he had made a mistake. But now it helped but to appease and humble himself, he thought. Perhaps later, if forced, one could resort to a little harder means.

“Like I said, I’m not the best option to guide you, and I can’t promise to know how to get back there”, Westridge began, but had decided not to point anyone to the tribe for that job, even if they would probably find their way back to their ruins, even in their dreams, “I might try to guide you in nearby areas, but my sense of direction here is lousy”, he pointed out.

Indeed, his orienteering was nothing alongside the inhabitants of this tribe, but he would also not point out a single member of the tribe in his place. Especially when he had a bad feeling about that man. He owed this tribe to his life and putting any member of the tribe in danger would be a bad way to thank. Besides, this place had become his home and tribe for his family, and he would not allow anyone to harm any of them, at any cost.

Stubborn, Carl thought irritably and was already thinking of a new plan. He knew there was nothing he could do about it, under the watchful eyes of the tribe, for he would very suddenly be a model example of a pincushion.

“But,” Carl tried again, albeit very diligently.

“Another reason I don’t want to return to that area is those poachers, because they seem to visit there regularly, and I don’t want to run into them and believe me when I say you certainly don’t want to be a target for them,” Westridge replied.

“I understand,” Carl said, contenting himself with some of his losses.

‘Checkmate’, Westridge thought, even though he already guessed that this would certainly not end there yet. Not really, for he had seen a small nasty flash in the man's eyes when that expressionless mask had seemed to have fallen down a couple of times due to irritation. I wonder if he even told others what he really was and by what means he was going to reach his goal, Westridge thought.

Cale glanced at Carl suspiciously, but decided to be silent. Now was not a good time to challenge a dispute or question anyone’s actions or omissions.

The rest of the evening went smoothly and Westridge chatted happily with Cale, Danny and Terri. He heard all that had happened in the world during the time he had lived with the tribe. Some of the news was terrible, of course, but some was interesting. He learned many things about what had changed since 1997.

Danny even introduced him to his latest cell phone, which made Westridge a little curious, even though he felt that he could do without that device, as he had done so far. But on the other hand, it was interesting to see how everything that had previously taken up a huge amount of space could now fit in a small thin widget that could be safely put in to a pocket.

Cale, Terri, Alejandro, Danny and Carl stayed with the tribe for the night, though subtly set up their camp outside the hut, as they were clearly not invited to the hut. It was only Westridge’s privilege.

***

Well, here is this part of my Anaconda Fanfic. I hope you like it.

Thanks again for the source of my inspiration, and of course the awesome cc authors. And still apologies for possible typos in the text. English is not my native language and I use a google translator with translations, so the results are far from perfect.

***

Edit... I just tried to fix some minor typos/errors in the text. Sorry about those typos.

#anaconda #anaconda fanfic #fanfic #base on b horror movie #my story #the sims 4 #ts4 #warren westridge #terri flores #steven cale #danny rich

5 notes · View notes

anora-mac-tired · 5 years ago

Text

Anora and Loghain - a missed reunion

During the Mage Templar War, Anora, Former Queen, is on the run for her life but now leads a group of displaced mages, hiding from the templars. Loghain is a Warden. Neither knows the other lives.

Anora bit back a wince at the bitter smell of the salve Marlin was applying to her leg. The mage was young, younger than Anora at least, but wiser than his youthful appearance suggested, and he was fixing Anora with a stern glare. "You have got to be more careful Celia."

She gave the herbalist a small, if somewhat sheepish smile.

"Templar's are aggressive bastards, not my fault."

They had walked into an ambush, sort of. Anora had known they were there, in the area, just not where specifically. She had led 5 others to hunt them down, so that their group could move on. She had lost two in the fight, but every templar - ten in total - had lost their lives that day.

That was 5 more marks to add to her helmet, personally. She was running out of space to be honest.

They burned the two who had fallen, in a solemn ceremony. Anora had never gotten used to this guilt, when she lost one of her men. Their names had been Darren and Felicia. Darren had had combat training, having served in the Denerim guard, Felicia had only what she had learned from the band. Both had been volunteers, all the warriors were. They were the siblings, lovers, friends etc of the mages in Anora's ever growing band, dedicated to protecting their loved ones.

Darren had joined up entirely on his own, he had been with the band since just after it started. He was a grizzled old veteran, but claimed he had once had a daughter in the circle. Felicia had a sister, a mage of 14, barely able to cast a spark, she and her sister had joined up at the same time, finding Anora's band while they moving through the hills around Wycome.

That was 2 years ago. 3 years ago was when all this had started.

Anora had been in the Marches when all the circles rebelled, she had not been privy to that though, as she was travelling through the wilderness at the time. Then she stumbled across three robed figures being chased by templars. The templars were raving mad, as any man would have to be to attack children. Two of the mages were barely adolescents, and the one leading them could only just have reached his 20th year.

Anora had leapt to their defense, surprising herself by her ability to take down 5 templars by herself, but later she realized it was that Templars were not actually good at fighting against other warriors. They were trained to stab helpless mages to death, not defend against a trained, armed and armored opponent.

From then on, her group grew, as she found more mages, and occasionally the odd few templars, though there was nothing to be done for their lyrium addiction and she sent them on their way, lest they begin to endanger the group.

Now she led a group of fifty, thirty five of which were mages. Teaching people who had grown up in the relative comfort of a tower how to live and survive in the outdoors had been an arduous task, but one she took to gladly.

At first, it had been extremely unnerving, to go from a life of solitude on the run, to suddenly having people under her care, looking up to her and relying on her for their protection, and most unnerving of all, trusting her. Even though she had absolutely no idea what she was doing, they trusted her. They had hope in her.

Anora had forgotten what that felt like. Perhaps she never truly knew. She did not know if the people of Ferelden had looked up to her or even trusted her when she was Queen.

And she would never know now, having being bested to the throne by a bastard and an elven mage of all things.

King Alistair was a fair ruler now or so she had heard, but, there was still the bounty on her head which he had never lifted. And she knew why. Eamon had all but ruled through the boy, Eamon was the reason Anora was on the run for her life to begin with - a death sentence for not swearing fealty to Alistair.

As if she would swear loyalty to the man who killed her father.

"Celia?"

Anora blinked, torn out of her thoughts and her eyes met with Marlin's, which carried concern.

She waved her hand, "Just… thinking. I'm just… angry over Darren and Felicia." It was not a lie, she was, but Marlin did not need to know of her past. None in this camp did.

Marlin put a hand on her shoulder, she felt it faintly through the thick black gambeson she wore, but the gesture was comforting all the same.

"They knew what they signed up for. Don't blame yourself. Blame-"

"-The templars."

It was a motto she had repeated to herself time and time again. Darren and Felicia were not the first she had lost, and they would not be the last. Still, it did little to comfort, but it did fuel her for the next fight.

She was not in a rush to face off against a group of templars again, but she would not mind getting the chance to remove ones' head from his shoulders again.

That thought sent a shiver down her spine. Marlin raised a brow but said nothing.

She was left to wonder to herself when she had begun to start looking forward to fighting, to killing. When had Queen Anora died and Anora the warrior been born?

Perhaps, when she had been dragged out of the throne room and tossed in a cell, and then sentenced to hang. Good a guess as any.

"Keep this bandage on for a bit, then come back around evening. The wound should heal up by then, but for now, please get some rest." He fixed her with a stern, knowing look, "Of the laying down and eating kind, not the sparring kind."

Anora grinned and waved a hand as she stood, "I know, I know. I learnt my lesson that time, Marlin. Especially since you won't let me forget it."

Loghain was utterly miserable. He was not soft, he had lived the first half of his life in the wilds, in tents, or just in the outdoors alone, But this trek through these forests in the Free Marches had proven to be utterly miserable.

It had rained earlier, and he was soaked completely through. He had not even bothered to remove his helmet, since it at least kept his head dry, and there was the possibility of it raining again. Delightful, he looked forward to that, truly. Their rations had been low, but the commander refused to stop until they reached further north, for reasons beyond him.

He was just glad he was not the only one. Kallian Tabris, the normally smart mouthed elf with an infallible smirk, was glaring at her boots the entire way, the scar on her lip that reached from her left nostril to her chin twitching in that way it did when she was particularly pissed off, and she gripped her bottle of warden reserve - "Alienage Finest" - longingly.

Loghain related, but the commander had said no drinking, they had to be sharp. He glared at Stroud's back, wishing it would pierce the metal there.

"Hold there, wardens!"

A female voice cried from the trees and the entire group stopped, and turned to it. The voice sent a bolt of familiarity through him, settling in his heart, which began to race. Could it possibly be…?

The woman stood near one of the trees, on an overhanging rock. She was dressed in a dirty black gambeson and a dull steel breastplate. Fur had been thrown over her shoulders, though it was flat and low quality as far as craftsmanship was concerned. A dull black scarf was about her neck, and her face…

Her hair was gone, the right shade of blonde, though it was damp and dirty. It was short, Shaved on the sides but long enough on top to be hanging in her eyes. And her face, a sharp square jawline and ice blue eyes.

He would never forget that face. Anora. It had to be her!

He started shaking, he could not help it, though it was imperceptible to anyone around him.

Except Kallian, who eyed him with concern and then looked back at Anora, understanding dawning slowly on her scarred face.

He had heard she had escaped, after being sentenced to death. No one could confirm it though, as she had not been seen anywhere after the landsmeet. The sight of her being dragged off in chains still haunted him to this day. If he was not stuck in the wardens, he would have laid siege to the castle himself, and killed that bastard who claimed the throne, Alistair too for good measure.

But here she was, looking for all the world like a bandit or mercenary. Why was she here?

"Hello there, stranger. What do you seek with us?" Stroud asked, removing his helmet.

"There are templars prowling these woods, further ahead especially. I warn you, they attack any and all on sight. Even Grey Wardens."

They had already encountered Templars, further back. Nasty business that lot, but was Anora doing in a forest infested with them? He had half a mind to remove his helmet, step forward and ask just that.

But he could not.

Not in front of all these wardens. He knew Anora probably thought he was dead, as she never saw the aftermath of his trial, and it was not exactly public knowledge that he had been made a warden.

His heart ached, painfully, as he realized he would have to leave without saying anything. Anora wouldn't know that he was alive. He had the luxury, and his relief was immeasurable, but she would not get the same.

Tears stung in his eyes and he let them fall silently, hidden beneath the helmets visor. Stroud and Anora continued to talk, she was telling him which areas to avoid, which routes were the safest, where the Templars had likely set up ambushes, all but giving the man a mental map of the area. Her information would likely save them a lot of trouble and pain on the way.

He burned to know how she knew all this. As he gazed at her though, he was struck by a different familiarity. The way she was so confident of the land around her, how she knew exactly where her enemy was.

"If I may ask, what are you doing out here?" Stroud finally asked, much to Loghain's relief.

Anora shrugged, "I lead a group of refugees whom the templars hunt."

And there it was. Anora may as well have been the spitting image of Gareth, the grandfather she would never know, at that moment. He had led displaced fereldens during the orlesian occupation, helping them live out a life in the woods, albeit as outlaws. It was clear that refugees meant mages, and Loghain felt immense concern over the fact that his daughter was becoming involved, or perhaps had been involved for a long time, in this conflict between mage and templar. But as much concern as there was, there was even more pride and his chest swelled.

Anora may have lost the crown, or rather had it taken from her, but she was a born leader, and she could not have made him more proud.

Then the wardens were moving again, and Loghain had to settle for a brief final glance at his daughter, whom he had no idea if he would ever see again. They locked eyes for the briefest of moments. Anora's brow furrowed, but then Loghain turned his head, and they were gone.

#dragon age #Loghain Mac Tir #Anora Mac Tir

2 notes · View notes

soveryanon · 5 years ago

Text

Reviewing time for MAG157! ;___;

- … I’d been making fun of the fact that The Corruption was the unloved Fear of season 4, since we hadn’t had any statement since MAG103… and consecutively, we got a small talk about Jane Prentiss at the end of MAG152, a Corruption statement in MAG153, and now… another one, which dealt with an identified avatar, and was, I felt, the most gruesome Corruption one we ever had. Somethingsomething about how season 4 is the “be careful what you wish for” season, uh. (Well. You never wish for a Corruption statement, you mostly note that there hasn’t been one for a while.)

Jon was suspecting that Jane Prentiss’s attack on the Institute had been a ritual attempt:

(MAG152) ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] … It’s all that left of her now. Apart from a… jar of ashes in my desk. Just a circle of rotten stone on an otherwise… unremarkable wall. HELEN: More of a legacy than some people get. ARCHIVIST: … It was meant to be a gate, I think. A hole that she… rotted into The Corruption itself. Maybe the start of a ritual. HELEN: Hm. Not exactly impressive, is it? ARCHIVIST: Less complex, certainly. But I think that’s the thing about– … what did Elias call it… “Filth”. I don’t think it really plans much. It just starts to grow wherever it can get a foothold and… if no one stomps it out in time: Game Over. […] I’ve been wondering what they were doing down here.

And it’s a bit terrifying to think that technically, Jane Prentiss was quite… low scale, in the harm she did during the attack on the Institute, compared to what we saw in “Love Bombing” (a whole cult minus one getting eradicated) and Amherst’s actions (contaminating the entirety of Ivy Meadows, and it probably could have spread through Nicole Baxter if she hadn’t lost/cut her hand, and eradicating the entire population of Klanxbüll):

(MAG157, Adelard Dekker) “I knew at that moment that there was nothing that could be done to save the town. […] I found the source of this sickness in the Parkplatz opposite the train station. The cars had been pushed to the side, clearly at great cost to the bodies of those that pushed them. And in the centre was a figure from whom the rot clearly flowed. He was sat upon a most dreadful throne, formed from a dozen, two dozen bodies mixed together like putty, eyes staring out like horror-stricken stars twinkling in the night – and their hearts beating for all to see. A moaning came from that awful seat, voices trying to scream through things that weren’t their throat – and it is a sound I shall be glad to leave behind me when I go to my rest.”

What kind of music was Amherst hearing in his dreams, to go for mass-damage like this every few years? Ivy Meadows happened during summer 2011 or 2012 (dates were a bit inconsistent in MAG036 itself, Elias said in June 2017 that it had been “five years” since the death of Melanie’s father), Amherst’s actions in Klanxbüll happened in 2013, that’s… such a short span to cause so much damage… ;; Really hoping that this concrete lasts forever ;;

- Chronology time, regarding Adelard’s actions since we began hearing about him in season 2:

* 06/02/1991 or 06/07/1991: Adelard had left a statement about the “NotThem”, calling it as such. Although it was referenced in MAG077, Jon explained in MAG078 that he had found another statement in the file:

(MAG077) GERTRUDE: Based on the interactions and effects, I suspect this to be the creature that Adelard Dekker refers to as the “NotThem” in statement 9910607. […] Based on Dekker’s statement, it would seem Polaroids are also relatively stable.

(MAG078) ARCHIVIST: I found this in the folder marked 9910602, where Gertrude’s tape had indicated I would find the statement of Dekker himself. There is nothing else in there, but I think it tells me what I need to know. This thing, this… “Not Sasha”… it’s tied to the table.

(… With an inconsistency regarding the month. Either Gertrude messed up (unlikely.), either Jonny messed up, either Jon messed up in his panic and fortunately still found a Not!Them-related statement despite going for the wrong file with the wrong month.)

* Sometime between 1991 and 1996 (since Eric knew Elias but didn’t know he had become Head before his own quitting&getting murdered): Adelard was identifiable as Gertrude’s collaborator and, amongst other things, threw a “screaming box” in the Thames:

(MAG154) ERIC: She never played dumb when I was stalked by bloated, blood-sucking things, or told me I was “imagining it” when I saw your friend Adelard drop a screaming box into the Thames.

* 04/11/1996: Gertrude recorded Lucy Cooper’s statement (given in September 1994) about the Not!Them taking her mother’s place. In her Final Comments, she mentioned a statement previously left by Adelard:

(MAG077) GERTRUDE: Based on the interactions and effects, I suspect this to be the creature that Adelard Dekker refers to as the “NotThem” in statement 9910607. If the pattern of behaviour is consistent with what he establishes, then further follow-up on this case is pointless: the thing has finished with the Cooper family and will not be revisiting them. It rarely seems to stay in the same place or with the same people for long, though it’s hard to guess at its motives. Personally, I suspect it to be an aspect of The Stranger, though that’s entirely conjecture at this point. […] It is at least reassuring to know that magnetic tape seems to escape being overwritten, so if I get changed, you can be sure this is my real voice. Based on Dekker’s statement, it would seem Polaroids are also relatively stable.

* Shortly before 12/06/2001: Lawrence Moore’s statement described Adelard Dekker, binding the Not!Them to the Web table which had previously been in Raymond Fielding’s ownership at Hill Top Road until the 70s. We don’t know how Adelard acquired the table, nor what happened to explain that he left without it and that Breekon&Hope were the ones to retrieve it afterwards:

(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 asked if I knew the man who had left my house earlier that evening. […] At this, the old man’s eyes lit up with excitement, and I took an involuntary step back. If he noticed, he didn’t show it, walking past me into the house and ordering me to get any photos that hadn’t changed. […] He told me his name was Adelard Dekker, and that he was an exorcist, of sorts. […] Adelard Dekker stood in the corner. He was straight and motionless, his lips moving rapidly, though no sound came out of them. In the centre of the room, next to the empty box, stood a table carved from dark wood and wrapped all over with a sprawling, intricate pattern. And in front of that table was the thing that had said it was my cousin. It was long and thin, the tops of it bent against the ceiling and its stick-like limbs flailed from too many joints and elbows. Wrapped around it were thick strands of what I think was spider’s web, stretching back into the table, which I now saw pulsed along its carved channels with a sickly light. The face at the top of that gangly frame was like nothing on earth. […] I didn’t return to my house until the next morning. Dekker’s blue van was gone, and in its place was another one, dirty white. There was something printed on the side, but I couldn’t make it out under the grime. I watched two men in overalls carry that same box out of my house, load it up, and drive away. That was about two months ago, and it was the last time I saw them, the table, Adelard Dekker or the thing that wasn’t my cousin.”

(MAG079) NOT!SASHA: Once upon a time there was a monster, but no one realised. Sometimes someone did and then they were scared, so that was good. But one day a nasty man came along. A nasty man who tricked the monster and wrapped it all in webs and tied it to a table. So the monster got its friends to carry the table all around, and it still got to take faces and scare people.

* 22/01/2006: Adelard sent a letter to Gertrude regarding Garland Hillier’s disappearance in 1867 (the year of Robert Smirke’s death…) and describing Bernadette Delcour’s discovery of his old sealed flat, leading to an encounter with the Inheritors from The Extinction.

(MAG134, Adelard Dekker) “Sorry I can’t be there in person to go over all this with you. I still have a few things to clear off over here, but I thought it would be best to let you know as soon as possible. I am now certain my theory is correct: there is something new emerging. A fifteenth Power. […] 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. 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. […] These are new fears, Gertrude, and a new Power is rising to consume them. The Extinction. The Terrible Change. The-Future-Without-Us. […] 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 don’t know how you can stop the birth of something that has no life, or mind, or… substance, but if anyone can figure it out, it’s you. I’ve never met anyone so gifted at understanding that… strange, dream logic of the Fears, and if what I suspect about this new Power is true, it could be catastrophic. Until then, I’ll keep searching for evidence, trying to find… instances and manifestations of The Extinction. I’ll keep you updated.”

* October 2008: Dekker had helped Gertrude stop The Flesh’s ritual – suggesting she use explosives? Providing them? Helping her set them up in the gnostic church?

(MAG130) GERTRUDE: 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. […] 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. […] At least we know for sure that these “grand rituals” can be disrupted by conventional means, though a more… nuanced approach will be needed for some of them, I’m sure. Also… I can’t rely on having this much lead time.

* 04/01/2009: Adelard sent a letter to Gertrude describing an unnamed man’s experience in the Bright Lake amusement park in Colorado, with something Adelard identified as an Extinction occurrence.

(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 […]. 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.”

(* 03/10/2009: Gary Boylan gave his statement to the Institute, about the destruction of his village following a signal he had deciphered. No mention of Adelard Dekker in the notes.)

* Undated letter, likely circa 2012: Adelard sent a statement to Gertrude about an avatar of The End encountered when he was tracking The Extinction (without naming it), through a string of people dying by carbon monoxide poisoning in their sleep. Adelard also mentioned that Gertrude had asked him to move out some plastic explosives (he hadn’t been her provider, Gertrude had got them elsewhere).

(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. The point is, I was alerted to a series of deaths by a coroner friend of mine. […] I don’t know if my little “theoretical” is strong enough yet to start taking avatars, but this one, as you’ve no doubt guessed, turned out to be Terminus.”

* 13/05/2013: Judith O’Neill gave her statement about (mostly) unmoving creatures made of garbage, killing a researcher. Judith had been explicitly sent by Adelard:

(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?

* Before August 2013: Adelard had apparently been the one to suggest explosives to disrupt The Unknowing. Gertrude made the following comment on 09/10/2014:

(MAG137) GERTRUDE: Another one to cross off the list. Doesn’t help with The Unknowing, though. [HEAVY SIGH] We still have Dekker’s back-up plan, of course, but… it’s very risky. To be sure, I–I think the detonation would need to happen from within The Unknowing, while it was going on.

* 14/08/2013: Adelard Dekker sent an email to Gertrude regarding his suspicion about an Extinction activity in the town of Klanxbüll, which turned out to be the work of John Amherst, from The Corruption. Adelard was poisoned during the fight, and told Gertrude what had happened and how he was choosing to die, ultimately expressing doubts about the reality or the shape of The Extinction:

(MAG157, Adelard Dekker) “You must forgive me, Gertrude, for any typing and spelling errors that might be in this message. My hands are shaking quite badly and my fingers… aren’t what they were. […] But I shall not wait for it to putrefy as the rot overtakes me. I have dragged those other afflicted I could find into the Parkplatz, laid them at the feet of that appalling throne, and… taken the last gifts of that… generous construction site: a dozen cans of petrol. I will sit upon that seat, and release these poor souls from their suffering. [INHALE] And hopefully make things simpler, for the ECDC clean-up crews. But it did not seem quite right to leave without letting you know what happened. And… Herr [Becker?] was kind enough to succumb to the sickness without signing out of his computer, so… perhaps you were right about The Extinction. I’ve been hunting it for decades now, and… while I have seen evidence of its influence in other Powers, I have never found anything to genuinely prove its emergence as a true Power of its own. Perhaps it is an existential fear that flows through the others like a vein of ore; or perhaps the birth of such things is longer and more complicated than I believed. For all that though, I cannot regret the time I have spent seeking it. I have done my duty; and none may ask more of me.”

So… although he sounds absolutely dead-dead, I don’t think this is the last we’re hearing from Adelard. I guess it could be possible that he had just left the Web table binding the Not!Them behind him around 2001 (though quite uncharacteristic), but we’re still missing his statement from 1991, and given that Jon had acknowledged that he hadn’t found Dekker’s own statement, I think it’s safe to assume that we could be hearing about it later (in season 5? Or in MAG160, as a “closure” to Dekker’s own story and investigations, since he was quite important through season 4?), in a written statement or through a recording with Gertrude.

- I’m a bit interrogative about the way Adelard mentioned his investigations regarding The Extinction:

(MAG157, Adelard Dekker) “… perhaps you were right about The Extinction. I’ve been hunting it for decades now, and… while I have seen evidence of its influence in other Powers, I have never found anything to genuinely prove its emergence as a true Power of its own. Perhaps it is an existential fear that flows through the others like a vein of ore; or perhaps the birth of such things is longer and more complicated than I believed. ”

Because the earliest he tried to summarise and essentialise what he felt was the New Power, labelling it “The Extinction”, was in 2006 (MAG134), so only seven years before his death. Was he exaggerating when he said “decades”? Or will we learn more about his genesis, as an addendum, and it was truly a long-time conviction / a dissatisfaction with Smirke’s categorisation? I had already noticed that it was strange (ha) that, although the Not!Them presented itself as a creature from The Stranger (or at least allied to it), the earliest things we know about Adelard was that he was after it… when his description of The Extinction feels very close to some of the Not!Them’s effects (although in lower scales, for the latter); so maybe he had trouble categorising the Not!Them, back then, hence his conviction that a New Power might have been emerging…? Adelard also used some of the names inherited from Smirke’s work:

(MAG113, Adelard Dekker) “There was… an inevitability to his movements, and I think that is when I realised he was simply serving The End, which I won’t pretend wasn’t a disappointment.”

(MAG134, Adelard Dekker) “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.”

(MAG156, Adelard Dekker) “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…”

(MAG157, Adelard Dekker) “I’ve spoken before about how keenly I have watched news of possible pandemics, which is where I suspect The Extinction may pull away from The Corruption during its emergence. […] So, it seemed it was not The Extinction as I had anticipated but simply a new and awful strain of Corruption.”

But he was also occasionally labelling them in unique ways:

(MAG113, Adelard Dekker) “I don’t know if my little “theoretical” is strong enough yet to start taking avatars, but this one, as you’ve no doubt guessed, turned out to be Terminus.”

(MAG156, Adelard Dekker) “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.”

(MAG157, Adelard Dekker) “I have spoken to you before of Christabel, my… contact within the ECDC. She had a run-in with the Crawling Rot some decades ago, and has since then kept me up to date with any incidents they have encountered which display “unusual” properties.”

(Though that last one was also used by Arthur Nolan in MAG145: “Found a mass of the Crawling Rot growing, a while back. Managed to get a hold of the property before it became too big. Gotta wait ‘til it blossoms before we can properly burn it.”)

It is curious that, of all people, we didn’t get Adelard’s story of his first few years, how he came in contact with the Powers, with Gertrude, why/how he came to tracking down avatars, so I think there is a good chance we could get a statement about it, indeed. After all, we keep hearing stories of/from people who have been dead for a while; what I’m curious is when/how it could be done in a way that would “add” something else to the current storyline, if we’re done with The Extinction after the season 4 finale…? (Unless we aren’t.) Or it could be about categorising, or the concept of “Faith” against the Fears, I guess.

- There is something heart-breaking putting together his ways of addressing Gertrude in his messages:

(MAG134, Adelard Dekker) “Gertrude; Sorry I can’t be there in person to go over all this with you. I still have a few things to clear off over here, but I thought it would be best to let you know as soon as possible. […] I’ll keep you updated. Stay safe. Adelard.”

(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. […] So: what are your thoughts? I’m keen to hear your own interpretation of this account. […] Keen to know your feelings on the matter. […] 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.”

(MAG113, Adelard Dekker) “Gertrude; It should all be here, though god knows I was tempted to take a block for myself just in case. […] Anyway, you owe me a favour. And… maybe another one once you read this. It might come to nothing, but it’s something you should probably be aware of. […] I’m sure you can take care of yourself, of course, but I thought it would be worth letting you know. Good luck, Gertrude. And enjoy the fireworks.”

(MAG157, Adelard Dekker) “You must forgive me, Gertrude, for any typing and spelling errors that might be in this message. […] This is the last time you will hear from me. You must trust me on that and not come looking. Not that you would; I know you’re too smart for sentimentality, especially after what I have to tell you, but I feel it worth saying nonetheless. […] I’ve wondered, Gertrude, whether you are truly as fearless as you seem; or if you are simply a master of disguising your terror…! I suppose I’ll never have a chance to find out. I rather hope it was the former. However much I disagree with some of your methods, it feels good to believe there are people in this world who can stare down the devil without flinching. […] But it did not seem quite right to leave without letting you know what happened. And… Herr [Becker?] was kind enough to succumb to the sickness without signing out of his computer, so… […] I am proud of the work we have done, and it has been an honour to do it alongside you. Goodbye, Gertrude. May you find your rest where no shadows are cast… and no eyes may see you slumber.”

Politely beginning all his letters with “Gertrude”, except for the last one, which began with apologies. Ending each ones with little words of encouragements and concern (“Stay safe”, “do take care”, “good luck”)… up until that “goodbye” in the last one.

Something that MAG157 put into a new perspective, too: in MAG137, Gertrude had mentioned “Adelard’s back-up plan” to thwart The Unknowing. That recording had happened in October 2014; Adelard had been dead for more than a year at this point. When she sighed right before mentioning him, was it only a pragmatic sigh, linked to the fact that she was a bit at a loss to counter The Stranger? Or was it also because she had lost her closest ally, and someone she had been seeing as a friend despite herself, and who wasn’t there anymore…?

(And in the end, Gertrude didn’t have the time to stop The Unknowing and to follow through with Adelard’s plan. Jon, Tim and the others followed in her footsteps and, without knowing, also in Adelard’s, accomplishing the plans of two dead people…)

(- There is still The Mystery Of Gertrude’s Death and thinking again about MAG113 made me realise that, UHOH???

(MAG113, Adelard Dekker) “Anyway, you owe me a favour. And… maybe another one once you read this. It might come to nothing, but it’s something you should probably be aware of. […] I cannot make any guarantees Justin Gough will remain in the state I left him. And it seems that, as he deals in dreams, it may be worth your while to keep an eye on the statements you take, in case he finds his way here. I’m sure you can take care of yourself, of course, but I thought it would be worth letting you know.” […] ARCHIVIST: This was found tucked into a hard case containing… many blocks of plastic explosive, kept by Gertrude Robinson in a storage unit that I can only assume has… extremely lax oversight. It is unclear if she ever read it. […] I know there are more important things to be doing, but I did ask Basira to have a quick search for Justin Gough, see what might have happened to him. There are records of his residence in an East London care facility until 2015, when he disappears from their records. Several deaths among the staff apparently occurred at roughly the same time. And it will come as no surprise that the inquest returned a verdict of carbon monoxide poisoning in each case. I’m not too concerned, to be honest, my dreams are, uh... well, let’s just say I don’t think they're going be letting anyone else in any time soon.

… Adelard had explicitly warned her about an avatar from The End who dealt with dreams, who went loose again in 2015.

… And Jon wasn’t sure that Gertrude had read this message.

… And in March 2015, Oliver, End-touched person, soon to become avatar, had described his own dreams of Gertrude, terrified, being the target of the vines usually announcing people’s death…

We know that Gertrude didn’t die when she should have (she was still alive in April 2015, if she didn’t lie on the date), and Elias confessed to her murder, and she had plain mundane bullets in her body… But it’s actually extreeeemely suspicious that Justin Gough escaped the year she died? Was The End involved in her death a bit more actively than just through Oliver’s visions…? Or was Oliver’s vision the fate awaiting her if Justin had managed to kill her?)

- One Nice Thing (aesthetically) is that I really experienced Adelard’s realisation right along with him? I assumed that the town was under a new Extinction threat, assumed we were on the verge of meeting our first Extinction avatar… and then, as Adelard already introduced the idea that he had been Wrong and began describing the cause of the town’s downfall, I suddenly realised that OH NO, LANKY AND BROWN COAT, IS THAT–

(MAG157, Adelard Dekker) “No pale spectre in a lab coat, or twisted golem of petri dishes and test tubes. No; he was… lanky, wearing an ill-fitting brown suit and a smile. I’d never previously had the misfortune to meet him, but I knew the description well enough to recognise John Amherst.”

… and it was.

(MAG036, Nicole Baxter) “The door to the reception opened, and a tall man stepped out. He was rail thin and wore a faded brown suit that seemed to have been cut for a much fatter man. His eyes were a watery blue and his dark hair stood on top of his head in an unruly mess. He must have been around forty, but had a nervous sort of energy to him.”

(MAG055) JORDAN: He was tall, maybe 6ft5? But it was hard to be sure of his shape inside the huge, brown suit he was wearing.

(Extra funny thing is that “ill-fitting brown suit” + “a John” also feels really close to how Jon probably looks like from the outside.)

- I’m so sad for Adelard, but also so proud of him in a way?! It’s a really strange feeling because we’ve never heard him live (so far?), but he was still a reassuring figure in some way. I was anticipating that he could have snapped, because I Remember Oliver, but no: although he was giving up pretty fast when it came to saving their potential victims, Adelard was simply someone who would fight what he identified as evil, putting his life on the line when it came to stopping threatening avatars. It’s interesting to compare what we heard of him with Gertrude: Adelard was firm, a bit callous at time, but not keen on sacrificing people to reach his goals, and was personally involving himself in the cases he was investigating… to the cost of his own life, as it happened in MAG157. (So it was not “like Oliver”, it was “like Gerry”. If you like a character, and you feel like they could be helpful/do some good: either they’ve turned into a monster since then, either they’re dead. … Though, now: we… have no Characters Who Are Helping left still alive at the moment – hoping that it could mean that Team Archive will more or less try to go that way but ;; Not very optimistic about it.)

Adelard had expressed that he was afraid of the idea of dying in his sleep:

(MAG113, Adelard Dekker) “I’ll even make it a statement. Give your patron something to keep it satisfied. It’s not like I sleep enough to worry about dreams. […] It’s odd, isn’t it? Sleep. That you can never remember or fully pin down the exact moment you lose consciousness. Just lying there, waiting to find yourself in a dream without the first clue or interest in how or when you got there. Or to find your eyes closed and force them open to sunlight and morning, only realising that sleep has happened in retrospect. I wonder if… death is the same way? No clear dividing line, just… gone, only to realise after it’s happened, except for the fact that there isn’t an after. Is that a comforting thought or a terrifying one? Depends on who you are, I suppose. It bothered me when I was young. If I thought too hard about the concept of sleep, of exactly what it was, I would worry myself, and end up having to turn the light on, and read for an hour or two. Everyone always talks about how they want to die in their sleep, but honestly, I think that’s the death that scares me the most.”

So ;; Best outcome you can hope for really is dying on your own terms, uh. We got it with Tim, and Adelard got to face his own death awake, in a situation he chose to put himself in, also turning it in one last “good” action (putting an end to the suffering of the villagers who… indeed couldn’t be saved at this point):

(MAG157, Adelard Dekker) “This is the last time you will hear from me. […] Perhaps I’m simply prevaricating, trying to cling on to a few more precious minutes of life – but that’s not me. I know what awaits me, and must have no hesitation in going to my reward. [SCOFF] I know you’ve never had much patience for my faith, but perhaps it will provide you some small peace knowing I face my death gladly, knowing I have done my duty before God. […] For all that though, I cannot regret the time I have spent seeking it. I have done my duty; and none may ask more of me. I am proud of the work we have done, and it has been an honour to do it alongside you.”

“Faith” was present in more than one aspect in his last message: as his religion, which had driven him (and in hindsight, I realised that there had been a few words from that lexical field in his past statements) and in which he found comfort in his last moments; as his belief in Gertrude and their “work” together. And, in parallel, there was also a loss of faith, as he was hypothesising that he may have been wrong all along about The Extinction as a Fifteenth Power:

(MAG157, Adelard Dekker) “so… perhaps you were right about The Extinction. I’ve been hunting it for decades now, and… while I have seen evidence of its influence in other Powers, I have never found anything to genuinely prove its emergence as a true Power of its own.”

So, it was a bittersweet ending, but one that didn’t feel utterly crushing either. On the one hand, it’s still a death; it’s upsetting that Adelard died while neutralising a dangerous menace who had caused harm to many people, it’s sad that his death was caused from a Corruption avatar while Adelard had been running after The Extinction all this time – he did something brave and amazing in his last actions, but it would have had more meaning, for him, if it had been against The Extinction… and precisely, John Amherst was a tipping point making Adelard lose faith in his theory. But it’s still honourable, and fits Adelard well, as someone who made that world a bit less dark, who was keeping in mind circumstantial victims without always getting lost in the Big Plans and the Big Picture like Gertrude:

(MAG078, Lawrence Moore) “Then he instructed me to go to my bedroom, and not to leave until he told me it was safe. I did protest at that, and I asked him how my locking myself upstairs would help save Carl. There was no sympathy in his voice when he told me my cousin was dead, that nothing would bring him back, and that my best chance to not join him was to stay in the bedroom until everything was over. He did not seem inclined to tell me what he meant by “everything”.”

(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.”

(MAG156, Adelard Dekker) “… Anyway, I was following up on a young man who had apparently had a nasty experience whilst exploring the ruins of the Bright Lake amusement park in Colorado. 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. […] 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 […].”

(MAG113, Adelard Dekker) “I think that is when I realised he was simply serving The End, which I won’t pretend wasn’t a disappointment. But still, I thought if I could deal with him and save a few lives, I might as well. […] I was not quick enough to save the man who lived in that house. Truth be told, I didn’t especially try. I didn’t think I would be able to move quick enough to do so, and was more concerned with being quiet and thorough. […] I knew it wouldn’t kill him, he’s too far from human for me to do so, but I thought that scrambling his brain a bit was probably my best bet. And I was right, as far as it goes. He survived what I did to him, and when the police picked him up after an ‘anonymous tip’ about a break-in, he was barely able to speak, and I very much hope I managed to sever his dreams.”

(MAG157, Adelard Dekker) “I knew at that moment that there was nothing that could be done to save the town. But I could perhaps identify the cause – and identify it I did. […] So, it seemed it was not The Extinction as I had anticipated but simply a new and awful strain of Corruption. Still. It was not something I felt I could leave to run its course unopposed. […] I have dragged those other afflicted I could find into the Parkplatz, laid them at the feet of that appalling throne, and… taken the last gifts of that… generous construction site: a dozen cans of petrol. I will sit upon that seat, and release these poor souls from their suffering. [INHALE] And hopefully make things simpler, for the ECDC clean-up crews.”

And it’s so soft that his last words were for Gertrude, not berating her, but almost… comforting her?

(MAG157, Adelard Dekker) “For all that though, I cannot regret the time I have spent seeking it. I have done my duty; and none may ask more of me. I am proud of the work we have done, and it has been an honour to do it alongside you. Goodbye, Gertrude. May you find your rest where no shadows are cast… and no eyes may see you slumber.”

(Wishing her the best, uh. I can read the mention of “shadows” as innocuous, but I also wonder if it might not be a direct reference to something of Gertrude’s personal history with The Dark?)

(- I also mean: gdi, what is it with season 4 and the way it’s offering me New Ships For Gertrude. We got Gertrude/Agnes, a bit of Web/Gertrude, I was wondering if she didn’t used to have some Feelings for Eric, now I’m REALLY digging Gertrude/Adelard, gdi.)

- Adelard died in August 2013, Gerry in late 2014. Gertrude had previously lost Michael sometime after late 2009 (MAG126 mentioned the upcoming “Great Twisting”), although in his case, she had minutely planned his sacrifice. I’m not sure Leitner was a good judge of character (was Leitner good at… anything.), but he had gotten the feeling that she was getting lonely:

(MAG080) LEITNER: I think she was lonely. I didn’t meet her until about six years ago, after she’d lost the last of her own assistants. She would mention them sometimes. I believe she missed having someone to talk to on occasion. ARCHIVIST: I… I didn’t know Gertrude had assistants. LEITNER: Of course. Three of them, each meeting an unpleasant end.

(During her last year, Leitner was apparently her last “ally”. That’s telling how low she was, and how bad the situation was, I guess.)

Those were rough years for Gertrude, uh? I wonder how much Adelard’s death impacted her – if she took it in stride, or if it almost made her crumble; they had been allied for at least twenty years, at this point, and it really sounded like she trusted him; there was a very specific enthusiasm when she mentioned the explosives stopping The Last Feast in MAG130?

… on the less bright side, I wonder if Adelard’s death was what pushed her to try and seek out Gerry? She had promised to find him in August 2008:

(MAG154) ERIC: I want you to find my son. If Mary is… if she’s gone, or worse… I want you to make sure he’s alright. GERTRUDE: [HUFF] I’m not exactly a mother figure. ERIC: You could hardly do worse than her. GERTRUDE: Fine. But I don’t know what growing up with Mary has done to him. If he’s… gone rotten, I can’t promise anything. ERIC: I understand. GERTRUDE: I suppose he might be useful. ERIC: Oh, sentimental as ever.

But we know she didn’t do it right away:

(MAG111) GERRY: In the end it was Gertrude who saved me. She came to me when I was desperate, nowhere to go, and she offered to help. […] I think you know the rest. I joined Gertrude’s work for a few years. Didn’t realise how ill I was until it finally caught up with me. Then I died.

Gerry mentioned that they had worked together for “a few years”, but Mary Keay ~died~ in 2008 according to MAG004 and haunted Gerry for “five years” according to him in MAG111, so that would put Gertrude finding him around 2013 – so, they worked together for a bit less than two years, before Gerry died. It could be that Adelard’s death was the reason why Gertrude finally decided to honour the promise she had made to Eric, and if so, yikes. Still utilitarian until the end, uh.

(Though: did Gerry remind her of Adelard, at least a bit, in the way he was waving his way through the Fears and neutralising supernatural occurrences and/or begrudgingly helping people to get out…?)

(- Adelard wondering about whether or not Gertrude felt fear reminded me of Arthur’s comment about it:

(MAG145) ARTHUR: [SCOFF] Yeah. … But you don’t actually care about Them, do you? […] All your energy is focused down here, on monsters and… murderers, and all the things doing the dirty work for Them Beyond. You know plenty, sure! But you don’t have that obsession, that stupid urge to try and understand and… classify things that use logic and reality like weapons. GERTRUDE: Hm. Per–perhaps. ARTHUR: [CHUCKLE] Always respected you for that. Takes a strong stomach to not give a shit. GERTRUDE: Eh! You’ll forgive me if I’m not overjoyed at the compliment?

(MAG157, Adelard Dekker) “I’ve wondered, Gertrude, whether you are truly as fearless as you seem; or if you are simply a master of disguising your terror…! I suppose I’ll never have a chance to find out. I rather hope it was the former. However much I disagree with some of your methods, it feels good to believe there are people in this world who can stare down the devil without flinching. [SHORT SNEER]”

And 1°) it obviously puts Georgie to mind, though in her case, her inability to feel fear was inflicted on her, and 2°) … Oliver had seen Gertrude terrorised in his dreams:

(MAG011, “Antonio Blake”) “Getting closer I realised that there was a person sitting at that desk and it was them that all of this scarlet light was flowing into. I could see none of the figure’s body beneath the flesh that enclosed them, but as I moved around I saw the face was uncovered. It was your face and the expression upon it was far more fearful than any I had seen in eight years of wandering this twilight city. That was when I awoke. […] If you do see this in time and read this far, then to be honest I don’t know what else to tell you. Be careful. There is something coming for you and I don’t know what it is, but it is so much worse than anything I can imagine. At the very least you should look into appointing a successor.”

… so I don’t think Gertrude couldn’t feel it, which means she was probably just really good at hiding it. On the other hand, creature and monsters feel fears and are fed by it, so would it even be possible to fool them if she wasn’t truly fearless?)

- ;; Something bittersweet, too, is that… Gertrude apparently Learned from Adelard and took a page from his book when it came to concrete:

(MAG157, Adelard Dekker) “I can’t deny some pride in my solution, Gertrude. In all our discussions of how to contain a being that we could not destroy… I’m not sure we ever hit on a method quite so neat…! I am no builder but, by the end, I think you would have been hard-pressed to criticise how well that concrete had been laid – and Amherst four feet beneath it.”

(MAG103, Dylan Anderson) “If you hadn’t turned up that evening, I don’t know what I’d have done. I know a monster pig wasn’t what you were looking for, but I do appreciate your advice. When you explained the situation, I hoped you’d have some special trick for dealing with it, but I suppose welding scrap metal around the pen and filling it with cement just about works, even if I do owe Mason a favour for borrowing his mixer. I’d have thought the thing would at least try to break free while I did it, but… thank heaven for small mercies, I suppose. A huge block of solid concrete. What ought to do with it? Some sort of engraving, maybe?”

Monster Pig happened in July 2014, so eleven months after Adelard’s message. And Jon had also noticed that Gertrude’s computer had receipts involving “petrol”:

(MAG157, Adelard Dekker) “I have dragged those other afflicted I could find into the Parkplatz, laid them at the feet of that appalling throne, and… taken the last gifts of that… generous construction site: a dozen cans of petrol.”

(MAG066) ARCHIVIST: There’s also the matter of the products she was ordering. There were several online orders of petrol, lighter fluid, pesticides, and high-powered torches. They are sporadic, but notable in that she did not drive, smoke or work in pest control.

… So maybe it was also an idea she got from Adelard’s last actions. Utilitarian, and/or an homage, in a way.

- I’m also HUMMMM re:Adelard, because if there is one thing that’s been recurring when he was depicted fighting avatars or monsters, it’s that he tended to notice what he could use in his surroundings and improvise a lot…

(MAG113, Adelard Dekker) “Truth be told, I didn’t especially try. I didn’t think I would be able to move quick enough to do so, and was more concerned with being quiet and thorough. The cutlery drawer was largely empty, but after a minute’s searching I did find what I was after: a long, metal skewer. Did you know there are certain forms of brain injury that cut you off from your ability to dream?”

(MAG157, Adelard Dekker) “At first, I was struck almost with despair, having nothing to hand with which I might attempt a confrontation with this creature. But upon retreating some ways, and considering my options, I realised I actually had… almost the exact resources to hand that I might need. A few minutes spent scouting the surrounding streets even revealed a small construction site, almost precisely suited to my requirements. I returned to the cordon and took what I needed: a stretcher, as many quarantine sleeves as I could carry, and a syringe. […] I loaded the gear into a wheelbarrow I had taken from the building site along with a thick metal chain, and began to head back towards the Parkplatz, stopping only to fill the syringe from a can of garden pesticide I had noticed during my earlier sweep of the houses. […] I dragged the thing over to the building site, and with the last of my strength threw him into the hole that had been left. By this point, the concrete truck I had turned on earlier had been mixing for some time, and it was a simple matter to open the pump and… pour the contents of its hopper down on top of him.”

And isn’t it a bit like Basira?

(MAG142) MARTIN: Would have thought Basira would’ve had more sense, though. DAISY: When Basira and I were partners, I’d see this happen sometimes. She can read a… situation like no one I know, always seems to know the right move, but for all her research, she never wants to put a plan together. I think she just hates all the unknowns, the… variables. [SIGH] Contingencies. If she spots an advantage, she’ll… grab it, and trust herself to figure out the details as she goes. MARTIN: Hm. DAISY: It’s worked so far.

- Aaaah, so confirmation/a few more things about The Eye’s effect!

(MAG157, Adelard Dekker) “My hands are shaking quite badly and my fingers… aren’t what they were. Even so, just knowing where this is going, this… statement [CHUCKLE], I can feel The Eye’s power on me, be it ever so slight. Steadying me; helping the words flow. Is it strange that… here… now… that seems almost a comfort…?”

I was wondering if something wasn’t at work in the same way as for live statements since people’s letters were so articulate too – it sounds like just being conscious that you’re sending a message to the Institute and/or an Archivist and/or to an agent of The Eye is enough to put you under The Eye’s spell, because your tale interests it? GOSH, it was so sad that Adelard was aware of it, but also that he was potentially stalling since, as long as he was giving a “statement”, he wouldn’t drop dead or reach a state of too much pain to continue…

I’m curious about the fact that the letters Jonah Magnus was receiving were of the same kind – clear enough to be read as statements. Was it “simply” because his penpals from the XIXth century were quite educated and used to sending long, articulate letters? Or was the fact that they knew they were sending them to Jonah influencing them? If so: was it because he was under The Eye’s effects… or because, specifically, he was an Archivist at the time…? (We still don’t know where Jonah fit, back then, if he was more like Elias, or more like Jon… He was collecting supernatural stories, at least.)

- More on the medium Adelard used to give this statement later, but it was explicitly an email:

(MAG157, Adelard Dekker) “You must forgive me, Gertrude, for any typing and spelling errors that might be in this message. […] But it did not seem quite right to leave without letting you know what happened. And… Herr [Becker?] was kind enough to succumb to the sickness without signing out of his computer, so…”

1°) It… worked on a computer. It went through. We only know for sure that statements don’t record digitally in audio form but I was wondering about written ones, whether they could be typed down… Not sure if that’s a confirmation that yes, they can; or if there is something wrong with this statement; or if it’s that somehow, “something” (Web?) helped Adelard’s message to go through.

2°) … There was no static at any point of it during Jon’s reading. I don’t know when statement-reading static has happened for the last time during narration, but there were many moments in this statement at which there could have been, when describing supernatural things…? Why didn’t the tape recorder react to anything at all during the statement, even though Adelard described his encounter with a very powerful avatar? There were no quoted words or verbal exchanges, yes, but the tape recorders don’t only go All Staticcy at those. Overall, I realise that Jon’s last readings haven’t produced a lot of static? Iirc, there was nothing since MAG148, except for a few lines in MAG153 (“Love Bombing”), when there were direct quotes. Is there something hidden in the fact that the tape recorders are reacting less lately…?

- Adelard’s death was Sad News, but I’m so glad that we learned that John Amherst was actually neutralised a few years ago… in the same episode in which we got confirmation that Melanie is alright, is not regretting her choice one bit, and that it didn’t go supernaturally “wrong” or anything.

(MAG157) ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] … No, you’re right, I’m sorry. A–are you alright? MELANIE: Yes! I’m, hum… actually doing okay…! ARCHIVIST: That’s good. MELANIE: [SOFT CHUCKLES] My therapist isn’t happy about it, you know? Uh, unsurprisingly. Tried to have me put away, but they, uh… they let me come here. It’s, it’s been good for me, though! I… I feel alright. I’m, hum… I’m not scared anymore.

I was so afraid that John Amherst would be re-emerging, thus giving Melanie an incentive to go back to business in order to avenge her father? But nop! John Amherst was sealed under concrete five years ago! We’re not safe from him freeing himself, but it’s a hypothetical, not an active threat. Melanie is just free to… enjoy her life. Really free from All That (at least right now), and she… really sounded like she had found peace ;w;

I do also like that it seems like she’s back to the world. The Institute was a closed universe, with its personal rules – only Section 31 officers go when something happens, the Archives team has been isolated (Jon also mentioned that the regular staff didn’t want to talk with him much lately); but now, Melanie is back to another world, with its own rules and workings. Yes, gouging your eyes out is self-mutilation, and means you need help (although in practice, institutionalisation can make things worse); yes, your therapist is going to get worried about it. (The fact that Melanie still said “my” therapist also said, to me, that she was still seeing her? But aouch for the therapist; she must be used to compartmentalising, she must be used to patients self-harming, but probably not to the point of what Melanie did…)

I’m not absolutely sure it was the intended impression, but I reaaally felt that Melanie was currently on painkillers and/or tranquilisers? Her voice sounded almost too relaxed, she sounded like she had just woken up together with The Admiral, and Georgie was insistent on her resting. Nothing negative there – I would find it a bit reassuring for her to be medically handled right now, actually! Doesn’t have to be forever, doesn’t invalidate her words about feeling fine. Just. Melanie is not isolated; she needed help, she sought it, she did something that is understandably perceived as self-harm by society, and she is being tutored to make sure she can relearn to function. (I also wondered, at first, if Georgie was talking to The Admiral or to Melanie because she sounded a bit too cautious rather than tender and concerned, to me? So that would fit, if Melanie’s under treatment right now, and really not needing the extra strain.)

- We lost Tim and he left… so many… Bi babies… in his wake…

(MAG157) ARCHIVIST: Look, is she here or not? She–she said she was staying with you. GEORGIE: Yes, she’s here. ARCHIVIST: Really? Where’s all her stuff? GEORGIE: Bedroom, why? ARCHIVIST: … No, I just– [STATIC] Oh. Oh! I’m sor– I didn’t– I didn’t realise you were… to–together… GEORGIE: That’s ‘cause it’s none of your business. Now leave.

(MAG086) MELANIE: Then there are some old cuttings about Robin Patton. […] Hmm, wasn’t bad looking, before… well… that.

(MAG106) MELANIE: I don’t think so; Georgie Barker? She does What the Ghost?. […] Well, she and Jon, they… dated. BASIRA: Yeah? MELANIE: I mean, it was years ago.

(That’s also putting another light of Melanie’s discomfort when she mentioned that Jon&Georgie had dated – I was assuming it was mostly because Urk, Don’t Wanna Think About Jon’s Romantic Life since she was Eww at the concept of thinking about him sleeping with Martin, but. (ALSO, the beauty that in the same breath, we had Melanie talking about Georgie, describing past Jon-Georgie, and mentioning Martin’s ~fussing~ over Jon.))

“What’s the Ghost?” is officially queer culture! ;w;

I’m SUPER GLAD for Georgie to get a girlfriend, very !! but a tiny bit less over Melanie&Georgie being together at the moment – but that’s mostly because 1°) I also REALLY love Deep And Very Important Platonic Relationships, and Melanie&Georgie had been that to me so far with Georgie helping her, and we… don’t have a lot of deep friendships at the moment (quite the contrary, we have a lot of pairs who are (not all confirmed but STILL) romantic in nature: Martin-Jon, Basira-Daisy, now Georgie-Melanie), and personal taste but I would have liked to hear about Melanie re-learning to function outside of the Institute before learning that she’s actually romantically involved with the person who had supported her in her steps towards recovery, 2°) … I’m super concerned about Basira&Daisy because, if one romantic relationship had to be canon-canonised, I was expecting them to get that first, and I’m Still Super Afraid About Daisy’s Chances Of Survival By The End Of The Season, so a bit heartlessly strategical here, but thinking that giving us Georgie/Melanie miiiiight be a way to not… destroy all the wlw romances. If Daisy dies, I’m also losing the only Intense Platonic Friendship we have at the moment (hers with Jon), so, sob.

… But then, Melanie is saying that JON IS A FRIEND

(MAG157) GEORGIE: Melanie, you don’t have to do this… MELANIE: It’s, it’s okay. He’s… welcome. As a friend. But that’s it. ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] … Right. MELANIE: But you’re not after a friend, are you, Jon?

AND I WAS NOT EXPECTING THIS NEW CHALLENGER!! IT’S SUCH A WILD DEVELOPMENT THINKING BACK TO THEIR FIRST INTERACTIONS…………………

(MAG028) MELANIE: I knew you guys were a bit… slapdash, but this is absurd. ARCHIVIST: No doubt you’re used to a higher calibre of equipment when pretending to see ghosts in old churchyards and mental institutions. MELANIE: People like a show. People like our show. And, even if we do ham it up a bit, even we do add a bit of sparkle, we’re still more respected and evidence-based paranormal investigators than you and your lot. [NERVOUS, DISPARAGING LAUGH] ARCHIVIST: We are not “paranormal investigators”. We are researchers. Scholars. MELANIE: Whatever. […] ARCHIVIST: Hmm. And you’re sure you weren’t… dreaming? MELANIE: Are you serious? ARCHIVIST: I just have to check every possibility. Obviously working in your field, you must have quite a powerful imagination. MELANIE: Great! Great! I should have known this was a complete waste of my time.

(MAG063) MELANIE: You look like hell. ARCHIVIST: It’s been a hard few months. Look, can I help you, because if you’re just after another shouting match… MELANIE: No! I… I actually do need your help. ARCHIVIST: Hm. Interesting. MELANIE: Alright, can you not be an arsehole about it? I just need access to your library. […] I don’t exactly have the “academic credentials” you guys demand. So I apparently need someone to vouch for me. And you’re basically the closest thing I’ve got to a friend here. ARCHIVIST: We’ve spoken once, and we ended up screaming at each other.

So yes, losing a platonic relationship but getting a new friendship in the process ;w;

- I’m not sure the scene actually played this way? But given how The Admiral purred:

(MAG157) ARCHIVIST: Ah– [DOOR OPENS] MELANIE: Oh? What’s go–, what’s going on? You… you woke The Admiral… GEORGIE: Hey, hey, easy; it’s–it’s alright, he was just leaving. ARCHIVIST: Melanie, I… MELANIE: Jon…? ARCHIVIST: Yeah, it’s… me. GEORGIE: It’s alright, Melanie. Jon, leave. [ADMIRAL STARTS PURRING] ARCHIVIST: I’m sorry, I just… […] I suppose not… GEORGIE: Okay [ADMIRAL MEOWS IN PROTEST], you’re done. [PURRING CEASES] ARCHIVIST: Yeah. [INHALE] Yeah, I am.

I pictured The Admiral rushing towards Jon as soon as Melanie opened the door, more or less climbing on Jon until Jon secured him in his arms. The Admiral’s purrs were loud, so he had to be close to the tape recorder, right? And given his protest when Georgie cut in, she removed him from a comfy place, so that wasn’t Melanie’s arms.

(So: I pictured it as The Admiral in Jon’s arms AND Melanie petting it, able to find him through his purr. Melanie’s voice sounded like she was doing something else at the same time, to me? So yeah. Very close, very intimate, very comfy.)

(Kudos to Georgie for stepping back once Melanie began to talk about herself, without interrupting! She’s a good! Jon also has learnt his lesson from MAG131 and did not interrupt, listened to her! Sadly, Georgie is losing Awesomeness Points because… she retrieved The Admiral before he was done purring? D: Kitty crime??? Georgie, how could you do that to the cat? D:)

- I found Georgie a bit less harsh about Jon, too: not saying that her stances in season 4 haven’t been valid, far from it! But she’s still fair, and she didn’t blame him for Melanie’s injuries, she only pointed out the sacrifice Melanie had to make in order to flee, and wanted to make sure that Jon wouldn’t undo it, which was… extremely legitimate.

(MAG157) [CLICK–] [MUFFLED SOUNDS OF THE STREET] GEORGIE: No, Jon, you’ve done enough! ARCHIVIST: I just need to talk to her. GEORGIE: What don’t you understand? She mutilated herself to get out of that place, and there is absolutely no way I’m letting you involve her again! ARCHIVIST: Look, is she here or not? She–she said she was staying with you.

(And she was right about Jon threatening to pull Melanie back in, since Jon acknowledged he wasn’t really after a “friend” in current circumstances.)

Since Melanie did acknowledge that it might have been hard for Jon to tell her about Eric’s statement, I wonder if Georgie won’t mellow down about Jon a bit, given that Jon has indeed been trying a bit more, lately…? That will depend on Jon’s state at the end of season 4 (are we “losing” him forever? Or will he still try to not totally give in to The Eye, without cutting their link?), but it could be a possibility…

(I liked what we saw of Jon&Georgie’s friendship in season 3 a lot é_è Jon had remembered their break-up as having been a bad one, and despite it, they were getting along in season 3, and Georgie could be harsh and fair with him, so… I still want to cling to the hope that they’d manage to get back on speaking terms at some point, if Jon doesn’t fall entirely and keeps trying like he has begun to do… Maybe there could still be a way for them to build something again… maybe…)

(- At the same time: yes, Melanie&Georgie are legitimate to want to stay out of the supernatural business and to not participate in it anymore.

… On the other hand: if “bad things are coming” and an apocalypse is launched, and the world is changed, and monsters are let loose into the world because what was left of Team Archive wasn’t powerful/competent/numerous enough to prevent it… they won’t have any right to complain about what happens. But that’s interesting, because still “nobody is right/wrong” in their situations, even when they’re not directly harming anybody; if nobody is there to stop powerful avatars, like Adelard did, or to prevent rituals, then what would happen? More victims, probably. So, at the same time, it feels like it’s nobody’s and everybody’s responsibility to step in when they can.)

- Okay, so Basira&Daisy were unavailable, and Jon didn’t have anyone else, but still SOBBING that “someone I can trust” turned out to be Melanie, because gnnn. After learning about Eric’s statement, they made different choices, but I’m so soft for the fact that Jon still valued Melanie’s opinion and…

(MAG157) ARCHIVIST: Melanie, I… MELANIE: Jon…? ARCHIVIST: Yeah, it’s… me. GEORGIE: It’s alright, Melanie. Jon, leave. [ADMIRAL STARTS PURRING] ARCHIVIST: I’m sorry, I just… It’s Martin. MELANIE: Jon… don’t… Please. ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] … No, you’re right, I’m sorry. A–are you alright? MELANIE: Yes! I’m, hum… actually doing okay…! ARCHIVIST: That’s good.

… wanted to make sure she was fine!!! Even in the midst of urgency, of the fact that Martin was very likely in Big Danger and Not Fine, Jon still took the time to ask Melanie about it!!

- Jon Learned but at the same time, so many poor choices of words…

(MAG157) ARCHIVIST: Look, is she here or not? […] Look after yourself. Both of you.

jON… Being an Eye avatar doesn’t mean you have to be insensitive about it…

- ;; Overall: I’m sad that… Jon has indeed learnt. He didn’t dash to the tunnels, trying to find the centre on his own, or to go fight Peter. He immediately understood he needed to think about the broader picture, about who could have wanted him to listen to the tape and read the statement, and his first instinct was to want to talk about it with people he could trust.

(MAG157) ARCHIVIST: Am I just hearing what I want to hear? I need a second opinion, but… Basira and Daisy are… “out”, somewhere. […] I need someone I can trust. [LONG SIGH] […] Please, Georgie, it’s not– … I just need to know I’m not overreacting to something, I need an outside perspective.

It’s mostly that, due to circumstances, all his options have been cut. The timing of Daisy&Basira leaving is definitely too suspicious to think that it was unrelated and had nothing to do with getting Jon isolated, worried, and prone to being easily manipulated into doing something… so I’m guessing that the point was that someone/thing (Elias, Peter or Annabelle) is trying to get him to reach the centre. But Jon did try, and indeed, what other options would he have at the moment? Waiting for Basira&Daisy to come back, while Martin could be getting sacrificed? With the current configuration, I can understand that Jon is not keen on risking it… although, yeah. It’s undoing all the “trust” he was forcing himself to give Martin from afar during this season – his understanding that Martin had a plan, and that Jon had to hope Martin knew what he was doing to ensure Martin’s success. Jon made a mistake once when he tried to “Know” about Peter’s plans at the end of MAG139… and is probably doing a new one right now, confused by urgency. (“A tiny… hairline fracture, which destroys everything.”, to quote MAG139 orz)

… and hum. You know what had previously claimed to bank on Jon’s worry for someone to get him to level up a bit more?

(MAG135) ELIAS: Fine. Consider it a test – things are… coming, things that will need Jon to be far stronger and more willing to use his connection to our patron. His performance during The Unknowing was… disappointing. I needed a way to force him to harness his ability more acutely than he had before. The coffin was a useful tool; Daisy an adequate bait. BASIRA: Then you messed up. Way he tells it, he doesn’t know how he got out of there. ELIAS: But he did. And his powers were no small part of it. Even if he required some assistance, they were what saved him. And he’s still achieved what no one – mortal, monster, or anything in-between – has ever been able to. He climbed out of The Buried. BASIRA: [DRY SIGH] What was the point? You won’t be getting your ritual off from in here so, what do you need him for? What’s so important you need him stronger?

Still squinting very hard about The Bastard and the concept that ~no, he’s not getting his ceremony off from his prison~.

- Amongst all the exchanges, this moment was probably my favourite:

(MAG157) MELANIE: It’s, it’s okay. He’s… welcome. As a friend. But that’s it. ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] … Right. MELANIE: But you’re not after a friend, are you, Jon? ARCHIVIST: I need an ally. MELANIE: Then I can’t help you. [SHORT SILENCE] ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] I suppose not…

Because it immediately conveyed that… Jon wasn’t seeking an opinion about whether or not to try to get involved and help Martin – that opinion would have been a “friend’s”. No; at this point, Jon had already decided to go in. And I like that Melanie, of all people, was immediately able to pinpoint that.

- Laughing forever, though, that YESSS, rule of three re:Jon and wlw:

(MAG089) ARCHIVIST: I just… er, you were a friend of Agnes Montague, correct? JUDE: She’s not one of your little stories.

(MAG117) ARCHIVIST: I think Basira is the same, she's coming along to back-up Daisy, or so she says. I–I– I don't quite get those two, I suppose. What they’ve done, seeing what they’ve seen… It’s a hell of a bond.

I can’t believe it took Beholding’s powers for him to realise. (Though, to be honest: he knew Melanie&Georgie were friends, Georgie was going on dates with other people in season 3, we don’t know whether Georgie is poly or not, so it wasn’t a given that they had gotten together sometime before this episode.)

- You know things are dire when, in the last few episodes: 1°) even Jon said “fuck”, 2°) Jon knocked on a door, not only once but twice.

(MAG146) [CLICK–] ARCHIVIST: [BREATHING HEAVILY, FRANTICALLY BANGING ON A DOOR] [A DOOR CREAKS OPEN] [DISTORTION SOUNDS, BRINGING CONSTANT STATIC] HELEN: You rang~?

(MAG157) [CLICK–] [FRANTICALLY BANGING ON A DOOR] [A DOOR CREAKS OPEN] [DISTORTION SOUNDS, BRINGING CONSTANT STATIC] ARCHIVIST: Helen…! HELEN: Jonathan~?

(Well. Banged on a door that wasn’t there.) Reminder that there is few knocking around Jon, and he still diiiiid it, times are… what they are.

(- When was the last time that someone called Jon “Jonathan”? I only remember Georgie’s “Jonathan Sims, are you trying to save the world?” from MAG093, and Elias in his first appearance:

(MAG017) ARCHIVIST: A complaint? I could just as easily complain about her wasting my time! ELIAS: That’s not how it works, Jonathan.

Helen had been generally replying to Jon on the same level when it came to names/designations, so was she just playful, or was this a way to point out that “Helen” is technically as formal as “Jonathan”, and not something someone close to Jon would call him? Even Melanie calls him “Jon”. Why “Jonathan” suddenly? Just for the variety?)

- SAD for Jon that his option as “ally” was… Helen, given what we’ve seen of her lately:

(MAG157) ARCHIVIST: I need to know that’s in there, what’s at the centre, it’s–it’s important, Martin… I need to know. HELEN: [CONTAINED TITTER] That’s a shame. Because I’m afraid I’m not going to tell you. ARCHIVIST: What…? Why not? HELEN: Because I have a good enough sense of what’s going on to know that it will be much – more – fun – without – my – involvement…! [HELEN LAUGHS AND LAUGHS, ECHOING] […] ARCHIVIST: Just tell me what’s going on – please! HELEN: Bad things, Archivist. [HELEN LAUGHS AND LAUGHS, ECHOING] Really – bad – things!

It sounds like she’s going full Distortion lately, uh? She seemed comparatively so stable and straightforward, in MAG131…

- AHHAHA, Helen had reminded Jon about her sharpness recently:

(MAG152) ARCHIVIST: Huh? You’ve got hands. HELEN: Sharp enough to pull out worms. Kill a few old men. Maybe stab an overeager Archivist… ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] HELEN: But my physicality is as much an illusion as everything else about me. Think of me… as a bear trap. Not a sword.

(MAG157) ARCHIVIST: I don’t have time for this! [STATIC] What is at the centr– [SHARP SOUND AS HELEN GRABS HIM BY THE THROAT] HELEN: No. We are not playing your game now. ARCHIVIST: [PAINED SOUNDS] HELEN: Don’t forget how sharp I can be, Archivist. Perhaps here, now, you’re powerful enough to learn what you want from me. But if you try, I promise you I will resist, and only one of us is going to survive the attempt. [SHARPING SOUND, RETREATING]

“Not a sword”, uh.

And we’re back to Jon getting whumped and threatened by everyone. It’s… interesting that Helen felt that Jon’s compulsion was an actual threat – it had annoyed Jude, too, but Helen directly went for the throat (… apparently, it was actually truly the throat in the script, Anil said). Would getting straight answers from The Distortion cause it harm on an essential level, like it potentially happened with Breekon when Jon “extracted” his statement and got to “know” him?

- Also interesting that Jon’s compulsion is apparently getting stronger? You would think that Jon’s powers would begin to crash and burn since he’s quit taking live statements, especially since Helen advised him to get a victim to replenish himself, but nop. Is it still from the power-boost Jon got when he chose not to die? Is it because of the new Fears he experienced over season 4 (Flesh taking ribs out of him, going and getting out of The Buried, staring at the Dark Sun)? Is it because we’re in 2018, and it’s supposed to be kind of a zenith for Beholding given that it’s the Institute’s anniversary…?

- … I was very scared that Jon might have forced a statement out of someone on the way to Georgie’s, but given how Helen invited him to find one right now, doesn’t seem to be the case!

(MAG157) ARCHIVIST: Fine. [PANTING] Can you take me there? To the centre? HELEN: I honestly don’t know. But I’m not inclined to risk it. ARCHIVIST: Damn you! HELEN: Run home, Jon. Find a victim on the way~ Chaos is coming, and I think you’d best be ready.

Which is a relief ;;

I’m… super worried about Basira and Daisy, who left Jon absolutely unsupervised, and with Jon proving that he is able to go outside. Melanie is not there anymore either to check on him, and Jon had told Martin juuust a few episodes ago that:

(MAG154) ARCHIVIST: Honestly: thank you. [EXHALE] It’s been hell, but… I–I did need to hear it. MARTIN: Oh, hum… Uh, g–good. Heh. Are the others… helping? ARCHIVIST: Oh! [DRY CHUCKLE] They’ve been keeping a… very close eye on me…!

… but no, it’s really not the case right now ;; And I’m worried again. What’s the point of Jon getting caught and made to stop in the last third of the season…? I still feel like if he makes new innocent victims, then it’s indeed over for him (there would be nothing to differentiate him from other avatars who feed and prey on innocents to stay alive); is his withdrawal a step towards something else…? Or is it to exemplify that there could have been another option, that Jon didn’t hold to it and crashed himself down in the end…?

- From their point of view, I’m REALLY worried that Daisy&Basira left suddenly, leaving Jon unsupervised and alone because… why would they.

(MAG157) ARCHIVIST: Am I just hearing what I want to hear? I need a second opinion, but… Basira and Daisy are… “out”, somewhere. They left in a hurry and didn’t tell me why; now, their phones are going to voicemail. Maybe they’re just… on the Underground, and probably th– … That doesn’t help me now. [SIGH]

The way Jon phrased it, it seems like he saw them leaving (it wasn’t that he couldn’t find them or anything), so? Why would they choose to not tell Jon? What could make them leave together, Daisy included, when Daisy was still “weak”? They could be trapped in Helen’s corridors right now (like Tim&Martin at the end of season 2), or in The Lonely because Peter wanted to get Jon absolutely isolated, but I’m still a bit baffled about why they would leave Jon unsupervised and without telling him anything.

1°) Is it that Basira managed to convince Daisy to Hunt again (nooo, Basira, don’t…), and to go after Trevor&Julia… ;; (Or Julia&Trevor were spotted somewhere, and they left to get them with Daisy trying hard not to Hunt.)

2°) Same thing, but with Annabelle Cane?

3°) Maybe they left for the tunnels on their own because something’s happening down there/Basira found something about it in the Archives, and it was really important to not talk about it (because Elias Watching, or The Web having its many eyes on him) and/or because Jon is still an avatar of The Eye…?

4°) Or plainly: they read Adelard’s statement, were the ones who left it on Jon’s desk, and are trying to stop Peter&Martin. … Would still be very stupid, tho, because OF COURSE Jon would panic about it ;; Unless they read it, hid it, and something else pulled it out to get Jon to panic. Could Martin have contacted them about something they need to do without Jon knowing? Basira knew that Martin was planning to go for a self-sacrifice; if it’s tied to this, it could explain why they didn’t tell Jon anything regarding their departure.

5°) … It would still go back in the “but why not tell Jon!!” category, but I’m really worried that there is something very wrong with Elias’s prison right now, hence why they left in a hurry – that either he has disappeared (and/or was “Peter’s map”, so Peter got him out), either the prison is unresponsive and it turns out it has been under Elias’s control for a looong while. He didn’t seem too upset about the prospect of going in MAG120, the Institute was built with strong ties to the Millbank prison (so it’s not an unfamiliar place for The Eye to thrive), and we still don’t know what he’s “eating” (/how come Elias is fine, as an avatar of The Eye, while Jon is suffering so badly from withdrawal? Is Elias himself really under withdrawal?)…

(MAG120) POLICE OFFICER: By all means, mister Bouchard: why don't you have a look in my head, and see exactly what will happen to you when you mess with me. ELIAS: [GRUNT] There will be no need for that, inspector, I’m sure we’ll get along famously. POLICE OFFICER: Good. ELIAS: Best of luck, Martin. Ah, let the others know I shall be thinking of them. MARTIN: [SIGH]

(MAG127) BASIRA: Can we cut the bullshit? ELIAS: What “bullshit” might that be? BASIRA: The part where you pretend you don’t spend your whole time watching us. ELIAS: … Sometimes I’m eating.

+ There is the fact that Elias spent this entire season in prison, and I have trouble picturing him still inside at the beginning of season 5. He’s getting out before that.

- ;; GODS, Jon listening to Martin&Peter’s exchange was so tense and heartbreaking… we knew that Jon had listened to previous tapes, but it was something else to hear his deep breathing, really heavy and conveying how much he was… upset? Worried? Angry about Peter?

(MAG157) [CLICK–] [VERY SHARP SQUEAL OF DISTORTION] MARTIN’S RECORDED VOICE FROM MAG156: “… Will I be coming back?” PETER’S RECORDED VOICE FROM MAG156: “You’re not going to die–” ARCHIVIST: [LONG, SHAKY INHALE] PETER’S RECORDED VOICE FROM MAG156: “–if that’s what you’re asking–” ARCHIVIST: [EXHALE] PETER’S RECORDED VOICE FROM MAG156: “–but… no. If all goes well, you won’t be.” ARCHIVIST: [DEEP, SHAKY BREATHES] MARTIN’S RECORDED VOICE FROM MAG156: “[LONG INHALE, EXHALE]” PETER’S RECORDED VOICE FROM MAG156: “How does that make you feel?” ARCHIVIST: [EXHALE] MARTIN’S RECORDED VOICE FROM MAG156: “… Nothing.” ARCHIVIST: [INHALE] MARTIN’S RECORDED VOICE FROM MAG156: “[SNORT]” ARCHIVIST: [LONG EXHALE] MARTIN’S RECORDED VOICE FROM MAG156: “Nothing at all…!” PETER’S RECORDED VOICE FROM MAG156: “Excellent. I’m so proud of you, Martin.” MARTIN’S RECORDED VOICE FROM MAG156: “I really don’t care.” PETER’S RECORDED VOICE FROM MAG156: “Perfect.” [CLICK.] ARCHIVIST: [LONG INHALE, EXHALE] This… tape was left on my desk.

1°) I was wondering, but Peter’s voice indeed records on tape!

2°) Complete with the squeal of distortions that are his trademark when we’re hearing him live. So it’s indeed something that tampers with the recording a bit, but not to the point of being inaudible.

3°) It was the worst pre- and post-supplemental to hear when it came to Martin… the one when he sounded the most “lost into the Lonely”…………. And he had said he wasn’t sure whether he still cared about ~Jon hearing his voice~ at the start of it…

And at the same time: given how Martin had been so self-aware of being recorded, of Peter being potentially in the room… the question is still open. Elias did acknowledge that Martin was manipulative:

(MAG138) MARTIN: … What? [HUFF] That’s it? No, no monologue, no mindgames? You love manipulating people! ELIAS: That makes two of us. MARTIN: [HUFF]

And was it only about keeping tapes from Jon behind Peter’s back? How much can we trust of what we heard from Martin during season 4? Even Jon had managed to hide that he had attacked people from his recordings; it took Jess’s complaint and Helen calling Jon out for him to admit what he had done. Does Martin truly not “care”, as Peter was glad to hear, or was Martin feeding Peter what he wanted to hear, too…?

(tl;dr Web!Martin is not dead as long as Martin is still alive :|)

(- I'm Still Not Claiming That It’s Romantic On Jon’s Part Until We Get A Very Explicit Confirmation Because I Wanna Raise The Bar Higher, but: Jon… Jon, you big worried bi…

Urk… The fact that he went “Martin” first, before giving Helen a formulation that she probably wanted to hear (=> Jon as an Eye-avatar Wanting To Know…))

(- Last minute Extinction speculation, but I wonder if Adelard’s most important speculation in his last message wasn’t this one:

(MAG157, Adelard Dekker) “while I have seen evidence of its influence in other Powers, I have never found anything to genuinely prove its emergence as a true Power of its own. Perhaps it is an existential fear that flows through the others like a vein of ore”

… what if, indeed, The Extinction had never been a Fifteenth Power… but a kind of enhancer? Every time Adelard was prone to label an occurrence as an Extinction one, it felt like it was operating on a big scale. What if The Extinction is indeed something new, but mostly boosting good old Fears into something bigger, scarier, more effective – and a few of them, such as the Corruption, would obviously be more compatible than others?)

- There are indeed so many options about who left the tape and the statements, and why:

(MAG157) ARCHIVIST: [LONG INHALE, EXHALE] This… tape was left on my desk. I don’t know by who, but to my mind there are… three options. Martin has left it here, to let me know that… whatever the situation is with Peter Lukas, it is entering its final act and he needs my help. Alternatively, Peter may have left it here to… goad me into action? Or just to gloat, to highlight my helplessness and everything. [SIGH] Or Annabelle Cane is trying to manipulate me into thinking it’s one of the other scenarios. Previously, the Spiders have made their presence clear when they’ve sent me… “hints”, but I can’t take that for granted. I don’t know what to do…! [SIGH] There’s a statement with it. It looks pretty recent – hm! First time in a while I’ve been… wary of reading one. … Still. I guess… [LONG INHALE, EXHALE] [PAPER RUSTLING] […] This, uh… this changes things. I–I think. … If Martin found this, r–read it already, then perhaps he’s having… second thoughts about, about Peter and The Extinction, this… this could be a cry for help, his way of asking me to follow him without Peter knowing, or… [EXHALE] Or what? I don’t understand – Martin’s been quite clear he doesn’t want my help…! Am I just hearing what I want to hear? I need a second opinion, but…

1°) But Jon casually ignored the fact that the statement was a last message, sent to an Archivist, to say goodbye, and that… that could have been what Martin was aiming at. (I’m not really digging that Martin would have done that without leaving a message on his own, though; even if he were to stop caring about Jon, he would still keep in mind that Jon would be prone to doing drastic things to try to save people, or to run into danger. He got a whole discussion with Daisy about it in MAG142, and asked Basira not to tell Jon that he wasn’t planning on coming back just a few episodes ago.)

2°) The tape and the statement have been left by different persons/things, and had different purposes, and/or one of the factions could have subtilized something else to prevent Jon to connecting dots.

3°) A big question is also who was aware of Adelard’s last message (and of his death). I lost my bet that Peter had killed him, but still: it’s extremely suspicious that Peter never mentioned in front of Martin the possibility of getting Adelard’s own help… so he must have known it wasn’t an option. We never heard Martin questioning about it, so… Martin might have found out, or guessed about it, too.

4°) Adelard’s message was explicitly an email:

… And Peter’s not good with computers:

(MAG126) PETER: Anyway, I’m very excited to see this rota you’ve put together. Never had much of a gift for– MARTIN: Okay. PETER: –administration myself; too many variables. Now, this box on the left, that’s the library stuff, yes? MARTIN: What? N–n–no, th–th–that’s, no, those are the dates, I– … Look, are you sure you don’t want me to teach you? It’s, it’s a very simple program– PETER: No. No. Can’t stand computers. Besides! That’s why I have an assistant, isn’t it? MARTIN: [SIGH] Yeah. I guess so.

Unlike Annabelle (who was very interest in the www in MAG123), and unlike Martin. Who printed it out? Gertrude? Or someone else, very recently?

- ;; Is next week Jon trying to reach the centre of the tunnels already (and unknowingly being Peter’s map, being tracked when thinking he was tracking Peter&Martin?), using or not using Leitner’s supernatural copy of The Seven Lamps of Architecture, or going to ask Elias for help because he’s desperate………………… I don’t see many more options for Jon at this point… There is still the Threat of Jon’s inner door looming here:

(MAG127) ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] It’s… hard. It’s like there’s a–a–a door, in my mind. And behind it, is… i–is the entire ocean. Before, I didn’t notice it, but now, I know it’s there, and I can’t forget it, and I can feel the pressure of the water on it. I, I, I can keep it closed… but sometimes, when I’m around p–people, or–or places, or… ideas, a drop or two will push through the cracks, at the edges of the door. And I’ll… know something. BASIRA: … What happens, if you open the door? [SILENCE] ARCHIVIST: I drown.

… and I’m dreading that yes, he would try to open it to find the centre, in order to find Martin… ;; (And that there is actually no centre; only Jon, with his sea of knowledge, in the middle, thus precipitating the bad things Helen was cackling about.)

- As usual: what are Elias/Annabelle/Peter’s plans and aims, aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrgggg

(- Hi, guess who was there at every 38th episode of a season so far:

(MAG038) ARCHIVIST: Urgh. Urgh. [SOUND OF CHAIR SCRAPING] I see you… [THUMP… THEN SOUND OF COLLAPSING SHELVES] [NOISES OF EXCLAMATION] [DOOR OPENS] SASHA: Alright? ARCHIVIST: Ah… Yeah. A… spider. SASHA: A spider? ARCHIVIST: Yeah. I tried to kill it… the shelf collapsed. SASHA: I swear, cheap shelves are… Did you get it? ARCHIVIST: Ah… I hope so. Thinks so. Nasty, bulbous looking thing. SASHA: [CHUCKLES] Well, I won’t tell Martin. ARCHIVIST: Oh, god. I don’t think I could stand another lecture on their importance to the ecosystem.

(MAG078) ARCHIVIST: [WHISPERED] It is remarkably easy to buy an axe in Central London. Harder to sneak it into Artefact Storage but not impossible. I don’t know if destroying this is going to kill that thing… but I am damn sure it’s going to hurt. […] Hollow. Just cobwebs and dust.

(MAG118) DAISY: Shut. Up. BASIRA: It’s just cobwebs. ARCHIVIST: There’s no such thing as just cobwebs! I don’t like it. TIM: Tough.

MmMMmmmMMmmmMMMmm.)

Title for MAG158 is… ouft. F–finally, I guess?

So, hum. Beholding, I guess? (It would be the 5th one this season if we count MAG138 as mostly Eye’s… ;;) And probably tunnels stuff. Depending on how the groups are split, could be Peter&Martin, Basira&Daisy&Elias or Elias&Jon, I guess… I’m mostly expecting no statement and a two-part climax like in season 3, but if there is a statement, I guess it could be read/told by Elias, whether alone or ~in company~ (a letter to/from Jonah Magnus? Another thing from Smirke’s earliest days? Something related to [the title itself]?).

Regarding the… less concrete aspect of the title, it… could be either about Elias (is he really confined.), either about Jon and his powers, I guess……………… could be Jon opening his ~inner door~ to try to find Martin/the centre of the maze, too……………….

#mag157 #tma liveblog #tma season 4 #long post/#5 #tma spoilers #the magnus archives

22 notes · View notes

alternislatronemhq · 4 years ago

Photo

Congrats, ELLIE, you have been accepted to AL for the role of SEVERUS SNAPE (FC: aneurin barnard). HOLY CRAPOLY, ELLIE! This app was absolutely fantastic! I couldn’t pull myself away from reading it and was just seriously BLOWN AWAY. This is everything I ever could have dreamed for in a portrayal for a character as central to the plot as Severus is! You truly have a gift and I’m so excited you’re here! Please send in your blog (no sideblogs for first characters, please) in the next 24 hours and be sure to take a look at our new player checklist. Welcome home (once again), we’re so excited to have you join the family!

OOC

name — ellie. age — 20+ pronouns — she/her. timezone — GMT. activity level — i’m not a very fast writer tbh, but i don’t have any other hobbies or rl obligations to keep me from rp atm so i should be able to maintain more than 3 paras a week.

IC Overview

name — severus tobias snape. faceclaim — aneurin barnard, louis garrel, richard harmon. age — 26. gender — cis male.

sexuality — demisexual, biromantic. He lacks the terminology for it, and simply regards sex as yet another social endeavor for which he is ill-equipped.

patronus — doe. yes, it still works. no, he doesn’t understand why or how. he is most certainly not pure of heart. the memory he calls on to summon the patronus is his first dinner with the evans family, where mrs. evans piled his plate high with steak and mashed potatoes and peas, and lily snuck her broccoli onto his plate discreetly while trying not to make a face, and petunia was spending the night at a friend’s house across the street and too far away to ruin the lighthearted atmosphere. they joked and laughed and cleaned the dishes afterwards. it was the first proper family dinner he’s had in his life.

boggart — voldemort. Not, specifically, for the man himself although he is a rather striking figure on his own – but rather for what the man represents to snape. Voldemort represents how far snape’s ambition and thirst for power and knowledge will take him if left unchecked. He represents a hungry and gaping and greedy part of snape that will take and take and take, and grow hungrier and greedier still, uncaring. Losing control in such a manner – allowing himself to be led astray by a mad man and his mad men, doing their bidding and spreading pain and grief and loss, thinking himself so righteous and vindicated – the worst parts of himself, unvarnished, laid bare for him to see. Snape has long since discarded any illusions of himself he may have entertained before the war. He knows the parts that make him up. He knows what he does and why he does it. He knows how far he will go without an anchor — and he fears being unmoored and unrestrained most of all. Fears what he will allow himself to do, without a pragmatic set of rules and ethics to keep him in line.

IC In Depth

personality traits —

+Loyal: snape’s loyalty is difficult to earn, but impossible to lose. He has a thorough, comprehensive, all-or-nothing approach towards loyalty. You either have it or you don’t. All of him or none of him. He will give you his soul – his strength, his work, his honour, his dignity, his life, his word – or he will give you nothing. Thus far, the only people who have earned his loyalty are lily evans and albus dumbledore.

+Sharp: snape is clever and perceptive, his intelligence owed in large due to the many hours spent in his mother’s company as a child, listening to her stories and her theories and her careful instruction. She was not a pleasant woman, nor a kind mother, but she taught him the power of knowledge at a young age, and the sharp glint of intelligence in his eyes matched hers.

+Hardworking: say what you will about snape’s character flaws – of which he has plenty, and of which there is quite a lot to say – but his work ethic has always been and will always be impeccable, beyond reproach. He never does things by half. He is a hard worker who spares no efforts once he sets his mind to a task.

-Antagonistic: he holds firm to an unpleasant disposition and hostile countenance. It is his nature to be wary and suspicious and to hold others in low esteem until proven wrong. Snape takes most attempts at social interaction with a grain of salt, expecting mockery and insolence and responding swiftly in kind.

-Bitter: snape’s biggest motivator is spite. He’s a man of well-groomed grudges, what can he say? growing up in poverty with a bitter mother and an unpleasant father, both of whom were uncreative in how they let out their frustrations and rather liberal in tossing about blame for everything that had gone wrong in their lives, had left him with quite an armful of ill-advised coping methods and a less than stellar personality overall.

-Selfish: it’s not that he’s incapable of love and affection. He is demonstrably and regrettably capable of both. He has, as well, displayed a certain capacity for selfless action when it came to his precious few loved ones. Sometimes. But, well. Well. It’s not his default. He spent many years with his head firmly stuck up his ass, seeing and caring about nothing but his own interests and his own ambitions and dreams finally being realized — and nearly lost the only thing in his rather pathetic life that held any meaning whatsoever. And he is still selfish by nature. Even in the years since he’d come to dumbledore to yet again pledge his allegiance to yet another all powerful and all conniving old wizard – the irony of which was not lost on him, not for a moment, rest assured – selflessness is still an installed feature that he must think consciously of before implementing. And, most of the time, it is not something he chooses to do.

-Deceptive: if snape was the sort to keep count of such things – and, as a spy, he most assuredly is – he would truthfully disclose that, in every relationship he’s built in his life since he was old enough for hogwarts, there is a layer of deception that must be adhered to at all times. An intermingling web of lies and half truths and omissions that must be observed with careful attention, lest the whole thing unravel and spill out his doom. He’s a spy. At least now it’s become part and parcel of who he is. At least, he now has a quasi-noble purpose to attach to the rather sticky threads of which he is – secretly – fond. He can admit, if only to himself, that he doesn’t know how to build a relationship without some form of deception to maintain throughout.

character biography —

PROLOGUE.

he stands on his tiptoes over the wooden chair, stirring with the ladle in both hands. clockwise, clockwise, counter-clockwise…. let the ladle rest against the side of the cauldron for thirty seconds. the liquid is two shades off. he adds a pinch of powder, and the color adjusts.

mam’s sharp eyes follow his every move. she nods, stiffly. tension uncoils from his shoulders. “when you get to hogwarts,” she says, brusque, “you’ll be at the top of your class.”

it’s not explicit praise, told more like a command, really, but it’s close enough. emboldened, he asks, “will i ‘ave friends at ‘ogwarts?” he looks up. watches. “lots and lots o’ friends?”

mam blinks. the silence stretches. she pats his head, drops her hand down to his shoulder. “of course, sev. lots and lots. now help me pack everything away before your dad comes home.”

ACT I.

can a place be both hell and home?

well, if it can be — if it’s possible to love and hate a place with equal intensity, if it’s possible to feel like a jigsaw puzzle slotting into place at last and still look over your shoulder and jump at every sound — if it is, then to severus, hogwarts was that place. the home that was unsafe, the home with danger at every corner, the home with no way out. no way out but through.

it’s not s’pposed to be like this, he’d thought, eleven and still a touch naive. this can’t be right. but what did he know about homes and safety, anyway? was Spinner’s End not the same, except smaller and with less magic? did he not look over his shoulder and watch his every step just the same?

being a halfblood matters, more than he thought it would. and being a slytherin matters, but not in the way he’d thought. a poor, dirty, halfblood slytherin with a nasty attitude and an uncouth accent stood out like a rotten stink. hogwarts was magical and whimsical, but it was just a place, just like any other, and the students were just students, and the bullies were just bullies. and sev was still sev, wand or no wand. hogwarts did not fix him and make him better. it did not give him friends on a silver platter.

what it gave him, instead, was knowledge. yes, he spent years the target of relentless bullying, made more enemies than friends and few acquaintances who were in between, but the library was his home. He devoured knowledge with a single-minded intensity, filled with such joy at learning new concepts and spells that it made everything else he had to put up with worth the effort. He badgered his teachers relentlessly with increasingly complex questions, and often times concerning lines of inquiry, and experimented with new spells and potions early on — first with lily, then without — filling notebooks with ideas and information and half formed thoughts. At the age of thirteen, he’d begun working on his own grimoire, writing down his own potions recipes and his modifications to existing potions. All the great potions masters have their own grimoires, why shouldn’t he start his own now?

He isn’t sure when his views began to shift. Somewhere along the way, the facade he’d put on for his housemates began to seep through the cracks and into the boy underneath. it became so much easier to hate muggles and then muggleborns, to blame them for everything that went wrong in his life, to use this hatred as an outlet for all his frustrations he already had with his own life.

By the time the dark lord called, severus was well and truly indoctrinated. It didn’t take much to convince himself that this was the right thing to do.

ACT II.

He takes the mark.

Things… escalate.

They ask him to do terrible things, and he does them fastidiously. He does not feel satisfaction or pleasure when killing and torturing, though he hardly lets that stop him from doing exactly as he’s instructed, to the letter, and sometimes beyond. Vying for the attention and approval of the man who held his soul in the palm of his hand, indifferent to it’s fate, careless in his handling unless the little halfblood proved himself useful. And he did. He proved himself clever, gifted, loyal, ruthless. He worked hard to earn his place, knowing the alternative.

It’s not like he doesn’t know he’s in a genocidal cult. At some point, even the most indoctrinated could see what this was. The dark lord wanted servants to do his bidding, not allies to share in the glory and the power. The dark lord was strikingly clever, imposing and powerful, and stark raving mad.

But severus was marked. He couldn’t put himself at risk, couldn’t think of stepping out of line with his master’s mark upon his arm. The only way out was through.

severus was thorough. he followed instructions to completion, with a single minded focus. he did his work with a professional detachment, a nonbeliever in the guise of a devotee.

And then, he came upon a prophecy.

ACT III.

The dark lord’s fall is a gift that severus doesn’t know what to do with. He’d spent so long treading a worn thread like a tightrope over the brink of hell itself, that the thought of letting his guard down for even a moment sends his every sense screaming DANGER! DANGER! DANGER!

He feels like a man who’s been running full pelt, nonstop, like he was running his whole life and suddenly the ground is pulled from beneath him and he’s free-falling into nothingness. Lily is safe. Unhappy, but alive, and for that he is more grateful than he could’ve ever imagined.

But he is alive, too. And for all his plots and schemes, it didn’t occur to him that he’d make it to the other end of this war in one piece. Not since he turned spy.

The question mark hangs over his head all the way through the chaos following the dark lord’s fall. Severus, sitting through trial after trial, feels as though his ears are stuffed full of cotton and his senses are veiled through with fog. Only in the aftermath of his own trial, when dumbledore rests a hand upon his shoulder and grants him a proud smile does severus begin to hope.

Dumbledore saves him. He gives him a home, a job, a purpose. He guides him through the darkest hour of his life.

Even through the fog, Severus can see it: the headmaster’s true intentions. He knows he must be of some use to the headmaster still, that dumbledore is simply working to gain his true loyalty. That all severus had really done on that stormy night was trade one master for another.

But dumbledore, for all his machinations, is still a good man. There are worse masters to grovel to, as he very well knows. And lily is safe, just as promised. It’s only right that severus pay back his due.

ACT IV.

Once he finds his footing, severus gets busy. He integrates himself with the remaining loyal death eaters as seamlessly as possible, works to maintain at least civil relationships with high ranking order members — with a few notable exceptions — and begins to, brick by brick, build his life from the ground up.

The following years are filled with quiet self reflection. Severus grows more critical of himself, of his actions, of his beliefs. He pulls apart his motives and his reasons for joining the dark lord, inspects his role in the war unsympathetically, the impact he’s had on the lives of others. He does not like what he sees. but he does not look away.

He’s created violent and dark spells for the dark lord during his service. Spells with no counter, or a secret one. Spells the death eaters all knew and used. If he had died in the war as he’d come to expect to, these spells would’ve been his only legacy. His only contribution to the wizarding world. unparalleled violence.

This is who he is. This is what he’s done. He cannot undo it, he cannot be forgiven. but he can strive to be… better. And he does.

beyond the waiting and watching and listening, severus shifts the bulk of his focus upon his work. He creates and tests potions with the needs of the wizarding community in mind, puts his brilliance to good use. He follows a strict code of ethics, to the letter, holds himself to task when it is not properly adhered to. He takes responsibility for the things he releases into the world. He builds himself a respectable reputation in his fields of study, his articles and discoveries published in peer-reviewed journals and papers, his work talked about in academic circles with something like respect.

As the whispers spread and the death eaters prepare for their next move, severus shifts to a ready stance. He has more to fight for — more to live for, now — than he had five years ago. He is ready.

plot ideas —

oh, god, i’m SO excited to explore what snape post-war would’ve been like if he didn’t lose lily. what happened in the books is that lily’s death and his role in it sent him down a spiral of self loathing, guilt, and suicide ideation – and he wallowed in his grief and his guilt for the rest of his life. the trajectory of his life after lily’s death shifted to protecting her son and serving dumbledore. he stopped thinking of his own ends and started viewing himself as a means to an end, that end being the physical safety of lily’s boy (disregarding, of course, the mental wellbeing of potter’s spawn) and while there was growth in his own views over the years i can’t help but think it was greatly stunted by his own grief.

what i want to explore with snape is growth. realistic, nonlinear, steady growth over the years after the war, where he becomes more critical of both himself, his motives, his thinking, and the impact of his actions on other people and the world. he grew up a precocious child with no proper adult guidance, and all his life lessons he’s learned through first hand experience. and like any other 17-year-old, he thought he knew everything. He was reckless and arrogant, and he made terrible choices confidently, with no regard to the greater consequences. post-war snape is painfully aware of his own shortcomings, is trying to be better, not for the sake of being a good person but for the sake of proper self discipline and self control. he never wants to lose control of himself and allow his ambitions and his greed to take him to such lengths again. he wants to have a more positive impact on the world around him, even if he himself is still an objectively bad person, even if he himself is still selfish and deceptive and eaten up by greed.

so how can a bad person be good? by doing good things, even if he’s doing it for the wrong reasons. and snape is doing it for the wrong reasons, he’s well aware of that. He doesn’t have the intuitive grasp of right and wrong that lily always had. He can’t simply do what feels right, as that never turned out to be the right thing at all. Instead, he does what he calculates as having the most positive impact on the biggest number of people, regardless of whether or not it feels right to him. He acts in the interests of the greater good.

It’s a very utilitarian approach. Not dissimilar to dumbledore, who took snape in after the war and was more or less his mentor figure the years following. but unlike dumbledore, snape does not disregard or dismiss the individual lives of people he comes across, is very mindful of his own personal impact in the individual lives of the people around him. in canon, snape is horrified at dumbledore’s plan for harry. dumbledore asks him how many men and women he’s watched die, and snape’s response to that is ‘lately, only those whom i could not save.’ this interaction perfectly encapsulates the differences in morality between the two men. snape is capable of making sacrifices for the greater good and strives to work towards ending the war, making moral compromises towards that end. but his faith in the greater good is limited. When it comes down to it, snape is loyal to people, not causes. And often, since he’s made the conscious decision to become a better person, risks his life for the sake of others.

Another thing i want to explore with snape is his interpersonal relationships. Because, god. Come onnnnnnnnn. His two best friends are lily evans and lucius malfoy. For fucks sake. Lily who cut ties with him when they were 16 and whose husband he is partially responsible for sending to an indefinite coma, yikes, and lucius, for whom he feels the most straightforward affection and who he’s actually quite prepared to stab in the back when the time comes. And it will come, soon enough.

He has….. Complicated relationships. And complicated views on intimacy. He has a tendency to separate his feelings from his duty, which sometimes leads to him doing terrible things to people he cares about. Lying, stealing, manipulating, etc etc etc. it does not mean, to him, that he cares about these people any less. Regrettably, he cares too much, and can’t stop caring once he starts. It does not mean the people he cares about are safe with him. And i want to explore that, especially in his relationships with lily and lucius, as well as his fellow death eaters.

Speaking of the death eaters. Snape was already a high ranking death eater before the dark lord fell, and he’d worked very hard the last five years to integrate himself irrevocably within the ranks of the remaining death eaters. He’d observed their dynamics and worked to make himself seem as loyal and irreplaceable as can be. No doubt he formed many a bond with many a member, not all of them built on lies. And he would take special interest in the hesitant, wavering loyalties, poking and prodding to see how he can use them to further his own position within the death eaters ranks. There’s a lot of potential for inner-politics and sabotage within the DE.

extra —

Mockblog @ sevsnpe.tumblr.com

headcanons:

Snape had a thick manchester accent growing up that was very quickly packed away and replaced with ‘respectable speech’ a few weeks into his stay in the snake pit. When he’s angry or emotional he speaks very slowly and deliberately, his voice dropping in octaves and growing very soft and precise. it becomes very difficult for him to keep control of his speech. He slips on occasion when he and lily are alone.

Eileen sold wonderful ailment-soothing ‘tea’ for her neighbours. severus helped her brew these concoctions regularly as a kid, when he was still too short to reach the tabletop without standing on a chair.

Snape looks up to dumbledore and seeks his approval. It infuriates him to no end, that so much of his own decision-making hinges on the older man’s opinion of him, that he cares what albus thinks of him at all. But after the dark lord’s fall, snape was lost and fumbling, trying to make sense of the world, of himself, of his next steps. He desperately wanted to be a better man, but had neither the tools nor the guidance to do so. if albus hadn’t taken him under his wing, he doesn’t know where he’d be now.

he’s a heavy smoker. he picked up smoking post-war and is not in any hurry to quit. he can stop whenever he wants to anyway.

he maintains a private library in his rooms at hogwarts. he’s as possessive of it and as territorial as a dog. he’s accumulated a very impressive collection of rare books and journals over the years, and a long list of contacts in the private book collectors and book sellers circles to go with. a disproportionate number of his books are highly illegal and officially labelled ‘dark’.

the bulk of his focus, after the war, is split between two things. integrating himself further into the remaining circle of death eaters, and his own personal research into the mind arts, potions, and dark magic, which he conducts in his capacity as potions master and professor at hogwarts. he’s made several discoveries in potions study and published multiple articles in academic journals over the last five years, building himself a respectable reputation and body of works within his field. beyond the fact that such academic pursuits are his passion, his work gives him tangible proof that he is capable of positive contributions to the world around him. that he is capable of doing good, even if he himself is a bad person. his work and his growing reputation gives him something to look forward to after the war. it’s something unrelated to the death eaters and to lily, it’s something completely his own. he is very defensive and protective of his research.

Once or twice a month, snape visits muggle london and spends a few hours in a public library. It’s calming, reading books to simply pass the time. He won’t admit this to anyone, but the connection he has to the muggle world is something he’s learned to accept and even take comfort in from time to time.

#al:accepted #severus snape #harry potter rp #hp rp #marauders era rp

1 note · View note