#to the point that I gained an irational fear that if one of my friends didn’t come to school and I didn’t know why then it totally

[fruitisthenewvegitable]

Adding on to this:

Nah, it’s okay you can keep it. I’m currently working on healing myself from what that friendship did to me mentally

hey man I found a piece of your soul stuck in the text messages of old friends you don’t speak to anymore. do you want it back

[ramblings-of-a-chaotic-neutral]

Hello again everyone! It's time for another Merlin au! This time featuring Uther's propaganda and a healthy dose of misunderstandings and pain! :D

This au was inspired by an idea that I pitched in a reblog of one of @tamaha's amazing posts! (Also, shoutout to my awesome mutual @achillesuwu, since you asked to be tagged when I wrote this! :) ) You can find that original reblog here!

EDIT: You can find part two of this au here!

In canon, we know that Uther had children drowned for using magic, and that most of those children were likely warlocks who were born with their magic. However, we also know that most people in Camelot believe that magic is a choice and that it's impossible for someone to be born with it, so how did Uther justify to his people both the existence of child warlocks and the killing of children for something that they had no control over?

Well, Uther utilized his propaganda to justify killing young warlocks. He found some ancient text that hypothesized that warlocks got their powers from being reborn demons, and he used those very shoddy sources to justify his actions.

He spun stories about how warlocks looked human, but weren't human at all. He told the people that while those warlock children might have looked like regular humans, they would grow into powerful demons that would hunt down regular humans and eat their souls to gain more power.

Uther's propaganda campaign was successful, and soon, warlocks were some of the most feared magical creatures in Camelot. The people were terrified at the thought of a beast that could consume souls and blend in among them, unable to detected until it was too late.

Warlocks were a regular element of the nightmares of all of the children in Camelot, who would jump at every shadow and wonder if it was a warlock, there to devour them. Arthur was among those children, lying awake late at night, trembling with fear at the thought of any person he passed on the street being a warlock who would eat his very soul, denying him any afterlife and instead turning his soul into more magical power for the warlock.

And fast forward to some point after Arthur's become king, Merlin has a pretty painless magic reveal. Arthur and the knights were out hunting, they all get ambushed by bandits, Arthur takes a bad hit that would probably be fatal, but Merlin rushes to his side and, without hesitation, uses magic to heal Arthur's wound.

Arthur was, of course, very upset to learn that his manservant and best friend has magic, and they have a big argument over it, but no one physically attacks anyone (despite Gwaine's threats to kill Arthur and the rest of the knights and run away with Merlin).

So, everyone endures a rather tense and awkward ride back to Camelot, where Merlin is the recipient of many irate glares from Arthur and reassuring looks from the knights. When they reach Camelot, Arthur bans Merlin from his presence until he calls for Merlin again. He says that he can't stand the sight of Merlin at the moment, but Merlin will owe him a full explanation later. Merlin tearfully agrees and holes himself up in Gaius's chambers for a few days, while Arthur makes an ass of himself with his foul mood, snapping at everyone in the castle.

The knights try to point out to Arthur that while, yes, Merlin had magic and had lied to Arthur, he had only revealed it to save Arthur's life. Most of the knights used that point as a tool to comfort Arthur and ease his temper, but Gwaine used that fact to rub it in Arthur's face how terrible of a person Arthur was being towards the man who had just saved his life.

Finally, after the whole castle had to suffer through five days of Arthur's prattish and unpleasant behavior, Arthur summoned Merlin to his chambers, feeling calm enough again to actually hear whatever nonsensical reasons Merlin would give for turning to magic.

You see, what Arthur, the knights, and pretty much everyone in the castle had assumed was that Merlin had probably just picked up on some small useful enchantments and healing spells for Gaius's old study of that material. Arthur was angry at Merlin for turning to magic, but he could understand where Merlin was coming from.

Everyone knew that Merlin cared about his friends to the point of idiocy, so it made logical sense that Merlin, since he had the resources available to him, would resort to learning healing magic in case of an emergency. Arthur understood that aspect of Merlin more than anyone else.

Knowing that Merlin's magic was probably just the result of him being a loving and caring idiot did help ease the blow for Arthur, and truthfully Arthur didn't plan on punishing Merlin at all. To Arthur, hopefully confining Merlin to his chambers for a few days would discourage any future stupidity along these lines, and they could put this entire situation behind them.

So, when Arthur summoned a distressingly pale Merlin to his chambers and demanded an explanation, he expected to receive some stuttered response about learning a few spells from some of Gaius's spare books and to extract a promise out of Merlin that he'd never turn to magic again, and then everything would be fine.

However, when a wrought looking Merlin opened his mouth to explain, Arthur's heart plummeted to the floor. At the very first words of Merlin's explanation, "I was born with it," Arthur's chest went cold, and he took a few staggering steps backwards until his back hit the cold wall behind him, his eyes seeking out his blade.

Merlin was born with magic. That made Merlin a... a...

"Warlock," Arthur whispered, his eyes teary and terrified all at once.

Merlin stopped his explanation and tilted his head at Arthur, a small grin pulling on his lips. Arthur flinched back slightly at the sight of it, unable to form a coherent thought beyond the all-encompassing terror, dread, and sorrow that swirled around his mind.

"Ah, so you do know the correct word for it then! Yes, I am technically a warlock, but the distinction doesn't really matter that much anyways."

Merlin made a dismissive gesture with his hand, as if his words hadn't just completely shattered Arthur's heart. Arthur couldn't even listen to the rest of Merlin's explanation through the rush of his heartbeat and breathing in his ears.

The terror gripping his heart shouted at him to fight or flee, don't just stand there waiting for him to decide that he's feeling peckish for souls!

Arthur suddenly registered the pallor of Merlin's skin and the hollowness of his cheeks and came to the awful conclusion that he doesn't have much time, Merlin's already hungry and Merlin was stepping closer there was no time to escape nonono!

Arthur closed his eyes, unable to look at what must have been Merlin unfurling whatever demonic jaws he kept hidden and preparing to eat Arthur's soul...

But the sensation of his soul being devoured, whatever that was supposed to feel like, never came. Instead, he just felt a hand on his forehead, and after a few seconds another one cupped the side of his face.

Arthur hesitantly opened his eyes, almost not wanting to look upon Merlin's happy, friendly face that had always brought nothing but comfort. He didn't want those caring eyes to be that last thing he saw before he died at Merlin's hand!

Slowly, Arthur steeled himself and blinked the tears from his eyes, willing to at least face his death like a true warrior, looking at it head-on.

But, as his vision cleared from the tears, Merlin didn't look like his death, or like any sort of soul-eating monster. He just looked like Merlin, and by god wasn't that the worst part of it?

Merlin slowly smiled at him as his tears dried, coaxing him away from the wall and towards his armchair by the fireplace. Merlin gently guided him over to chair and helped him into his seat, holding Arthur's hand the entire time.

Arthur, once he was sitting, looked over at Merlin, still holding onto his hand and whispering comforting words to him, and Arthur felt like a small, scared child again, freshly awoken from a nightmare and jumping at every shadow.

It took what must have been hours for Arthur to catch his breath, stop his tears, and cease his body's terrified trembling, and Merlin sat next to him the entire time, drying Arthur's tears and comforting him.

Eventually, Arthur looked Merlin in the eyes again, and he could find nothing in them but love and care.

Whatever Merlin was, however hungry he must have been after going five days without being able to hunt for souls to devour, he apparently didn't see Arthur as a target.

Arthur took a deep breath, maintaining eye contact with Merlin. Alright, Merlin might be a soul-eating demon straight out of Camelot's worst nightmares, but he saw Arthur as a friend, not a meal. Arthur... Arthur could work with that.

He just... he needed more information before doing anything else. Merlin was still looking at him with love and concern, and with each passing moment, Arthur became more and more convinced that Merlin was still Merlin, warlock or not. And damn it all, that still counted for something. It had to count for something.

Now that his fear was marginally under control, questions swirled around Arthur's head. How did Merlin even eat souls before this? How often did he need to eat? Did he need to also eat food, or did he sustain himself and his powers on souls alone?

Before he could ask Merlin any of the pressing questions that were on his mind, Merlin had already helped Arthur out of his chair and towards his bed, readying a limp Arthur for bed whilst the king was drowning in his own thoughts.

Before Arthur even knew it, Merlin was pulling blankets over him and snuffing out the candles in his room. Merlin promised to visit Arthur again in the morning to tell him more, and Arthur barely registered his words over the storm of his own thoughts.

When morning came, Arthur couldn't even tell if he had gotten any sleep throughout the night or not, but he woke up exhausted either way. Only a few minutes after the sun had risen, Merlin burst into the room, still looking paler than usual and helping himself to one of the sausages that was supposed to be a part of Arthur's breakfast.

Just the sight of Merlin eating anything made Arthur feel slightly queasy, imaging some terrified soul being devoured at Merlin's hands. Arthur took a deep, steadying breath before getting out of bed, allowing Merlin to dress him as he normally did.

Merlin, much to Arthur's relief, was still acting like nothing had changed, like he was still the same harmless Merlin that Arthur knew him as before yesterday.

If that was how Merlin wanted to act, then Arthur was fine with it. Truthfully, even with all of the questions that Arthur had surrounding Merlin's nature, he found that he didn't really want answers to any of them. Answers would make this new reality, one where Merlin was never harmless at all and where there was a demon hiding under his best friend's skin, real for Arthur. If Arthur didn't have any answers, then he could just... pretend that everything was still fine, like nothing was wrong.

To keep Merlin by his side, he would gladly accept ignorance and pretend like nothing had changed.

However, there was still one issue that Arthur needed an answer to, to confirm that Merlin was still the man who Arthur always thought him to be.

As Merlin was cleaning up Arthur's breakfast plate, Arthur cleared his throat, getting Merlin's attention. Merlin quickly turned around to meet Arthur's gaze, but Arthur didn't feel scared meeting his eyes this time.

"Merlin, I'm willing to let everything that was revealed yesterday be forgiven, and everything can go back to normal."

Merlin gave Arthur a beaming smile at his words, and Arthur continued with a solemn heart.

"However, there is one thing I need to know. You've never..."

Somehow, the words eaten the soul of an innocent person were so vile that they refused to pass Arthur's lips, so he chooses an alternative.

"... hurt anyone who didn't deserve it, right? And you never will in the future? If we are to have any sort of trust between us, you must answer me honestly"

Arthur figured that, if Merlin was indeed forced to eat souls to survive, Merlin was probably feeding on bandits or enemy soldiers that Arthur and the knights would've killed anyways. It was the only explanation, as innocent people didn't mysteriously turn up dead regularly enough in Camelot to indicate that Merlin was feeding on them, and Arthur knew, deep down, that no matter what he was, Merlin would never do such a thing.

Merlin froze at Arthur's words, his smile falling. He lowered his gaze briefly, before meeting Arthur's eyes once more, determination shining brightly in his eyes.

"Arthur, I swear to you, anyone whom I've hurt with my powers were enemies of Camelot. Whatever I've done, I did it to protect you and your subjects."

Arthur nodded, satisfied and relieved by Merlin's answer. Nothing had to change then, Merlin was still his friend and manservant, albeit with powerful magic and an appetite for the souls of his enemies. Arthur could... tolerate that.

As the weeks went on, Arthur found himself thinking about this new side to Merlin less and less. Merlin was still acting exactly as himself, so there was no reason for Arthur to worry, let alone dwell on any thoughts of warlocks.

(And if he had a familiar nightmare from his childhood featuring a warlock, then that was Arthur's business and Arthur's business alone.)

Everything was fine, and months passed without any incidents. That was, however, until Arthur noticed Merlin becoming paler, his cheeks hollowing out again, and his eyes sporting heavy bags. As he took in the changes in Merlin over the past few days, he came to the sickening conclusion: Merlin was getting hungry again, and would need a soul to eat soon.

But Camelot was at peace, there were noticeably less bandits roaming the streets in the past year, and no assassins had come to the castle in the past months. Arthur could see that Merlin's usual... hunting grounds... had been drying up, and he needed to find a solution immediately. Arthur shivered at the thought of what devastation Merlin would unintentionally bring down upon all of them if his hunger ever got out of control.

After several hours of brainstorming on Arthur's part, he finally had an idea. It sickened him to have to consider, but he would do what he had to for the sake of Camelot.

Arthur called for Merlin to follow him as he made his way into the dungeons, where only one prisoner was currently being held. The prisoner was a minor noble who had killed several of his own servants and then used his status as a member of the nobility to cover up his involvement in the murders.

However, the nobleman was sloppy, and there was evidence left behind that proved his guilt without a doubt. He was set to be hanged for his crimes in two days time, as per Arthur's own judgement at the noble's trial, but... if he was going to be executed anyways... perhaps his death may be of use.

(What Arthur didn't know was that the real reason why Merlin looked so exhausted was because Merlin had spent every night for the past week searching for and compiling evidence that the nobleman was behind the murders, as the bastard would've gotten away with it otherwise.)

To Arthur, the criminal's death could be used to ensure that Camelot's only source of magical protection (and Arthur's best and dearest friend) didn't starve to death or go into a hunger-induced rampage, whichever came first.

Slowly, Arthur made his way to the nobleman's cell with Merlin trailing after him, where the criminal was bound to a chair on Arthur's orders. Arthur solemnly opened the door to the cell, gesturing for Merlin to follow him inside.

As soon as Arthur set foot in the cell, the nobleman started begging him for mercy, pleading with him to lower his sentence, not knowing what punishment Arthur truly had in mind for him. Ignoring the soon-to-be dead man, Arthur turned towards Merlin, who was startled by Arthur's intense stare.

"Arthur? What's going on?"

"Merlin," Arthur choked out, his voice rough with guilt, sorrow, and fear alike. Merlin rushed to Arthur's side at the sound, trying to urge him out of the cell, away from whatever issue was causing Arthur such pain.

Standing firm, Arthur cleared his throat.

"Merlin, I need you to... to do something for me."

Concern marred Merlin features as he reached out to Arthur.

"Of course, I would do anything for you Arthur."

Arthur swallowed roughly, trying to force his next words out of his throat. He'd ordered executions before, hell, he'd even ordered this man's execution before, but this was much, much harder than any of the other orders he'd given.

"Merlin, I need you to... take care of this man, as you normally do for enemies of Camelot."

Merlin reeled back with shock, looking somewhere between confused and hurt.

"Arthur, you can't possibly mean for me to..."

"I'm sorry, but yes Merlin, it needs to be done."

Merlin stared at Arthur for a few more moments, before slowly nodding his head and turning towards the bound criminal.

As Merlin stepped closer to the doomed noble, Arthur closed his eyes and turned his head away. Perhaps it was cowardice, but if there were ever a time for Arthur to show such cowardly behavior, it was here. He didn't want to see this part of Merlin.

He did, however, hear everything. There was a scream from the criminal, which was sickeningly cut off by a loud wet crunch that echoes off of the cell's walls, and then there was no sound in the cell except a very loud silence.

Arthur slowly opened his eyes to the sight of Merlin standing in front of a corpse and tried to believe that everything was still normal.

And that's a wrap on this au! Man, that got darker than I expected it to be.

Be sure to let me know if you'd like a continuation of this au!

And, as always, thank you for reading through my ramblings! :D

[relia-robot-writes]

I was watching the trailer for Crescent County and thinking about witches, changelings, and lesbians, and, well, here we are.

Ivy hopped off her broom and leaned it against the outer wall of Kina's apartment. She tucked her goggles into the pocket of her leather jacket, held her pointed hat in both hands, and took a deep breath as she ascended the stairs.

"I should have come sooner..." Too melodramatic. "Hey, Kina, can we talk?" Too anxiety inducing. "Kina! Hey! Listen..." No. "I apologize for my actions..." Ugh, She sounded like a corporate stooge. Ivy felt the envelope in her pocket. She'd tried to write out how she felt, in case she chickened out and couldn't say anything. But that'd be almost worse.

Kina's door. Ivy closed her eyes, straightened her back, and knocked on the door.

No response. Ivy opened one eye.

The door was open.

She pushed her way inside. "Kina?" She called. The apartment was nearly empty, save for a small envelope with Kina's delicate handwriting on top - "to Ivy."

Ivy picked it up and started to read it. Her eyes went wide as she scanned down the page. Phrases jumped out at her; "by the time you read this," "I can't be here anymore," "back where I belong." Ivy dropped the letter and bolted out the door and down the stairs, as the fading sunlight fell on the last words - "goodbye, Ivy."

No way. She got to her broom and ran alongside it, trying to kickstart it. The thaumic engine caught, and she jumped on, hands rigid on the handle. No way! The engine roared as she channeled magic into it and she barreled into the street, forcing a car to swerve and stomp on the brakes and horn as she skidded through the air out onto the road. No WAY! She couldn't let it end like this!

She wove in and out of traffic, pushing the broom's engine to its limits. Her eyes streamed until she risked a hand off the controls, plunging into her pocket and stretching the goggles over her head, barely holding onto her hat as she sped down the highway to the Hedge.

Sirens sounded behind her. The cops were the last thing she needed right now. She checked her mirrors, licked her lips, and kicked the broom nearly vertical. The engine roared, and she gave the red-and-blue lights a cheeky salute as she boosted upwards, barely skipping off the concrete divide and onto the freeway.

Going the wrong way, but what can you do?

She landed heavily, boots skidding along the asphalt for a moment, knuckles inches from being sanded away. Gradually, she lifted up from the ground and made her way across the freeway, only to be cut off by a speeding Ferrari. She didn't have time to go around, so she went over, close enough to see the driver's irate face as she planted a boot right on the hood to help her gain altitude. She landed on the correct side of the freeway this time, her leg feeling like it had tried to kick a brick wall that hated her.

The sun broke through the glass and steel of the downtown skyscrapers. It was almost completely down, painting the sky in brilliant colors. She gritted her teeth and gunned the engine even harder, stretching her magic for every ounce of speed available to her, throwing herself flat against the broom for less resistance. She sped past trucks, skimmed over cars already going 30 over the limit, wove between deadlocked traffic. Anything to get there before Kina left. She couldn't let her go without saying her piece.

The last few months flashed through her mind like the faces in the cars she passed. Meeting Kina for the first time. Introducing her to her motorbroom friends. Kina's constant insecurity. Her feeling that she didn't belong in the human world. The late night talks, gazing up at the stars. The broom rides, with Kina holding on tightly as Ivy whooped, the wind in their hair. Kina's growing fears and anxieties. Hands held tight, warm and soft.

The argument.

Ivy had stormed out, kicked her broom on and flown away. She hadn't checked in on Kina for a week. She'd meant to, but the things she'd said... she hadn't known how to take them back. Her friends had told her Kina was getting worse, but this...

It's her choice, thought Ivy, the sun reflecting off her goggles onto the metal freeway fence flickering beside her, but I'll be damned if I let her go without at least trying to talk to her. The Hedge came into view, and Ivy gunned it for the exit.

---

Kina hopped off Birch's bike, and untied her small suitcase from the back. Birch popped her bubblegum. "You sure about this? It's not too late to turn around."

Kina felt so small beneath her gaze, the witch's black hat and fishnet shirt over a ratty metal band shirt and black jeans contrasting sharply with Kina's simple earth-toned outfit. She looked elsewhere, at the great wooden edifice of the Hedge, the sunlight almost right for the portal to open. "I'm sure," she said, in a small voice. "Nobody here cares about me anyway."

Birch's face twisted into an unreadable expression. "I wouldn't have given you a ride here if I didn't care about you, girl."

"That's not..."

Birch sighed. "Guess I can't talk you out of it." She checked her phone, tapped out a message on it, and stuck it back in her pocket. "Come back and visit sometime, huh?"

Kina mumbled something noncommittal, grabbed her suitcase, and walked towards the portal. It wouldn't be too long before it activated, and she'd be free of this world.

Birch checked her phone again. "Goddamn it, Ivy, where are you?"

---

Ivy could see the living wood portal off the road to the right, and the sun was almost set - she could see the shimmers of magic, the world on the other side struggling to make itself present.

She saw Kina.

She skidded off the ramp and rammed the gates, breaking through the magical wood with a flaming boot. She sped past another broom-user - Birch? No time to worry about that, although she whooped and waved her hat at Ivy as she passed.

Kina stood in front of the portal, on a simple dirt pathway through the grass. The sun sank, and suddenly the portal sparked into place, the eternal twilight of the fey lands matching the twilight on Ivy's side. Kina hesitated, then began to step through.

"No!!" Ivy reached for more reserves, and suddenly found them empty. Her broom hit the ground at speed, flinging Ivy off it. Sky and ground intermixed, her goggles shattered on an unseen rock, and she felt a snap in her left arm. She found herself on the ground, the air knocked out of her lungs, as Kina reached towards the barrier between worlds.

And a familiar-looking envelope flew into her hands. One labeled "To Kina."

Ivy frantically patted the pocket of her jacket, finding it empty as Kina opened the envelope and began to read, one foot through the portal. Ivy tried to push herself up, but just collapsed again. She gritted her teeth and heaved, finally making it to her feet. Just in time for Kina to finish reading, to turn and stare at Ivy.

A million things flashed through Ivy's head to say, as Kina held her gaze, but the only thing she was able to blurt out was, "Don't go!"

Kina startled at that, holding the letter close to her chest.

"Don't go. Please." Ivy held her broken arm and pretended the tears on her face were from pain. "I'd miss you."

Kina broke eye contact. "I'm... a mess. I don't belong here. I can't do anything right." She began to cry in earnest. "I don't... I don't deserve to be here!"

"Screw that!" Shouted Ivy, limping closer. "Fuck deserving anything! I never should have said any of that! I'll miss you! I want you to stay! I know that's selfish, and I don't care!!" she took a breath, only a few feet away now. "Please. Stay." She couldn't look at Kina's eyes, focusing on her chin instead, watching tears fall from it.

They stood there for a moment. The portal behind Kina shimmered. She turned to go, and Ivy suppressed a sob, squeezing her eyes shut.

And then a moment later found herself tackled by the small changeling. The portal behind her closed, and Ivy encircled Kina with her good arm, both of them holding each other close.

---

Birch dropped the magic that had guided Ivy's letter to Kina's hand, and went to go pick up Ivy's broom. She flicked a tear from the corner of her eye. Those gay idiots.

[acrossthewavesoftime]

What was Simcoe's personality like?

What an interesting question, anonymous gentleperson!

Before I'll reply to your question, I would like to add that while having read as much as I could about him (and whenever possible, by him), my interpretation of his character through the material I encountered is purely subjective, though based on contemporary documents and later research and I warmly invite you to develop and share, if you feel comfortable doing so, your own.

To me, one of John Graves Simcoe's defining personality traits was his sense of unwavering loyalty towards those nearest and dearest to him. Since a great deal has been said about them, I won't focus on his incredibly loving, close relationship with his wife, and indeed focus on two less obvious people who also had a distinct impact on his life.

His near boundless loyalty shows in a letter dated September 1780 in which Simcoe, fearing for the life of his friend John André in American captivity, expresses to a person (presumably a fellow officer) whose name is only given as "Crosbie" that he is ready and willing to risk his life to rescue his close friend André- for André's sake, but also because he can't bear to know Clinton is worried about André:

I have often risked my life, but never as with so much pleasure, in a case where attachment to my General, private Friendship & public duty, all call upon in the most feelg. manner-

Another telling example can be found in his self-published Journal, in which he stresses

His intimate connection with that most upright and zealous officer the late Admiral Graves, who commanded at Boston in the year 1775, and some services which he was pleased to entrust him with, brought him acquainted with many of the American loyalists: from them he soon learned the practicability of raising troops in the country whenever it should be opened to the King's forces; and the propriety of such a measure appeared to be self-evident.

Samuel Graves had died in the spring of 1787, evidently before Simcoe had his Journal published later the same year, as the prefix "late" indicates. If you've been on my blog before, you're likely to have encountered Samuel Graves, commander of the North American Station between June 1774 and January 1776. Admiral Graves, held partially responsible for the events leading up to the eventual loss of the Thirteen Colonies, was retired in some measure of disgrace in all but name, and also due to being regarded as a rather difficult, irate and rude person (and, a little too Irish perhaps as well) not exactly a society favourite.

This makes Simcoe's declaration even more curious to me: he claims that the skills and contacts he would later put to good use as commander of the Queen's Rangers and shaping them into the efficient unit they were, he initially obtained running some unspecified errands for his godfather (young Simcoe, a Navy spy in the Army- now that'd be an American Revolutionary War-themed TV show I want to see! No more warm eggs!) while they were both stationed in Boston in 1775.

He doesn't mention any more or less well-known fellow army officers as mentors; the man who helped make Lieutenant-Colonel John Graves Simcoe and the Queen's Rangers, one of the most efficient British units of the war, was the late Admiral Graves. There was no social gain for Simcoe to expect by mentioning his godfather (half-present anywhere already he signed his full name), which convinces me he must have done it purely out of a personal motivation to right the wrongs he thought had been done to his godfather by recalling him. The two had enjoyed a close bond since Simcoe's earliest childhood to the point the mere weeks old Simcoe was swiftly dubbed "Infant Graves" by his extremely excited godfather, who continued to help his godson out whenever possible- sometimes providing him with money, a place to live, or his abilities as a wingman. For Simcoe to mention him in his Journal speaks of his love for the man who had stepped up when his father had died that exceeded his (at times rather pronounced) desire for honours, styles and titles.

Another trait worth mentioning is that he was rather fun-loving and energetic; I've previously made posts about his Trafalgar Day and Christmas celebrations. To some extent, I believe his love of entertainment and enjoying himself in the company of friends (he was no stranger to Exeter's pubs as well) was partially rooted in knowing that he was severely asthmatic, which at the time was a far greater health risk than it is today with the available modern treatments; he knew that it was highly probable his condition might one day cause severe or fatal complications (and it did); so he made the most of the life he had.

Simcoe was very conscious of people less fortunate than he as well, and tried to be a person who'd make a change for the better where he was able to, as is evidenced by his attempt at abolishing slavery in Upper Canada (which ended in a limitation of slavery due to the veto of Upper Canadian officials, with the result that the act that was eventually passed did not benefit persons that were enslaved at the time), but also in the things he did a little closer to home: not only did Simcoe-money help improve local roads, Lieutenant-General Simcoe was known for being a good employer, tipped generously and liked to help wherever he could: one time, he helped a local family get free treatment at Exeter hospital for their sick child. Another time, a man visited Wolford begging for money to buy himself a donkey since his only donkey had died recently; Simcoe talked with him, asked how much the donkey had been worth, and, telling the man he needed not walk any further, paid him the thirty shillings for a new donkey no questions asked.

Many of these stories were preserved by John Bailey, who was a servant in the Simcoe-household for most of his life, knew "the General" as a boy and later became a sort-of inofficial companion to his widowed wife, Elizabeth Posthuma Simcoe, whom he idolised, in addition to the work he was actually being paid for. In 1802, Bailey witnessed Simcoe, apparently fallen victim to the stereotype of aging men being greatly interested in watching construction work and commenting on it, chatting up one of the workmen who were doing whatever work he had commissioned at the time (perhaps something to do with Wolford Chapel?). Conscious of the social chasm setting them apart, the workman deferentially took off his hat. Simcoe told him to leave his hat on, but the workman insisted on doing the polite thing, and holding his hat in his hand. Seeing as the man could not be moved to put his hat back on, Simcoe told him that he'd just take his off, then- and so, two men supposedly continued to have a long conversation, bare-headed.

Now, on the less rosy parts of his personality: I would say Simcoe was often blunt and direct in ways that easily irritated others (a dubious quality he may have picked up from his godfather) and frequently blinded by a very extreme notion of personal honour that once caused a fight with his wife as he tried to tell her not to visit a play put on by young officers at Québec because theatrics apparently weren't officer-like (...said the man who was close friends with John André) and almost saw him getting into a duel-by-fistfight with the owner of a neighbouring estate. The duel only never happened because Simcoe, ready to throw fists, wanted the man to challenge him more formally.

For all the genuine health-concerns he had, his wife also made a rather dry remark in her diary once indicating he sometimes tended to hypochondria, presumably to garner attention and sympathy:

He is now recovered, and has a pain in his foot, which perhaps would more effectually relieve his head if it were more violent.

So, there you have it. I hope this is what you've been looking for, and thank you again for the question!

[enigmawrappedinhypocrisy]

*Request* Okay. Thanks! Could the reader be in to wrestling and her and barley are best friends? And something happened and they find out they’re falling for each other? And Ian is always teasing the reader? And a kiss at the end? Sorry if it’s a bit confusing.. again thanks!

 Okay I’m not sure how to do this… and I’m not into wrestling… And i’m really bad at this getting things done thing… sooo… I’m sorry, I know this has been in my asks for 100 years. But excuses… And i’m tired of this being in my drafts sooo… However, Hopefully it's decent enough. 

Fandom: Onward

Pairings: Barley x Reader (mention of grandchildren once but nothing that indicates gender... I think...) 

Warnings: Bad writing, Quick Mention of drunk idiots harassing reader, I don’t know a thing about Wrestling, Fluff, very bouncy thoughts... a tiny little bit of almost angst. 

❀✦ Master List✦❀

You met Barley at a wrestling match when a few drunk idiots decided to hassle you. As they tend to do… 

You ran into the first, seemingly safe person you saw. You looked at him with puppy eyes and were grateful he understood your silent plea. 

Barley smiled warmly and put his arm around you. He pretended to be your boyfriend until the guys lost interest in you and left. He made some jokes to lighten the mood and struck up a casual conversation with you, as if you really did know each other. You found yourself amazed and feeling better, it seemed this elf boy radiated security and gentleness.  

Then, with a simple thank you, you’d parted ways; only to run into each other again at the local diner after the match. It was there you had sat and talked well into the early hours of the morning. 

You learned he was interested in many things you were, and you just felt… content around him. By the time you had to part, numbers were exchanged, and he’d texted you before noon that day. 

You began hanging out shortly after that. You were nearly always at each other’s house, and quickly became close with his family. His mother adored you and his brother felt comfortable enough to joke around with you. 

All in all you and Barley were quite close.

But not as close as your family's seemed to think you were… or maybe hope would be more appropriate…  

*

The weekend had finally arrived and you made your way to Barley’s house, as planned, after work.

There was a big wrestling event in the evening and you and Barley had plans to hang out and watch it together. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for you to spend a lot of time at the Lightfoot house so no one batted an eye when you showed up a little early. 

Ms. Lightfoot welcomed you and let you know that Barley had called saying he'd be a little late, and she was going out with friends. As she was leaving she turned to wink at you telling you, with a knowing look, to have fun. 

You thanked her as you felt your cheeks flush with warmth and made your way to the familiar living room. You didn't mind waiting for Barley, in fact, you'd be willing to wait all night if it meant spending time with him. Not that you would tell him that...

Lost in your thoughts about how dumb and sappy that sounded even in your mind, and the implications therein, you hadn't noticed Barley's brother come in.

You had spent a fair amount of time with both brothers since you’d first met Barley. So by this time Ian was pretty comfortable around you, sometimes even coming to you for help or advice. Especially when it entailed something he might have been too embarrassed about to ask his mother or brother about.  

 Ian had decided to take a break from homework, and get a snack when he found you lost in thought on his couch. When he came back from the kitchen only to find you with the same dazed expression several minutes later he decided to tease you a little. 

"Barley late for date night?" Ian asks, his tone even, leaning against the wall an apple in hand. 

"Yea- wait no! Why would you say that?" You blink taken off guard by the sudden question. 

Ian raises an eyebrow in a ‘really?’ expression. 

“Shut up” you try and fail to keep the blush from your voice. "We're just… eh… hanging out!" You defend a little too enthusiastically. 

“Interesting that’s the part you chose to respond to…” Ian chuckles, before heading back upstairs. If you weren't ready to admit your feelings, who was he to do it for you… besides, this was  far more amusing.

*

It wasn't much longer until Barley arrived home, a little disheveled. The match wasn't due to start for another hour, maybe more depending on how things went, and yet it looked like the elf boy had rushed home. 

Why? 

The only thought that continued to creep into your mind was you… he rushed home to see you. The idea of It warmed your heart, and filled you with a longing. A longing for a potential life where Barley was coming home after work each day to see you. 

He'd find you cooking… reading… working on some project… and kiss you. 

You'd ask him about his day… and he yours. 

You'd share a pleasant dinner and end the night cuddled on the couch… 

You’d be happy… 

Ian's words run on loop in your mind and you don’t notice the way Barley’s face lights up upon seeing you. 

Did Barley think you were dating? That this was a date? 

Did he want it to be? 

Did you? 

You hadn't noticed you were staring until Barley brought attention to it. 

"What?" You jump. 

"I asked why you were looking at me like that?" he gives you his charming little half smile as he repeats, what you assume was, his earlier question. 

"Oh, um… nothing… no reason" you blush and desperately avoid looking at him. 

Barley watches you for a moment, clearly not believing your answer, but gives in with a shrug. 

"I'm just gonna go put my stuff down and get something to drink… you want something?" He asks. 

"Okay, um… no thanks" you try to sound casual all the while you're incredibly aware of your quickening heartbeat. 

Barley nods before leaving you, calling to you from the kitchen. He asks about your day. You give a non answer in response and ask him about his. 

He goes on to tell you about some funny thing his boss said in response to an irate customer, and soon returns to the living room. He hands you your drink before flopping down next to you. 

You scold him as you nearly spill. Not really realizing he brought you something even though you told him you didn’t need him to… not only that, but it was definitely your favorite… why would he… how… 

"Sorry my love" he smirks, clearly not sorry. 

You roll your eyes giving him a little shove in response to the nickname. He often called you sweet things. Things you previously attributed to his personality or teasing but now they had you wondering.

When he called you those things, sweetheart, darling, dear… was he actually hinting at what he really felt? 

You look at him out of the corner of your eye and quickly squeak noticing he was watching you with an indescribable emotion.

"W-what?" You try to act casual. 

"What's wrong with you?" He asks, blunt and to the point. 

"What do you mean?" You try and play it off, as if your mind wasn’t playing that little game with the levers and ball… and see you can’t even remember what it’s called… and it’s your analogy… 

PINBALL! Your brain was playing pinball… the dinging buzzing things the ball hits against being the sudden and many thoughts… which makes you the ball? Or was the ball the thoughts… bouncing around… there goes the analogy again…  

"You're being all quiet and…” he indicates you vaguely,  “did my mom say something to you? She's been teasing me about grandchildren lately, she didn't say something like that too you did she?" 

Your eyes widen and you suspect Barley didn't mean to let that slip out by the blush now coloring his ears. 

"No… but um… what-what do you tell her when she asks about that kind of stuff?" Yeah super subtle… 

Barley scratches the back of his neck, “I tell her we haven't discussed that…" 

Wait…

"Why would we… Um Barley?" You push away your insecurities, fear that you’d read the situation wrong, and decide to just jump in with both feet. 

Or tip over the machine? Does it work now? The analogy? 

He 'hmms'. 

"Do you think we're dating?" You try to phrase it gently but cringe when you hear yourself. You don’t want to come across rude, like you’re making fun of him… but also don’t wanna let on how much you’re starting to suspect you want him to say yes… 

Barley looks away from you, practically purple at this point. 

"Uh… no of course not…" It sounded small, nervous but... hopeful? 

"Do… do you want to?" you manage to force out, slightly proud of your mostly even tone.

Do you?

You’re still not sure at this point yourself, you’d only just realized the way you feel about the elf boy that was your best friend. Did you want to risk that? What happens if this was just a little puppy attraction, lust thing… and whatever relationship you begin quickly sizzles out? 

Barley is looking at his hands as he nervously fiddles with the zipper of his vest. He bites his lip and tries to avoid your gaze. 

Oh… 

You soften, “It’s okay if you do… I mean… wanna… um…” Now you can’t find the words, which becomes more difficult when Barley looks up at you, hope shining in his eyes. 

“What are you saying?” he prompts, heart pounding in his chest. He hopes you can’t hear it. 

You shift, turning towards him slightly. “Well… if you wanted to maybe go on a date or something…” 

“Yes?” 

“I’d probably be okay with that… I mean… if you want to” you add the last part, now desperately hoping this wasn’t some awful joke. 

Barley smiles, reaching forward to brush a piece of hair from your face. “Do you wanna go on a date with me?” He asks softly, apparently having gained some confidence back. 

You nod, leaning into his touch before you realize you’re doing it. 

“Tomorrow night?” he suggests. 

Again, you nod, not trusting your voice. 

Barley smiles, his attention turning back to the tv. The match was starting soon, the announcers already talking about what they expect to happen. He leans back, his arm resting behind you on the top of the couch. Not an uncommon thing for the elf boy. What was uncommon, however, was you relaxing against his side and how right it felt.

Without a word, perhaps because he wasn’t sure he could trust his voice either, Barley brings his arm down around you, holding you against him. 

If you had the courage yourself to look up at him, you would have seen the flushing upon his cheeks. But either way this was comfortable and you weren’t in a hurry to end it any time soon. 

*

A few hours later Barley's mom returns home. Maaaybe a little drunk which results in her cooing loudly when she finds you and Barley asleep and cuddling on the couch. 

This, and her half stumbling up the stairs, manages to rouse you and Barley from your comfortable nap.

Barley yawns, and slowly gets to his feet. 

"Come on, I'll drive you home" he offers another yawn soon follows.

"Don't worry, I can drive myself" you stretch, not really pleased with the idea of making the trip home yourself.

"You're too tired- not safe" Barley half murmurs. 

"You're too tired" you retort. 

"You should stay here… on the couch… or I can take the couch" he stumbles over his words. 

You nod in agreement flopping back on the couch. When Barley doesn't leave you raise a brow in question. 

"I was just thinking…" he shuffles from one foot to the other.

You watch him with patient eyes, now a little more alert. You'd let him say what he needed, when he needed not wanting to rush him. 

"I mean… if I don't drive you home I can't kiss you goodbye…" 

His ears were a dark maroon by now and you can't keep the smile from your eyes. His sweetness, his bashfulness, just how God damn cute he was. And most of all… how much you wanted to kiss his pink tinted face. 

So you did. 

You stood, quicker than he could react, grabbed his face on either side, and brought his lips to yours. After a moment of shock Barley’s arms come around you, keeping you too him. 

You can't say for sure if the head rush you felt was from the kiss or standing too suddenly, but you chose to think it was the kiss as you give him several more little pecks before eventually breaking apart with a yawn. 

"Better?" You ask, your head falling forward to lean against his shoulder. 

Barley nods before pulling back, calling a good night to you, and hurrying to his room. 

You chuckle softly before flopping once again on the couch… there'd be time tomorrow to deal with all this… but for now… sleep was calling and the old couch was far too inviting… 

*And that’s all folks*

[jamestrmtx]

Fairytale Complex - [Undertale | Sans x Reader]

[Gender Neutral, Frisk's Parent Reader | Slow Burn]

Chapter Twenty | Ooo (Part 1 of 2)

[First] | [Previous] | [Next]

Alternate Chapter Title: Before the Clock Strikes Midnight

• • •

Knock-knock.

However common, the sound makes you jolt. You stop everything you're doing to check on your schedule, needing to consult with it first to better establish yourself into reality. It takes a few pages and some seconds of reading for you to determine you don't expect any visitors today.

Knock-knock.

"One moment," you shout; stress spikes as you fail to wrap things up quicker, having to bring the stew into a boil before turning it off.

You're not sure what to anticipate from the one waiting at the door, nor why it's worrying your thoughts as much as it is. A knock was nothing to be afraid of, as wasn't receiving a surprise visit if you were to consider how tidy your home was and how up-to-date you were with your responsibilities. Regardless, the sound of the door opening sends all meditating techniques aside and panic replaces your search for serenity and reasoning. You rush off to the living room and get ready to face whoever's there, though not without letting that alert state show through your posture and the way you hold on tight to the knife you used for cutting the vegetables.

"Who's-"

Warmth leaves your body the second you see who the person is; the knife almost falls, yet the visitor rescues it by its handle and gives it back to you afterwards. Your offensive stance vanishes and you find yourself incapable of storing the weapon away without making yourself seem like an anxious mess. The man stares at you throughout -- making matters worse, no doubt.

"G- God, I'm sorry!" you blurt out, frowning. "I thought you were-"

"I've had worse welcomes into strangers' homes," Bubbles says, remaining unfazed. "Though that still doesn't excuse the… oddity of your actions." He greets Frisk -- now closing the door of the living room -- with a nod and a smile. He then takes a small step forward and closer to you, cornering you in place without doing much about it. "Is there something wrong, (L/N)? You appear different from the first time we met."

You gulp tension away and attempt a smile.

"It's been a rough couple of months, so I've grown... worried about bad things happening," you reply, taking a breath. "N- Not even those two months without Frisk were as scary as these new changes. Back then, I had little to lose -- I'd already lost my own child; there wasn't much left around for me to keep living for. No reason for it. Frisk wasn't with me anymore, and… And I destroyed all my other relationships, so -- in the end -- I was alone and I didn't have anywhere to go." You huff and follow it up with a shudder. "But now… Now I've got plenty to lose and barely any ideas on how to prevent that from happening. I don't want to lose the progress I've made until now, and I… I don't want to keep screwing up so much, either."

"You should seek some sort of counseling, if so."

He takes a step back and sits on the couch when Frisk offers him to.

You copy the man's actions, choosing the recliner opposite to his seat to maintain eye contact with him.

"There's a fine line between fear and paranoia, and I believe you're crossing the latter now," he adds, frowning. "Or do you consider it normal to come running all the way from the kitchen to the living room, pointing a knife at me -- and looking as on-edge as you were just a moment ago?" He stops for a minute. "I understand you're being cautious, and that you're worried over Frisk opening the door to anyone who knocks on it, but your reaction just now was much different from the first day we met -- in a few ways positive, but in most ways not."

"I… I'll try to find some help, then," you reply, sighing. You then bring a hand to your forehead and rub at your temples, brow creasing in the process. "But... May I ask what's the reason for your visit? I thought our next meeting would be by the end of the year," you stop yourself at the feeling of being impolite, "...Not that I mind you visiting! I just… I thought I had more time to research more about monsters."

He keeps quiet for what feels like an eternity, heightened by the loud ticktock of the clock hanging nearby. "I can answer, but only if you promise me you'll be true to your word, and if you provide thorough evidence the next occasion we meet -- both with your counseling and research."

"I already have some on my research," you say, smiling. "Could I show it to you?"

"You should," he replies, impassive.

"E- Excuse me for a moment, then."

He nods.

Nodding back, you walk off to your room and clear your throat on the way there in an attempt at gaining some strength. You can feel your resolve debilitating with each second, likely product of the surprise visit, but undoubtedly influenced by factors beyond it. The bunny notepad gifted to you was still a work in progress. You'd barely just managed to cover half of the ten main people Frisk was associated with. Toriel, Papyrus, and Sans were the three you'd learned most about, while Undyne and Alphys had been left behind with the whirlwind you'd been pulled into since the monsters arrived at the Surface. It's difficult to admit you'd rather go back to how things were before Frisk ended up at the Underground, yet -- at the same time -- there's plenty of things that outweigh that desire, varying from the help and friendship both Toriel and Papyrus offered you, to the 'friends with benefits' sort of relationship you shared with the latter's older brother.

You brush those thoughts aside when picking up the notepad; priorities are rearranged as you step out and make way back to the living room.

No matter what, you weren't about to lose your child simply for allowing them to keep spending time with a group known to have hurt them first. Something had to be done, even if it involved you becoming an antagonist. As lovely as the monsters were and are, there are some sacrifices you're not quite ready to make yet -- however selfish some of these make you feel.

The routine of breathing in and out is kept in mind as you arrive at the living room, where -- true to his word -- Bubbles is still at. He's still sitting on the couch, but at a different spot as he leaves space for Frisk, who's showing him the hundred-piece puzzle they're more than halfway through finishing. A smile can be seen on his face, and he doesn't have his sunglasses on anymore, making him appear much more approachable now. That -- however nice of a sight to see -- changes when he looks up from the puzzle and stares down at you, smile changing to a firm line and eyes narrowing when meeting yours.

"Is that all your evidence?" he asks, gaze going further down to stare at the bunny notepad in hand. "Forgive me for saying this, but I'm afraid that doesn't seem like much, at first glance."

It isn't.

Bile forms in your throat and you're urged to squeeze the notepad tight, too anxious to let your muscles relax and too nauseous not to grow irate. "It's possible it might not be much," you confess, frowning. You then bite on your lower lip to prevent your voice from lowering. "I've had a tough time deciding, and…" You sigh and loosen your shoulders afterwards. "And then other things got in the way, but... Judging by the situation, I should wait until you ask me what these things are, shouldn't I?

"That would be preferable," he replies, gaze and mouth softening. "Care to place that notebook on the table? I'll only need a few minutes to look through it."

"Of course."

With that final agreement, you approach the coffee table and set the evidence down. An instinct to flee from the scene while he reads overcomes your senses, though you remind yourself of the severity of the situation and what lies ahead. You sit back down on the recliner and tap your foot as you wait for him, an action you can't bring control over with how shaky your entire body is. Even so much as keeping yourself in one place feels like a challenge you're not exactly ready to overcome presently. Regardless, you comply and distract yourself by looking at Frisk, who's still finishing with their puzzle.

"It's been months, and yet this is the only information you've found?" Bubbles asks, fixing the sunglasses now resting on his head as he brings the notebook closer to him. "There's hardly ten people on this list, (L/N)," he adds, face scrunching as he reads through the list again. "Just what have you been up to this entire time?"

A combined sense of guilt and embarrassment take over, causing an overall inability to stare at him, already hard to do with the intensity of his gaze. "I've been touring the Underground," you begin, bracing yourself with a breath. "I was also hospitalized for a while, and then there was some... personal trouble with my ex-husband the day after I, well…" Your face burns at the thought. "Spent the night at a hotel with, uh… monster number three."

Bubbles eyes the list again and stops immediately.

"Serif?" he asks, showing you the notebook and pointing at his name. He then looks back to it and skips through a few pages. A subtle curve shows up on his mouth, almost making him appear as if he's smiling. "I assumed as much, judging by how much there's written about him." Sighing, he closes the notepad and stares at you again. "But spent the night in a literal sense, or-"

"Literal!" you exclaim, too stressed to bear listening until the end. "We're not dating, but…"

"You wish you were?"

"Uh… Kinda?"

His neutral expression changes to a subtle frown. "That doesn't answer my question, unfortunately."

"I'm not sure," you elaborate, huffing as you furrow your brow and grimace, headache returning. "We've… We've called each other nicknames a couple of times, and we almost kissed once, but, well…"

"Wasn't he the one troubling you the most?" he asks, frown growing more prominent. "While I do not wish to question you over who you befriend, this is the same man you informed me about a few months ago, who -- quote: 'threatened Frisk with death and did very little to help them out in the Underground'." He stops to breathe in deep, huffing just as loud after. "Can you sincerely admit to me you've developed a crush on him ever since then -- cross your heart?" he adds, forehead wrinkling and hands folding over the notebook. "Has he shown any repentance over his actions for you to be forgiving him so easily?"

"That's exactly why ren's not dating him officially yet!" Frisk intervenes, standing up from their seat like a lawyer would do when defending their client. "They-"

"Please, do not interrupt us. It's for your own good, Frisk (L/N)."

"But it's true," they state, persisting. "I-"

"It's been roughly three months since I last gave this home a visit, and yet I've seen little progress made with the only task I assigned to you, (L/N)," he says, standing up straight. "You were meant to determine and establish which monsters are safe to have around Frisk, and which ones aren't, but -- so far -- the only information you've given me's going stagnant with how long it's taken you to make a decision."

You're the one to stand up next, against letting yourself feel weaker.

"That's what I've been doing, even if it looks like I haven't made any progress," you reply, fists clenching. Your heart races faster with each moment that passes, making you seek some calm through the reminder of how fragile your current physical state is. "I- I've toured half of the Underground with that same man, I've settled an agreement with Toriel as to how much time she's allowed to spend with Frisk, and I'm... I'm trying to understand number three's intentions by-"

"By dating him."

"Please, let me finish."

Bubbles chuckles and crosses his arms, staring down at you afterwards. "Alright." He sighs and loosens up as he massages the bridge of his nose. "Then, would you be kind enough to explain to me what you've learned about him so far? And just why haven't you made a decision yet, if you happen to know him that well?"

"He's, uh…" You hesitate with a frown. "He's difficult to understand, but he... He means well, and I trust his intentions better these days."

"This is the same man you were accusing of being a hypocrite the first day you met him."

"And now it's been months, sir." You harrumph when noticing the sudden rise in your tone. "I've learned enough now to know he doesn't mean any harm."

"And to what extent would you say your trust towards him goes?" he asks, uncrossing his arms and softening his gaze. "Is it enough for you to accept his and Toriel's offer of having you and your child in that new school? Or enough to still hesitate when asked about the nature of your relationship with him?" His stern mouth turns to a frown, revealing whole-hearted concern. "How can you trust him enough for one thing, but not the other -- if one is much more weighted than the other?"

You take a second to think and calm down some more. His questions make rounds about your mind as you weigh the pros and cons of not only your relationship with monster number three, but with everyone else, as well. Finding an answer proves difficult the more you stay quiet to reflect on the heaviness of both sides. Either way, consequences would soon follow, and you were required to act fast -- judging by Bubble's words. If you wanted to let Frisk keep their relationship with the monsters and for you to maintain your own, you needed to speed things up more than you would want to, given how much willpower you have left.

"Because even then, they're still different things," you speak up, breaking the silence. "Accepting that job offer and letting Frisk go to Toriel's school isn't the same as opening my heart out to someone new, when I screwed up big time seven years ago with a different guy."

Bubbles takes the notepad and gives it back to you. Then, he fixes his attire and looks at the time. His expression is hard to read with how serious his eyes and mouth have become, though his calm tone reveals he's neutral over the situation when he replies with, "Who you date is none of my concern, so long as it is done with another consenting adult, and so long as it doesn't bring any harm upon Frisk. The same goes for your friendships, but time's running out, and I need you to start making decisions soon." He stops to slip his sunglasses back on, masking his gaze, smoothened by sympathy for what seems like a split second -- if not less. "It's either that, or I'll have to make them for you." He sighs. "And as I'm sure you know, these aren't the best for you or your child. It's what the department requires for the safety of Frisk, above anything else."

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• • •

Stay tuned for a Pride Month related notice after the next update is out.

As always, take care, stay safe...

...And Happy Pride! 🌈😄

• • •

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[diavolodigitale]

L’appel Du Vide: 00 Despicable Him

It took me a whole goddamn year to finally win the fight I fought against myself and start posting this story. I have 7 complete chapters written already but now cannot seem to find the strength to continue, so I was hoping releasing it into the world would give me a nice boost. Anyway, my friends enjoyed the story so if in reality it turns out to be bad, it’s obviously their fault, not mine ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Rhys is the CEO of Atlas and Jack's AI is back, surprise, surprise! Now Rhys is dismayed, Jack doesn't care much, and the events of Borderlands 3 are just beginning to unravel. Is there any way to fix the plot of this game? Would it be any better if Rhys had to cooperate with Jack this whole time? Well, this is your chance to find out!

Spoiler: yes, dammit, it would. Everything's better with a bit of Handsome Jack in it.

Genres: Fix-It, Developing Relationship, Alternate Canon, POV Third Person, Humor, Drama, Plot-driven (kind of? well, it has plot)

Pairing: Handsome Jack’s AI/Rhys (this is only the 1st chapter so don’t expect much yet)

Characters: Handsome Jack’s AI, Rhys

Rating: M for Mature but not in this chapter lol

Size: around 2500 words (chapter 1/11)

Rhys’s office was great. He liked to sit in his big executive’s chair and dreamily look outside instead of doing the paper work. The view was also great. Well, kind of.

What did not seem so great, however, was the war he had been recently dragged into by the Maliwan corporation. He didn’t like being involuntarily involved into global affairs, especially those that had something to do with fusions or takeovers. The situation his company was in was bothering him at the moment, so he took a deep thoughtful breath and continued staring into the window.

“Hey, kiddo,” said the voice of somebody who definitely could not be in Rhys’s office neither at this given moment nor at any other time. Rhys was almost sure in his sanity so he proceeded to ignore the not-uttered words, although he, for some unknown reason, became visibly shaken.

“He-e-ey,” said the voice with those familiar little notes of annoyance that would let the hearer know that the person speaking clearly didn’t like being ignored.

A half-transparent blue hand waved in front of Rhys’s face, and he totally lost it.

Still somehow managing to remain seated in his chair, Rhys jerked back and rolled right through the blue figure formerly standing behind him.

“Wha…” muttered Rhys, barely able to speak at all, “Jack? What are you… I mean, how… I mean, is that really you?”

“Calm down, Rhysie,” said Jack with the same smug expression on his face – perhaps, the only thing that was unchangeable apart from his self-confidence, principles, self-esteem, disrespect for the others, sly nature, and, well, many, many other things really. “I get it, you’re happy to see me, but gosh, have some self-respect!”

Rhys was still confused, so after a few seconds of silence Jack felt the need to add, “Of course, it’s me”.

“But I thought you’re…”

“Dead? Gone? Dead and gone?” Jack clicked his tongue three times. “I thought, you knew me better, Rhysie. I thought, you’d welcome me with your arms wide open. Are you not happy to see me?”

“I am,” Rhys started nodding zealously and clenched his fists tight, hoping that Jack wouldn’t notice he was shaken. “But I don’t understand. What happened…”

“What happened was a mistake. I was gone for a while, but now I’m here to stay.” Jack leaned towards Rhys’s face and smiled. It was in no way an amiable smile. His glowing eyes reminded those of a vulture watching his prey. He already started to smell fear in the air.

“And where exactly is here?” asked Rhys with the last glimmer of hope fading from his voice. More than anything now he wished for the story not to repeat itself, but it was not like he had a choice or something.

Jack only tapped on Rhys’s temple with his index finger and leaned back. Rhys didn’t feel the touch but the gesture itself made him uncomfortable. He knew what it meant, unfortunately.

Jack jumped onto the table of the CEO of Atlas and crossed his legs and arms, waiting.

Rhys swallowed loudly. This was not great at all. He was sure his head was clear from this phantom and there was nothing to worry about. He was sure he would never again be convinced to go against his nature and pursue the world domination. Or any kind of domination. He was sure, but whenever it came to Jack, he was a defeatist.

“This can’t be true. I don’t believe you came back. I must’ve hit my head or I’m just seeing things…” Rhys’s voice quavered in disbelief when he spoke.

“Now-now, honey, no need to worry so much. You know I don’t like it when you wince, it makes you look older. Seeing me here must make you feel sorry for what you’ve done, but you should know that I don’t hold any grudge. Actually, I’m kida proud of you, you know. It only proves I was right all along,” said Jack roguishly. His manner of speech made his words sound benign, as if he was forgiving sins during the confession. Rhys was still not buying it.

“I did what I had to, what you made me do! If anything, it was YOUR fault, YOU betrayed me, so don’t you try making ME responsible for everything! I don’t know what kind of mind game this is, but I know you can’t be here.”

As Jack opened his mouth to yet again say something pricky, Rhys, still sitting in his chair and tightly gripping its arms, yelled at top of his lungs, “Begone! Begone, foul apparition!”.

The apparition sat on the table, sandbagged and with a dropped jaw, for a few moments and then uttered “Wow. Just wow. I’ve always known you’re weird, but this is just… wow. Are you on drugs or something? I’m not judging, you just seem really… deranged? I wanna say deranged, but I’m not sure it’s the right word.”

Rhys snuffled resentfully and looked at Jack with a brooding expression on his face. “You won’t go?” he asked, not really hoping anymore.

“Nope, kiddo. Everything’s gonna be just like the good old times – me as a hero and you as a… as a… I dunno, a less attractive sidekick?” Rhys quietly sighed, holding his head in his hands. “We’re gonna hang out, kill bandits, save the world, and I will always, always be at your side. I’ll make sure of that.”

“I killed you, Jack. I destroyed you. I ripped you out of my body, tore you apart and threw you away from my memory. Nothing’s gonna be the same anymore, you know that.”

“No, Rhys, I was killed by some OTHER goddamn crappy bags of… ugh, I’m not even gonna bother with that. You and me just had a misunderstanding. Often happens between two forceful promising personalities, like between me and the previous Hyperion CEO. Oh, wait, no,”–Jack scratched his head and furrowed his eyebrows–“no, I killed him, that’s a bad example. Anyway, you know what I mean.”

“I smashed my fucking arm to get rid of you! You,”–Rhys pointed his cybernetic finger at Jack–“are the only one who is insane here if you think that’s nothing. We both know what we did, Jack. Whatever you want, I’m not helping you. The last time I tried, you took control of me and tried to end my life.”

Jack’s expression turned from stolid to menacing as fast as gray clouds cover the sun and it starts raining in summer. He wanted to be good, he really believed that he did.

“Why do you always have to be so stubborn?” he hissed at Rhys. “I wouldn’t be here if you didn’t want me to. No matter how much I don’t want to admit it, I’m dependent on you, you little whiny coward, so do me a favor – be a good boy and listen to what daddy has to say. You kept your eye implant, didn’t you? Don’t even try arguing with me, I know you did. It was your decision to leave it be, so it’s you who brought me here. I’m grateful for that and I promise not to be nasty. No taking over bodies and no homicidal tendencies. Well, at least when it comes to you, pumpkin.”

“…Okay,” fumbled Rhys. Even though he didn’t believe this was really the case, he knew disputing with Jack never solved anything anyway. “Although… I didn’t really use the chip afterwards. I don’t know how you’ve found out I had kept it, but I surely wasn’t that stupid so as to put it back into my head after what you had done. I really want to know how you’ve managed to–”

“We all have our secrets, Rhysie. But enough about me, let’s talk about you.” Jack gave Rhys a wink. “How’ve ya been? Must admit, I fell out of the loop and now need an update,” he said petulantly. Now he was idly looking around as if he had lost all interest in what was happening.

Rhys decided to let go of his worries for now. If he couldn’t make Jack talk, his only option was to gain his trust once again and find out how he survived. Or if he did at all. Just be composed, not the worst scenario you’ve ever been in, he said to himself.

“Um, actually, I’m great. This is my office and… We’re doing fantastically if you disregard the fact that we’re at war with Maliwan and currently I am occupied with this new–”

“Yeah-yeah, okay, what was there about a war? I don’t remember Maliwan scum being at least somehow dangerous. How did you even manage to mess this up?”

Rhys stood up from his huge chair, arms akimbo, eyes disdainfully narrowed, and went on with his story, affronted and even a little peevish.

“As I was saying, I’m working on a new plan right now. At this point I’m pretty fed up with Katagawa, this new CEO of Maliwan,”–definitely peevish right now–“Oh, in fact, I just hate him so much!”–now even irate–“The day he murdered all his siblings, he just mobilized his fleet and went straight to my planet! Who in the right mind does that? Could’ve sent a message at least. Anyway,”–Rhys hid his hands into his pockets and sunk back into his chair, having lost all his righteous anger–“he wants our corporations to merge, to fuse, as he says, to become one.” The irritation on Jack’s face was becoming more distinct with every word Rhys said. “He wants me to sign the deal and share my developments with him, can you believe it? That greedy bastard!”

“Proposals like that don’t just come out of nowhere. Seems like he’s been watching you. This Katagawa guy, what does he offer you in return? Money, contacts, tech?”

“Himself, I guess,” said Rhys without any second thought.

“What?” asked Jack contemptuously. He was already close to seeing red. Rhys forgot how it worked with him.

“He said we would become partners, but I think it’s all lies to make it seem pretty. I suspect he will simply take control of Atlas and our new shiny guns, and all my work will be wasted.”

“I see, no one can trick our Rhysie,” said Jack, grinning. “Thank god, at least some good news.”

“That’s right!” said Rhys, perhaps, more enthusiastically than he should have. “No one,” he added more quietly. Except for you, you snake, muttered the inner voice inside his head.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you something this whole time. Funny how I really haven’t been here for long, but you know. May I?”

Jack’s incisive manner of speech was absent, so Rhys took his guard down for a moment, getting the feeling that this conversation was like one of those they used to have before – unbraced and at times even innocuous.  

“I know what’s on your mind, Jack,” he said, heartfelt and certain.

“You do?” Jack undoubtfully seemed surprised at his interlocutor’s insight.

“Yes. I’ve noticed how you look at me and I know exactly what you want to ask.” Rhys made himself more comfortable in the chair, crossed his legs and sat straight, in a more business-like manner. “This,”–he made a vague hand gesture around the area of his mouth–“is a siege mustache. Shh, let me finish, you can’t say anything I haven’t heard about it before. My troops love it, and as a good commander, I do what I can to boost morale on the battlefield. Of course, I don’t go out there, but they are happy enough when they see my hologram. A-a-and, now you can talk. I guess. If you want to. By the way, I don’t care if you hate it, it’s my face so–”

“You know what? I love it. Love it. Never thought I would say that, but I am saying it right now, so here you are. The second rule of a successful boss – do what the fuck you wanna do with your face. The first one is murder the previous boss, of course.”

“Really?” gingerly asked Rhys, who, in reality, had never heard anything good about his poor moustache.

“Really. But I must upset you, Rhysie. This is not what was bothering me. You see, there’s this other little thing, pretty close in its significance to your moustache.”

“Oh,” uttered Rhys nonchalantly, “what is it?”

“Hyperion. What’s with it? What’s with MY Hyperion, Rhysie?”

At the sound of that very word Rhys hunched in his chair and felt as if he was reducing in size under Jack’s cold gaze.

“After what had happened… the Helios was destroyed and everything collapsed and…”

Rhys sat silent, not able to go on, and this was the last thing he should’ve done. Jack was not in the mood for such a behavior.

“Look me square in my fucking translucent eyes, Rhys, and tell me – what is with my Hyperion?” yelled Jack.

He still sat on the table quite far from Rhys, but it seemed like the room suddenly shrunk and he was right in front of him. Jack was a ghost, a phantom, not able to do anything, not able to inflict any damage or even touch him, but Rhys sensed the danger. No matter in what form, Handsome Jack was still Handsome Jack.

“I don’t know. I guess, somebody took control of it after I left. The weapons are still being manufactured, but I didn’t bother to find out who was the next in line after Helios was… after I destroyed Helios.”

Rhys exhaled loudly and averted his eyes from Jack. Oh, yes, making Jack angry is much easier than making him proud, how could I forget, he thought.

“I see. I didn’t doubt for a second you would do that to infuriate me. Believe it or not, this is the first time I’d rather be disappointed. But you know what? It doesn’t matter now. Now we’re bonding,” Jack sucked the air through his teeth, “now we’re rebuilding what was destroyed like a family we are. Isn’t that great? Look at us, two best buddies exchanging the latest news.”

“And you promised not to be nasty this time...?” Rhys made a feeble attempt to save himself and remind Jack about the terms under which he was allowed to accompany him.

“Yes, Rhysie, and you know damn well I keep my promises.”

And he did. But only when he promised to kill somebody.

[rwbyvein]

Firen Lhain: Chapter 805: King:  Part I / III

Winter finished her report to General Ironwood, whom was visibly afraid. "Can't they see I'm doing this for the good of Atlas?!" he asked.

"I'm afraid not, James." Oscar / Ozpin stated. "The hearts and minds of the people has never been your strong suit."

"But I'm!.." Ironwood shouted.

"That is not what they see." Oscar / Ozpin stated. "All they see is a tin despot, shuttering an entire contient.

"You know that's not why I!.."

"I know, Specialist Schnee knows, along with her sister, and... family..." Oscar / Ozpin stated, "but what about the people. What do they know?"

"It can't exactly tell them what's going on." Ironwood said to him.

"Of course not, but what can you tell them?" Oscar / Ozpin asked.

"That members of the military are not following my orders?" Ironwood asked, and Oscar / Ozpin shook his head. He then looked to Winter.

"Your loyalty is commendable, but right now what he needs is the truth." Oscar / Ozpin said to her. She briefly glanced at him before looking straight while standing at attention. "Tell me, Specialist Schnee, what would the people do if they saw General Ironwood purging his military?" She developed a determined look. "Not what they should believe, but what would they believe?" he asked.

"If they already did not trust him," Winter nervously voiced, "they would look at it like a... tyrant... removing the disloyal."

"Precisely." Oscar / Ozpin stated.

"So, what can I do?" a nearly panicked Ironwood asked.

"Well, right now the conspirators are trying to exaggerate your overreach of power." Oscar / Ozpin stated, "They are using your chain of command to twart you." Ironwood looked at him questioningly. "Then simply don't use it."

"What?" Ironwood asked.

"Simple, James, you speak directly to the people of Remnant. They need to understand why the borders were closed, and even more importantly, that they are open."

"We can't tell them about..." Ironwood tried to say.

"You tell that that the borders were closed because of the Fall of Beacon, and the fear the same would happen to Haven. Lying has never been your strong suit, James, but as both a politician and a conspirator to save Remnant, you might want to learn to do so at least passably well.."

"You want me to lie?" a nervous and offended Ironwood asked.

"I want you to tell the truth, but selectively so." Oscar / Opzin stated, and Ironwood still looked nervous. "You are a General, declassify parts of it, and tell people that. But most importantly, tell them that the borders are open."

"And Lieutenant-General Hartman?" Ironwood asked.

Oscar / Ozpin relaxed and spun his cane, turning towards the window. He then looked back at Ironwood. "Oh?, find her some prestigious promotion that completely neutralizes her." He then looked out the window, and heard Ironwood voice his uncertainty. "Right now she is adjustant to General's seat on the Atlas Council. She needs something she can do on her own."

"She betrays me, and you want to give him more power?" Ironwood asked.

"More and less." Oscar / Ozpin stated, "Right now her power comes from your office. If you gave her her own command?.."

"You want me to reward her for committing treason?" an irate Ironwood asked.

"Anything she does at the moment falls onto your head." Oscar / Ozpin stated, "If she had her own command, she would be accountable for her own actions."

"Even if we did that, we'd have to give her a corps." Ironwood stated. "We couldn't give her Atlas command, and if we gave her one of the further corps, we would risk civil war."

"Civil war is a risk everyone faces when they build an army." Ozpin stated. "There's a reason why I choose to rely on Choice."

"Without Creation, Choice meaningless." Ironwood firmly stated.

"Without Destruction and Creation, Choice is powerless." Oscar / Ozpin replied. "Without Choice, Creation and Destruction are meaningless. Without Knowledge, a proper choice cannot be made." He then sighed, "Unfortunately, for the common man, choice is simply the way they feel. And how do they feel about you, James, who has kept them in the dark?"

"I don't need to be loved..." Ironwood voiced.

"Unfortunately, you do." Oscar / Ozpin stated. "The people of Atlas are ready to revolt against you. I'm sure you must have felt it."

"WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO?!" Ironwood asked.

"Have your great army provide them tangible benefits." Oscar / Ozpin stated.

"But, if we spread out the army, we make them vulnerable to attack?!" Ironwood asked.

"No." Oscar / Ozpin stated, "You trade one form of attack for another. Your solders made a choice, did they not?"

"You're saying I should let them die?!" Ironwood replied, "How could you?.."

"Who would your soldiers rather face, an army pointing their weapons at them, or corrosion from within? Grimm are a far more tangible foe than an eroding faith in the system they are fighting for. It is commendable to think of the lives of your soldiers. It is foolhardy to only think of the lives of your soldiers."

Ironwood was lost in thought for a few moments. "Then what do I do about Lieutenant-General Hartman? If she is the one undermining my orders, wouldn't she see this promotion for what it is?"

"Give her a lavish ceremony." Oscar / Ozpin stated, "I know you consider such things a waste, but you think soldiers will only do as they are told. They have choice, whether you want it or not. The only thing you can do is recognize the choice, and give it a bit of a push when needed."

"Choice is not exactly my strong suit." Ironwood voiced.

"Well, good thing you have me." Oscar / Ozpin said with a bright smile. "And to think that young Oscar will soon rise to become headmaster at Beacon Academy at such a young age? Truly marvelous."

"So?" Ironwood asked him, "You want to go back to the way things were before?"

"If it is at all possible, yes." Oscar / Ozpin stated.

* * *

Jaune and RWBY were in their suite's bathroom when they heard noise from all of their scrolls. "Ruby, if you could?" Weiss asked. Ruby Petal Burst out of the room, leaving a cloud of moisture to fall to the ground, and quickly Petal Burst back. "General Ironwood?!" Ruby asked.

"This is General James Ironwood." he stated, "You are hearing this because the Cross-Continental-Transmit System has been fully restored. I would like to take a moment to thank Glynda Goodwitch and her team for restoring the tower lost at Beacon academy. Without her abilities, this likely would have taken years to restore. I would also like to thank our team of engineers for working around the clock to restore service as quickly as possible. I have a couple of announcements. First, considering the crises in Beacon and Haven academies are finally over, will be fully be reopening the borders. We won't expect this to work overnight, so we will be setting up a council in Argus to expedite entry permits until the borders are fully opened again. Second, Lieutenant-General Janice Hartman has for far too long lived under my shadow, and it was time for her to have her own command. She will be given command of the First Atlasian Roboticized Brigade Group. Atlas has long tried to ensure the safety of our soldiers, and the First Atlasian Roboticized Brigade Group will be an attempt to use Knights as the primary combatants, rather then in a support capacity. She will be given the majority of current Paladins, and will be one of the first to test the next generation of Atlasian Great Knights. I want to thank everyone for their patience during trying times, and a reminder that the Atlasian Military will provide assistance to our friends in the other kingdoms. This has been General James Ironwood, and thank you for your time and patience."

"Well, that's a thing." Yang said as she dried herself off.

"He's obviously responding to the propaganda they were trying to use against him." Blake added as she picked up a towel. She paused to give those behind her a good look at her posterior.

"I never expected the General to be so flexible." Weiss quipped.

* * *

Taiyang jumped up and walked towards the cell. Neo turned to look at him, while he just held out his hand. Neo glared and turned her back to him. "You can get your scroll back when you decide to become less stabby." Taiyang said to her. She turned around to glare at him. "Considering you just tried to kill all of my kids-in-law, and their friends..."

"And their enemy." Raven added.

"And their enemy." Taiyang stated, "They have shown you an extreme amount of patience. Do you know what they could have done to you?"

"Do you really think they have it in them?" Raven asked.

"They could have turned your over to General Ironwood." Taiayng simply stated. "Jaune felt you could be reformed, and at least made to stab less people. Is turning over your scroll without a fight really that much to ask?"

Neo turned to glare at him.

"Or, you could look at it this way?" Raven asked, and Neo gave her a distrutful gaze. "We could always take it from you, and likely destroy what little you have left to do so." Neo gave her a look as if she didn't believe it. "Oh?" Raven asked, "You think I won't?" She gave Neo a deathly glare, and in reply Neo reluctanctly handed over her scroll.

* * *

Oscar's aunt looked at her scroll, for the first time in months gaining hope.

[kessielrg]

[Kingdom Hearts] Shutter to Stutter

Summary: By far, Ven’s got the most boring job at the flower shop; the cashier. Sitting day in and day out for someone to browse along the rows of flowers and gardening tools, then probably walk right out again. Sometimes an interesting thing would happen- but they were few and far between. [flower shop AU focused on UX kids][Part 8 in a series of oneshots][VenxOC][EphemerxOC/F!Player] 

Rating: K+ (mild cursing)

Word Count: 2,062 words

If you liked this story, please reblog!

---

Ven couldn’t remember the last time the flower shop had this much activity to it. At least, in terms of what they did for their billboard ads. Most of the time it was some seasonal flower with witty text advertising the store. Apparently this time, someone had requested something a bit more ‘personal.’ Which meant that they needed models this time around. Sabrina was a shoo-in; her face more than once gracing the billboard on I-02. But this time Luca was also being brought in. The two were to pose as if Luca was giving Sabrina a sunflower, and at the moment, the toddler wanted to do anything but.

It probably would have helped if the space wasn’t so overwhelming. Literally everyone was here. Lauriam had gotten a full camera set up- two large lights, a tripod, and his DSLR he usually used for some horticulture club he was in. Brain was his assistant, of a sorts, helping with adjusting the lights every now and again. Strelitzia -and surprisingly, Elrena- was there to do Sabrina’s make up for her. (Luca had been lucky to have Anora’s darker skintone, leading him to not be as washed out as the paler Sabrina.) Since their child was being exploited, of course both Ephemer and Anora were there to coax him to cooperate. And then there was Skuld- pretty much directing everyone, and likely not helping in Luca’s resistance.

No one had really asked Ven to help with this project, so he sat behind his counter to continue being invisible. Although he did wonder- was he still getting paid for this even though he wasn’t directly helping? This was still his normal shift, after all.

“Luca, look here.” Ephemer coaxed his child from behind Sabrina. “Look over here!”

Luca refused to acknowledge his parent. Instead he made do with picking off the petals on the sunflower with rather impressive pinches. It was less impressive when a strand of the toddler’s hair got into his face, and he used his whole hand to wipe it away. He didn’t even bother to look up when Anora started to shake what Ven could only assume was Luca’s favorite toy. The poor thing rattled not far from Sabrina’s face. No envy was lost as Sabrina’s face grew incredibly dark at the annoyance of having Ephemer verbally calling his son, while Anora rattled a toy on the other side. At this point, even if they could get Luca to remotely look Sabrina’s way, it was going to take another five minutes for her to look close to pleased again.

Brain knew his sister was pushing her limit because he gently pushed his way over to Skuld just to suggest, “Maybe we should try something different?”

Skuld looked at him like he gained another head.

“No.” she said to him with a shake of her head.

“So you want Wabi-Sabi to go Hulk when Ephemer calls for Luca again?”

“She’ll be fine.” Skuld snapped. To further prove a point, Skuld shouted at Sabrina, “Sabrina! You’re doing fine with Ephemer and Anora behind you, aren't you?”

Sabrina gave Skuld a glare so dark, it sent a chill up everyone’s (or, at least the people who happened to be looking at her at the time) spine. Skuld didn’t seem phased.

“Hey Sabrina,” Lauriam then spoke up from behind his camera. “Can you look over here for a moment? Cross your legs a bit too?”

Hate turning into an expression of mild confusion, Sabrina turned her body a bit to better face Lauriam. She crossed her legs and sat a bit straighter. Lauriam checked his camera’s viewfinder for a moment before several shutter snaps could be heard.

“Perfect.” Lauriam nodded. “Thank you.”

“Lauriam, stop taking boudoir photographs of my sister.” Brain teased as he went back over.

Lauriam actually looked rather offended at the idea. “I'm pretty sure these photos are taking themselves, Brain.” he informed his coworker. “My finger's not even on the trigger.”

“You have a remote.” Brain nonchalantly pointed out.

“Do I?” Lauriam looked down at his hand. Sure enough, there was a remote there. He looked up at Sabrina who was trying to scoot Luca back so they could maintain the agreed distance. Lauriam didn’t look away as he took another photograph, using the remote to trigger the shutter. He once more looked down at his hand in wonder before saying, “So I do.”

The duo shared a hearty laugh. The sound irking Sabrina’s nerves again as she also gave them a death glare. She was perfectly ignored for the time being. Every now and again, Lauriam still pressed the shutter button on the remote, even if nothing of substantial use was going on. He was going to end up with a lot of junk photos later, but he had always preferred to overshoot for that reason. If none of them had the particular vision Skuld was looking for, then surely there would be something that could suffice. There had to be.

Meanwhile, sitting by the main counter where Ventus was trying not to be seen, was Strelitzia and Elrena. Strelitzia was humming a little tune to herself as she watched over the main chaos.

“I wonder why Luca isn’t paying that much attention to Ephemer or Anora.” she casually wondered, placing a hand against her cheek. “He’s usually so attentive when they’re around.”

“Humph.” Elrena grumbled. “You know what they say, just like with dogs and cats; babies can sense evil.”

“Explains why he won't go near you.” Ventus hissed under his breath.

Both girls immediately looked at Ven- Strelitzia looked partially amused, while Elrena’s face could almost rival how irate Sabrina was. Elrena immediately slammed her hand down on the counter.

“Listen here, Roxas,” Elrena said, emphasizing the wrong name because she knew he didn’t like it, “I don’t know what’s gotten into you recently, but I’m not liking this bold streak you think you have going on. It’s not impressing anyone.”

“You wanna bet?”

Ventus, Elrena, and Strelitzia all turned their attention to Sabrina. She was sitting up straight and giving Elrena a particularly hard glare. Every other sound in the flower shop came to a grinding stop. (Spare for a few camera clicks, but at this point it was out of habit.) Seeing Sabrina defend Ventus made Elrena laugh.

“And what are you going to do?” Elrena challenged.

“Elrena.” Lauriam warned. She just as easily ignored him.

“‘Oh, look at me, Miss Independent.’” Elrena taunted. “‘I don’t care about anyone until I suddenly do. Oh, woe is me, being a cold hearted bi- I mean, witch, there’s a child present, I suppose- is just exhausting. It’s everyone else’s fault but mine. Oh woe!’”

Sabrina got up from her spot so quick, Brain nearly tripped over Lauriam’s tripod just to make sure his sister didn’t go straight for Elrena’s face. But she didn’t have thoughts of smashing the electric blonde’s face in just yet. Strelitzia had moved just as fast to take hold of Elrena’s elbow. Her grip was tight- a nonverbal warning that her friend needed to dial it back soon. But the shots had been fired, and neither one of them were going to let it go unattended.

“Brain, let go of my arm.” Sabrina hissed to her brother, not letting her gaze waver from Elrena. “You guys can keep going with the photoshoot, but there’s something I need to tell her a bit more privately.”

“You’re not leaving the shop to do it.” Brain told her.

“Of course not.” she spat- perfectly paired with a roll of her eyes.

“Luca will probably sit still for the camera better with her gone too.” Skuld spoke up, as if she wanted to remind everyone on why they were here today. “Lauriam, can you make it happen?”

“Of course.” he agreed. He took a look at his sister, giving her a stern glare meant to communicate that she needed to leave with Elrena soon. Strelitzia’s face paled a bit, but she gave a nod to show she understood.

With that, Brain let go of Sabrina’s arm. She very carefully walked around the photography junk to stand right in front of Elrena. Ventus could feel the air on the back of his neck stand up. There was a fury in Sabrina’s eye that he couldn’t tell if he admired or feared. He would have left to further give the girls time alone, but something kept him rooted in his spot. Everyone else returned to trying to take a good picture of Luca holding up a flower.

“You know, Elrena,” Sabrina started to say, “We’re a lot alike- you and I.”

Hearing this, Elrena stood a bit straighter. Ven tried to hold back the urge to shout that they weren’t. Sabrina gave them enough time to consider the idea before she continued.

“We’re both rather harsh to people we don’t like. Quite frankly, I don’t think we have ever liked each other. Sometimes, it’s very gratifying in just watching the world burn. You know what I mean?”

“Pssht. Yeah.” Elrena snorted. “Some people just deserve it.”

“And that’s where we differ.” Sabrina mused, taking another step toward Elrena. “You keep hiding. You keep hiding every little thing until you’re desperate. It’s not even a matter of holding your cards close- you literally can not let anyone in. People always ask who hurt me, but do they ask the same about you? I know where I fucked up in life, but do you? At least I’m able to admit that I like the person standing two feet away from me. By way, Ven? Last week? That was my first kiss. Great job.”

Ven immediately looked down, his face flushing a deep red. The black haired, brown eyed bitch smirked at the reaction. It became malicious when she looked back at Elrena.

“Have you kissed the person standing two feet next to you yet, sweetie?” She turned to look Strelitzia dead in the eye before asking, “Has she?”

For a moment, Strelitzia didn’t know how to respond. “Elrena doesn’t…” she tried to say, but she wandered in looking at Elrena’s face. The electric blonde’s face was a shade of red that it rivaled the ripest of apples.

“You- you just can’t say that!” Elrena spat. “You don’t know-”

“I may hate people, but I know them. But if I’m wrong, then kiss her.”

Elrena looked like she wanted to throw up.

“S-Strelitzia,” she then stammered. “We need to go now. You’re my ride home.”

“Yeah…” Strelitzia slowly nodded. “Let’s go.”

Strelitzia started toward the front door without a second thought. She paused at Lauriam to tell him something, (something he did not look pleased about at all) before leaving the building altogether. Elrena remained in a deadlock with Sabrina.

“You’re a bitch.” she told the dark haired girl.

“Have to be,” the reply came, almost as pure and simple as day. “How else will the person I like know I actually do like them?”

Elrena pursed her lips together. She tried to storm out, but the attempt still seemed rather half hearted at best. Sabrina casually watched her leave as she leaned against the counter. She refused to look at Lauriam. She knew he was giving her a heated glare.

Ven leaned forward on the counter just to whisper at her, “You’re insane.”

Sabrina moved enough to give him an over the shoulder stare.

“And yet, you’re the one that kissed me.” she mused, rather triumphantly. “Guess that makes you just as bad.”

“It was one kiss.” Ven tried to say in his defense. “Didn’t have to mean anything.”

“No, no it didn’t.” Sabrina quietly mumbled. She got off the counter and took her spot back in front of the camera equipment. Her expression was hard as she told her brother that things were fine. She even told Lauriam that she didn’t mean to put Strelitzia on the spot. But then she went back to modeling like nothing had ever happened. Right down to being slightly annoyed at the parents on either side of her trying to get their kid’s attention.

Ventus hummed as he rested an elbow on the counter, then cupped his face into his hand. Only one thought entered his head as he watched the photoshoot, and it was one that sent butterflies to his stomach.

She is amazing.

[lady-star-strings]

DNF/Georgebur PotO & LND AU

Okay, to begin with, thank you so so much for giving me the chance to blab about this @dtvibez because I’ve always wanted to work with this AU, but I’ve just never had the characters to do it with and my musical nerd heart is thriving right now. Alright, anywhodilydo, geek-out over, let’s get into it - just a warning kiddos, this is gonna be a long one so strap in and hold on...

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Roles

To start off, let’s address the roles here for how I believe these plots would fit best with the characters involved - it’s purely up to individual interpretation, but these are my thoughts as an in-depth lover of these musicals.

Obviously, our dear George is the leading lady Christine Daae in this story, that was pretty much a given - let’s just be honest here guys, he’s the simp-bait through and through and if that wasn’t Christine, I don’t know what was. Meg - Christine’s friend - and her mother Madame Giry I’m going to combine and make Fundy for reasons I shall disclose later in this post, and Sapnap will have a role to discuss later down the line too, just lemme get there. Now as for the love interests, I can easily say that Eric/The Phantom is Dream and Raoul is Wilbur in this situation. Some of you might be questioning why it wouldn’t be switched because Raoul was her childhood friend and Eric was a gifted musician, but I have answers for you ahead on that, don’t you worry~ ;)

Phantom of the Opera Arc

After studying under Dream - or the Nightmare of the Opera as people prefer to call him - for years to be the star singer he was always destined to be, George is finally granted the chance to do so when some strings are pulled behind the scenes to give him a leading role in an opera. There isn’t anything George wouldn’t do for his Angel of Music after giving him such a chance at success, and Dream is practically preening with pride over how astounding his Georgie has turned out to be. Before Dream can whisk George away in triumph, however, his childhood friend Wilbur shows up out of the blue to shower him in praise and remind him of the puppy love they shared as children before George moved to the opera house. George is smitten with nostalgia, to say the least - it’s nice to put a face to the affection for once.

Needless to say, Dream is hardly pleased with this turn of events and actively tries to keep George not only away from Wilbur, but also to himself because George is quite literally all he has in the world - not even his music can compare to how much George means to him. Of course, the way he goes about this is hardly morally right and only serves to drive George further and further away from him and into Wilbur’s arms as a safe haven from all of the horrors. In the end, though, even after so much heartbreak and all the terrible things Dream’s done to keep him hostage as his muse and love, George finds it in his heart to forgive him for being how the world made him to be and genuinely offers to give up his freedom if it means he won’t be alone in that darkness anymore and Wilbur won’t die.

As expected, Dream realizes he really can’t do that George when it comes down to it - he simply loves him too much to force him to stay if it means he’d wind up hating him for it in the end. He’d rather let him be free and live the life he’s been dreaming of with Wilbur than have him stay and live the rest of his life resenting him. Even so, George is surprisingly hesitant to leave and can only offer to return the wedding ring Dream gifted him as a final goodbye and a silent show of his remaining love for him before he let’s him go in return and goes off with Wilbur. Following that night, Dream disappears from the opera house altogether, never to be heard from again...

Love Never Dies Arc - *SPOILERS*

...Or so the story goes in Paris 10 years ago. Little did anyone know, Fundy actually helped Dream steal away from the opera house when the mobs came searching for him and was unyieldingly by his side as they made their way to America for a fresh start. Once there, Dream - with a little seedy behind-the-scenes help from Fundy - founded a successful side show on Coney Island where he and others like him such as Sapnap and Punz - Miss Fleck and Dr. Gangle - are able to live freely and are treated with respect for their unique traits. Fundy has actually taken to training under Dream to be a successful singer in his own right with a well-known show in the attraction, his only goal to gain Dream’s favor and hopefully prove he’s able to replace George in his life. Dream unsurprisingly has no interest in anything of the sort and still actively mourns the loss of his muse - not even his music brings him joy anymore because it only reminds him of what could’ve been, and Fundy will never be his Georgie despite how much he insists otherwise.

But Dream is a clever thing, and he winds up securing a contract for George - who is now married to Wilbur and is raising a 10-year-old son with him - to come perform at the side show for one last performance. George takes the contract with little to no thought as to the odd pseudonym on the paperwork because Wilbur has lost himself to gambling and alcohol over the years, and they’re desperate for money to survive. At first, George is irate and somewhat heartbroken to learn that Dream’s been alive after all these years, especially after how their lives have turned out following the one night of passion they shared before he disappeared. He admits he still loved Dream when he left and would’ve gone with him, but because he thought they couldn’t be happy and left without him, that ship has long since sailed. They both wish things could have been different, but also accept that what happened happened and all they can do now is move forward with the choices they’ve made.

Much to everyone’s immense shock, though, George’s son is actually Dream’s and not Wilbur’s - a fact which Dream deduces on his own after connecting the dots between his age and musical prowess. Unfortunately, the child is terrified of Dream’s true face just as George once was and after getting the truth confirmed about the child’s real parentage, he begs for him to never know. George ultimately blames himself for what’s happened, and although he can’t take back not telling Dream of their child and the fear said child feels toward him, he swears to perform for him one last time to make up for it before they return to Paris to avoid hurting him further. Meanwhile, Dream vows everything he’s worth in the world to be the child’s once he’s gone even if he can’t be his father, and Fundy isn’t happy to hear that in the slightest because he will have nothing after all the sacrifice he’s made for Dream. All of the sleazy deals and late nights in his dressing room plying people for Dream’s success, and he will get nothing - his mind is just too fragile to face that reality at this point without doing something rash.

Naturally, Wilbur has no clue about any of this at first and makes a drunken deal with Dream regarding George - if George sings for him, he and the child will stay with Dream and Wilbur will leave. If George doesn’t sing, he and the child will leave with Wilbur with all of their debts wiped away as not to burden their family further with his problems. Wilbur then proceeds to try his best to convince George to stay with him by using nostalgia yet again since he now knows who the child belongs to as well, but in the end, George realizes that although he may have loved Wilbur at one time, his love for Dream transcends all that and has never once wavered despite everything they’ve been through. Throughout everything, Dream has always been there waiting for him and wants nothing more than for George and their child to have the life they deserve - Wilbur lost all of that a long time ago. George makes his choice, and Wilbur leaves as promised with the acceptance that he while no longer makes George happy, Dream does and he’ll take care of him - but the child, however, leaves with a distraught Fundy seeking to “right his problems.”

They manage to catch up to Fundy in time to avoid disaster, but not completely as he still views George as the reason he could never be happy with Dream and winds up fatally shooting him in the midst of a mental breakdown. Dream can do nothing but hold George - the man he loved and was finally loved by in return  - as it’s revealed to the child who his real father is, only for him to flee the scene in horror of the truth. For once, Dream is at a loss for what to do because there isn’t any more time for them to have their happy ending and he hasn’t any idea what to do about their child without George. In his dying moments, George soothingly reminds him of one simple fact: Love never dies, and the best thing he can do is just live and give everything he can for both himself and the child now as all they have is each other. With a final kiss, George slips away and a sobbing Dream is left cradling his body when the child and Wilbur - who he ran to find to help George after he was shot - arrive on the scene. 

Dream isn’t cruel. He understands how Wilbur must feel in the same situation, so he allows him to mourn the loss of George in his own way with the child as he contemplates whether or not he can continue on. While he debates what to do with himself, the child slowly comes to him unafraid and willing to face the man he now knows to be his father in a new light. In his eyes, Dream can see George, and that’s more than enough for him to stay just a little longer in the world.

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Sorry if that’s a lot to process and read through, but it was a lot to get out and I wanted to be crystal clear on things as not to confuse people. This is for the most part just hitting the main plot points of the musicals, however, tweaking and adjustments and further deep-dive analyses can be done now that I’ve gotten the main idea out of the way. I definitely don’t want to stick too strictly to it myself and want to tailor it more to the SMP events and characters, but I’ll save that for later since it’s already super late and I should be writing my fic instead.

Happy writing kiddos, thank you for letting me indulge myself with this concept and I hope you enjoyed it~ <3

[hysterialevi]

Eitr | Chapter 6

Fanfic summary: In an alternate universe where the Raven Clan is wiped out, Sigurd ends up being rescued by the son of a Saxon ealdorman, and is tasked with being the boy’s new bodyguard. Upon meeting the boy’s father however, Sigurd soon realizes that the ealdorman is responsible for his clan’s destruction, and secretly plans for revenge while hiding behind the guise of a Norse pagan turned Christian.

Point of view: third-person

Pairing: Sigurd Styrbjornson x Male OC

This story is also on AO3 | Previous chapter | Next chapter

ONE WEEK LATER

FORANGAL CASTLE, THE COURTYARD

Swinging the wooden blade with a firm grip, Sigurd sent Edric stumbling backwards as the other man lost hold of his sword and collapsed to the ground, bringing their fight to a close.

At the moment, they were engaging in a friendly spar in the middle of the courtyard and spending the morning away from their noble duties, hoping to catch a minute of peace.

Things had calmed down somewhat ever since Sigurd first arrived at Forangal, and most of the people seemed to have finally accepted that their new friend wasn’t going anywhere soon, but Edric feared tensions would only rise again with the upcoming visit of one of the local thegns.

Due to the surprising increase of Dane activity in Wedenscire recently, Ealdorman Aegenwulf had called upon one of his old friends -- a man by the name of Raedan -- and summoned him to the castle for an official meeting.

Apparently, Raedan was one of the strongest thegns in the shire -- in addition to being one of the most respected -- and held quite a reputation for battling his fair share of vikings. He resided in a peaceful corner of England’s countryside nowadays with his wife and two children, but his sword was never out of arm’s reach.

The man sounded like a warrior just based on what Edric had told Sigurd so far. He may have been an Anglo-Saxon at heart, but it was clear that he didn’t share the diplomatic methods of his fellow thegns. 

He often favored taking the more aggressive approach when it came to confronting vikings, and considering how much this war was taking a turn for the worse, Sigurd only assumed that Aegenwulf had called for his aid out of sheer desperation.

Was there another clan he wished to wipe out? Did he plan to carry out a second assault? Or was there something else brewing beneath the surface, waiting to erupt? He supposed only time would tell.

“Ah...!” Edric panted, worn out from the fight. “You beat me again! I knew Norse warriors were strong, but... my goodness. You fight with the wrath of God Himself...!”

Sigurd smirked, resting a hand on the hilt of his sword. “You do yourself a disservice, Edric. For a man of your age, you are not so gentle either.”

The nobleman chuckled. “You are kind, but it’s evident to me that I must polish some of my skills. The trainers we have here in Forangal -- they’ve taught me nothing of true battle. Most of them treat me like a doll. They fear that I’ll break if they hit me too hard.”

“Then they are also doing you a disservice. Real war will not coddle you. They are only setting you up for defeat.”

Edric nodded in agreement. “I suppose they are, aren’t they? Or perhaps they’re just afraid of what my father will do if they whack me over the head too firmly. I know plenty of them have received an earful from other lords whose sons ran crying to them when they ended up with a black eye. Well, fortunately for me, I have you here now. Maybe you can change things.”

Sigurd reached a hand out. “I think I already have. Unless, of course, your bishop is always this irate.”

The young man sighed deeply, allowing his friend to pull him up. “Hundwerth still hasn’t gotten over it, has he? I swear, you’d think the Devil himself pissed in his ale with how he constantly behaves. I hope he hasn’t given you too much trouble.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Sigurd replied. “I have dealt with many other Saxons like him before. I am no stranger to his type.”

“No, I imagine you aren’t. Still, I wish he’d treat you with more civility. You have yet to give us any reason to distrust you, and frankly, Hundwerth is only making things worse in the castle with his incessant arguing. But, I digress...”

Patting his clothes clean of any dirt, Edric retrieved his fallen sword and neatly placed it back on the rack, eager to have a rest.

“Thank you for training with me today, Sigurd. I know it’s not technically your decision whether or not you get to spend time with me, but I am still grateful for your company. I realize this past week has been difficult for you.”

The viking smiled warmly. “It’s my pleasure. Out of all the people in Forangal, you and your siblings have been the most hospitable. It’s a great relief to have you around.”

Edric beamed at the compliment. “I’m glad to hear it. Though, I fear things will only get more difficult from now on, what with the upcoming arrival of Thegn Raedan.”

Sigurd crossed his arms. “Remind me, when is he coming?”

“If things go according to plan, he and his family should be here by tomorrow morning. They were supposed to be here today, but from what I understand, they were held up by some... ‘complications.’ Details are vague, but it’s pretty clear that Danes were involved.”

“What makes you say that?”

Edric took on a more serious tone. “Keep this between us, but I overheard Raedan’s messenger say that they spotted a group of Danes lurking in the woods north of Agenbury. They didn’t attack anyone, but their presence was enough for Raedan to delay the journey for one night. It doesn’t sound like anything urgent -- yet -- but I’d be lying if I said the news didn’t have me on edge.”

Sigurd paused for a moment. “Agenbury? That’s just outside of Forangal. Is it normal for Danes to be so close?”

“Apart from you? No. Sometimes, we’ll get the occasional straggler wandering about these parts, but it’s rare to see an entire pack of them traveling together like that. And unlike your situation, I didn’t get the impression that these Danes were here by accident. It makes me wonder what they’re really doing here.”

The viking furrowed his brow on thought. “I agree, that does sound odd.”

Edric shrugged in a casual manner. “Well, if we do end up having any trouble with them, perhaps you could try to smooth things over. I realize that not all Danes are bound by camaraderie as some Saxons would believe, but still, it’d be a better chance than one of our people approaching them.”

Sigurd wasn’t so sure. “Hmm. Possibly. Or... it could just make things even worse.”

“How do you mean?”

“Many Danes have a mutual hatred for your people,” Sigurd explained. “They would treat you with the same animosity that Hundwerth has treated me. If they see a Norse such as myself defending you, they might see it as betrayal.”

Edric nodded in understanding. “Ah. I see. I suppose that’s to be expected. Danes have a strong sense of loyalty, do they not?”

The Norse grinned at the understatement. “Oh, yes. We do, indeed. Especially among our clans. There is nothing we wouldn’t do for our own people, and that gives us strength.”

“What about your clan?” Edric asked, bringing the other man to a halt. “I know you said you travel alone nowadays, but... you must’ve had one before, right? What happened to them? Why did you leave?”

Sigurd hesitated for a second, trying not to dwell on the grief that still racked his heart. 

“I... didn’t leave.” He clarified, his voice much softer now. “They were killed. All of them. Including my brother. It’s possible that some could have survived, but if they did... I’ve yet to find them. The rest of us have simply... scattered to the winds.”

Edric picked up on the man’s pain, suddenly feeling the urge to console him. 

“...I’m sorry.” He said, resting a hand on Sigurd’s arm. “It seems that the cruelties of this war know no boundaries. I only hope that, one day, we may see the sun rise in the morning without having to fear whether or not we’ll see it set.”

The Norseman shared his sentiment. “As do I. Perhaps then we will finally know true peace.”

Trailing off into silence, Sigurd placed his sword down and stared blankly into the distance, mindlessly gravitating towards Edric’s comforting gaze.

He couldn’t quite place it, but there was something... new in the nobleman’s eyes; a subtle glint of fondness. He seemed to be drawn to his viking counterpart and looked at him in a manner similar to the way Randvi once did, and if Sigurd didn’t know any better, he would’ve said that Edric was... infatuated with him.

But... no. He had to be mistaken. Sigurd knew how much stricter the Saxons were when it came to men fancying other men, and even though Edric had butted heads with Hundwerth in the past, it was still quite clear that he lived his life according to God’s word. There was no way he would’ve allowed himself to develop such feelings.

Though, despite his reluctance to admit it, Sigurd couldn’t hide the fact that a part of him shared Edric’s affection. The nobleman was rather handsome in the viking’s opinion, and with every day he spent accompanying the young lord around the castle, he found it harder to deny how he truly felt.

But even then, Sigurd was aware that he had to control his thoughts. He was nothing more than a servant to Aegenwulf and his family, and it was not his place to engage in such a relationship with one of his masters. He had just started to gain the ealdorman’s trust after days of keeping his head down, and he did not wish to besmirch himself now.

“I, um...” Sigurd said awkwardly, clearing his throat, “I think we should... return to our duties.”

Edric snapped back to reality and swiftly pulled his hand away, suddenly wondering if he had overstepped his boundaries.

“Oh, right...!” He blurted out sheepishly. “Of course. Forgive me.”

The young man turned away from Sigurd, knotting his hands together in embarrassment.

“Erm, p-perhaps we could retire to the kitchen for now? I hear that Nelda’s in the process of making a fresh batch of soul cakes. You should try one. I think you’d like them. They’re quite good at this--”

“--Lone Wolf!”

Bringing their conversation to a halt, both Sigurd and Edric turned to the side when a third voice abruptly barged into the scene, shattering the calm nature of the courtyard with their gruff bellowing.

“...Algar.” Sigurd said lowly, glaring at their guest. “What do you want?”

The housecarl dismissed the viking’s question and approached Edric, throwing a nonchalant smirk at him.

“You ought to teach your new pet some manners, my lord. He doesn’t learn his place soon enough, he’s bound to get hurt.”

Edric crossed his arms, instantly switching to a more assertive temperament. “Sigurd is not some dog to be led around on a leash, Algar. He is a man, just like you and me. And I expect him to be treated as such. Now, I believe he asked you a question.”

Algar chuckled at the young man’s defiance and brought his attention back to Sigurd, pointing a finger at him.

“You. Come with me. The ealdorman wants to see you.”

“What for?”

Algar shrugged. “Does it matter? Just come along.”

Sigurd didn’t budge just yet. “Forgive me if I’m somewhat hesitant. I only want to make sure I’m not walking into a potential execution like the last time you dragged me around the castle.”

Edric joined in. “I would also like to know the reason. Is everything alright with my father?”

The housecarl sighed, resting a foot on a nearby stump as he spoke. “There’s no need to worry your pretty little face, young lord. Ealdorman Aegenwulf merely has concerns about the Dane activity in Wedenscire, and wants to know if your bodyguard here is connected to it.”

The nobleman glanced at Sigurd. “...Are you suggesting he’s betrayed us?”

Algar shook his head. “In order for one to be a traitor, one must first be a friend. I don’t think Sigurd can exactly call himself that yet. Do you?”

Sigurd stepped between Algar and Edric, tired of the housecarl’s games.

“Enough running around in circles. If you have questions to ask of me, ask. I have nothing to hide.”

The other man smiled darkly. “...You sure about that, Lone Wolf? I suppose we’ll see soon enough, won’t we? Well then, right this way.” 

Removing his foot from the stump, Algar promptly turned on his heel and began making his way out of the courtyard, beckoning Sigurd to follow him with a simple wave. Before the viking could leave however, Edric quickly grabbed the man’s arm and held him back for a moment, whispering a few words of caution in his ear.

“...Be careful, Sigurd. I don’t like where this is going.”

The older man nodded. “Have no fear, my lord. I won’t let my guard down.”

“Good. Don’t. I’d like for you to return to me in one piece.”

“I’ll be alright, Edric. Do not worry about me.”

A light laugh escaped the Saxon’s lips. “A task much easier said than done, I’m afraid. But I suppose it’s out of my hands now. If my father has summoned you, it’s best not to keep him waiting. Go on. I’ll see you afterwards.”

Deciding to let it go for now, Edric released his friend -- albeit somewhat reluctantly -- and allowed the Norse to follow in Algar’s footsteps, leaving him alone in the courtyard. 

He didn’t know if the housecarl’s intentions were sincere, or if there was some sort of ulterior motive lurking in the background, but regardless of whatever the case was, Edric had to admit that he felt uncomfortable leaving Sigurd alone with him.

The man was a snake. Everyone knew it. Despite his gargantuan size, Algar often clung to the shadows like a thief and slithered his way around words, twisting people’s minds as if they were nothing more than toys for him to play with. He molded people with their own fear, and broke them to the point of no return.

He was technically bound to Aegenwulf’s command, but Edric had no doubts he would harm Sigurd if he felt it necessary. Algar seemed to operate based on his own code, and that put the nobleman on edge.

Letting out a sigh, Edric returned to his duties and pushed his thoughts away for the moment, deciding to carry on with his morning. Even though he was concerned about Sigurd’s well-being, he knew it was no longer within his control to determined what happened to him. That man’s fate was in Aegenwulf’s hands now, and Edric would just have to hope for the best.

~~~~~~~~~~

A WHILE LATER

ALGAR’S CHAMBERS

Stepping into the dimly-lit room, Sigurd felt a sense of alarm settling into his chest as he followed Algar into his quarters, flicking his eyes around in nervousness.

Contrary to what he expected, Aegenwulf was nowhere to be seen. There were no signs that the ealdorman had been there recently, and just based on the housecarl’s laid-back demeanor, Sigurd assumed he wouldn’t be showing up anytime soon.

He glanced around the room and placed his hands on his hips, shrugging at Algar.

“Where’s the ealdorman?” Sigurd asked in an accusatory tone. “I thought you said he wanted to see me.”

The other man scoffed, shutting the door behind them. “Aegenwulf is irrelevant to this conversation. This... is between you and me.”

“...So you lied.”

Algar strode over to his end table and grabbed the pitcher that sat on its surface, pouring himself a glass of wine.

“I did only what was necessary. I knew Edric would never free you into my grasp if he was aware we’d be alone.” 

The Saxon turned to face Sigurd, taking a sip from his goblet. “It seems the young lord has grown fond of you. I have to admit, that’s an outcome even I wasn’t expecting.”

Sigurd leaned against a wall, crossing his arms. “You didn’t expect me to survive Ravensthorpe either.”

Algar grinned. “True enough. I suppose you’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?”

The viking grew impatient. “What is this about, Algar? Why have you brought me here?”

The housecarl remained silent for a moment and simply drank more of his wine, allowing his thoughts to realign themselves before firmly setting the cup back down on the table.

“...Who did you tell?” He finally asked, leaving Sigurd in a state of confusion.

“What? Who did I tell about what?”

Algar shot him a fierce glare. “Oh, spare me the act. You know exactly what I’m talking about. You told someone about the attack on Ravensthorpe, didn’t you? Well, who was it? Who was your contact? Where are they now?”

Sigurd shook his head in frustration. “You’re spewing nonsense, Saxon. No one in Forangal besides you and Aegenwulf knows about Ravensthorpe. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

The housecarl prowled towards the Norseman. “Is that so? Then explain to me why there’s a group of Danes in Wedenscire at this very moment investigating the ambush. I assume you heard about Thegn Raedan’s delay? Well, he postponed his journey because of these Danes. And coincidentally, they happen to be near Agenbury. The same town you first visited.”

“How am I supposed to know? Not all Danes have a connection with each other.”

“No, but as I said before, they are specifically investigating the ambush in Ravensthorpe. And on top of that, my scouts also report that they originate from East Anglia -- one of the kingdoms allied with your clan. You expect me to believe that this has nothing to do with you?”

Sigurd sighed, already growing weary of the man’s obstinacy.

“How would I even get the word out? I’m trapped in a castle full of Saxons who would see me dead if they knew my true identity. What, you think I just strolled up to someone and asked for their aid? Don’t be foolish.”

Algar formed his own conclusion. “Well, if you didn’t tell anyone, then that means someone outside of Wedenscire knows about the attack.”

Sigurd’s brow furrowed in resentment. “Perhaps you weren’t as thorough as you thought. There could be other survivors.”

The housecarl narrowed his eyes. “And I suppose you expect me to believe that these ‘survivors’ have yet to try to reach you?”

“What I have to say means nothing. You’ve clearly made up your mind.”

Algar let out a breath, deciding to drop the subject for now. It was obvious that he wasn’t going to get any information out of Sigurd with this method, and unlike other prisoners, he didn’t have the option of dragging him to the torture chambers. He’d have to think of another approach.

“Fine,” he said plainly. “Keep your secrets, Norse. I will learn the truth eventually, whether you like it or not. In the meantime, see to it that you stick to your duties. If you give me even the smallest reason to suspect betrayal, I will not hesitate to strike you down.”

The Saxon walked over to the door and yanked it open, gesturing for Sigurd to leave.

“Now, get out of here. I have much that I must attend to.”

Pushing himself off the wall, Sigurd gladly removed himself from Algar’s chambers and headed for the exit, eager to take his leave. 

Just before he could step through the entrance though, a sudden thought crossed his mind and stopped him in his tracks, causing him to glance over his shoulder as he asked one last thing.

“Before I go,” he said despondently, lingering in the doorway, “I need to know -- what exactly did you do to Eivor? How... how did my brother die?”

Algar’s signature smirk returned upon hearing the question and he leaned against the frame, causing the wood to creak.

“Still hurting, are we? You need to let him go, love. He’s not coming back.”

The viking glowered at him. “You think I don’t know that? I know he’s dead. I know my home is gone. But I need to know what happened to him. I need to know whether he died a warrior’s death.”

The Saxon tilted his head in a taunting fashion. “...Your brother died gracefully, Sigurd. He died in a bed of flowers surrounded by his family, and asked me to tell you that he always loved you. We shipped him off on a boat of fire, and soon after, the Valkyries brought him to Valhalla. Now, he feasts and drinks in your name at Odin’s side, waiting for you to join him as he prepares for the Twilight of the Gods. A true warrior’s paradise.”

Sigurd clenched his jaw in hatred, having to restrain himself from attacking Algar right then and there. He knew the man was only trying to rile him up, but the pain of Eivor’s loss remained deep in his heart, and he couldn’t help but feel a certain rage boiling inside him.

“...Your time will come, Algar,” Sigurd practically growled, his voice barely above a whisper. “And when it does, I’ll be there, standing over you and smiling down at your mutilated corpse as the light flickers from your eyes.”

Algar was hardly fazed by the threat. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, Lone Wolf. Run along, now. I’m sure Lord Edric is eager to see you.”

Calming himself down, Sigurd simply turned away from the housecarl without saying another word and stormed off into the distance, not even bothering to acknowledge the prying eyes of the Saxons who stood outside.

He knew it was unwise to let his anger run free in such a manner, but in spite of all his attempts to stifle it, Sigurd’s wrath only seemed to burn brighter with each passing day. There was a feeling of hopelessness that he just couldn’t shake off, and with Algar constantly fanning the flames of his grief, part of him feared that he would no longer be able to contain it.

He was only human, after all, and he had his limits just like everyone else. But for the sake of not jeopardizing his relationship with Aegenwulf and his family, Sigurd forced himself to hold it back.

He was already short on friends in this godforsaken castle, and considering the fact that yet another thegn was soon to be in their midst, Sigurd knew it would be foolish to betray the ealdorman’s trust at such an early time.

The Nornir put him on this path for a reason, and regardless of any struggles he may have had to endure along the way, Sigurd decided to put his faith in their judgement for now. 

They were the only ones guiding his hand in this obscure land, and he did not wish to defy their plans.

~~~~~~~~~~

THAT EVENING

IN THE WOODS OUTSIDE FORANGAL

“Gjuki!” Broder called out, walking over to the man as he observed the distant castle. “The disguises are ready.”

Gjuki kept his eyes on the walls of Forangal and studied the guards’ routines, meticulously searching for an opening.

“And what of the Saxon thegn?” He questioned. “Any updates on his whereabouts?”

“He hasn’t reached Forangal yet,” Broder answered. “Our scouts say he plans to arrive tomorrow morning at the main gates. Everyone will be there to welcome him, including the ealdorman.”

Gjuki seemed pleased with the news. “Good. Then everything should go smoothly.”

“The plan is still the same?”

The bard looked away from the castle, slowly making his way back to their camp. “Yes. At dawn, we’ll catch up with Raedan’s personal guard and sneak into their ranks. From there, we’ll follow him all the way to Forangal and infiltrate the castle’s walls.”

Broder shrugged. “And then?”

“...Then, we keep an eye out for Eivor’s brother.”

The other man remained skeptical. “You really think Sigurd is still alive? You heard what Eivor said. The man was shot twice before he fell into the river. Chances are he drowned, or died before he even hit the water.”

Gjuki wasn’t convinced. “Do not be so quick to dismiss the unlikely, Broder. It happens more often than you think. Even though I am not yet certain if the fisherman in Agenbury was speaking of the same man, I do believe it is possible at the very least. The Dane he rescued from the river matches Eivor’s description perfectly, and the timing of his arrival is somewhat suspicious.”

Broder decided to humor him. “Fine. Let’s say we do find Sigurd. What then? How are we supposed to get him back home?”

Gjuki sighed, chewing his lip in thought. “I’m afraid I do not yet have an answer for that. If Sigurd is in Forangal, it’s most-likely that he’s under heavy guard. Possibly in the dungeons. If we find him, we’ll report it to Eivor first. I think we’ve left him in the dark for long enough, don’t you?”

“Whatever you think is right, Gjuki.”

The bard smiled. “Good. Then we should focus on getting some rest. Tomorrow will be a busy day, and if everything goes according to plan, we’ll be surrounded by Saxon forces soon enough. I don’t want any of you letting your guard down.”

Broder gave him a firm nod. “Understood.”

“Come, my friend,” Gjuki beckoned, guiding the other man with a hand on the shoulder. “The day is young, and our bellies are still empty. Let us drink to our good fortune, and pray that the gods favor us in the times to come. Odin knows we’ll need it.”

[stevenuniversallyreviews]

Episode 126: The Good Lars

“Maybe I should be trying to fix my life.”

The Good Lars is a massive bummer, and it makes me so, so happy.

Lars has always been a character with a ton of potential that, in my mind, is muted by his inability to learn. Pretty much all of his focus episodes have been about him taking a big step towards his character growing, but then resetting to his typical jerky self in his next episode instead of actually continuing that growth. On a rational level I can appreciate the realism in a stubborn character’s inflexibility, but even if it’s by design, it’s super frustrating to watch. The Good Lars shows that he still has a long way to go, and pointedly lacks the Lars Learns conclusion that Lars episodes like to bait us with, but this is where it finally feels like his story is going somewhere.

The New Lars was apparently the first step that stuck: seeing everyone, including his parents, prefer Steven-as-Lars to Lars-as-himself must’ve been a wake-up call. I love his final speech in that episode about hating how weird Beach City is, as it casts a surprising new light on his surly attitude, but after so many false starts we need some follow-through to make that speech fully land, and The Good Lars fits the bill.

Right off the bat, we see Lars take a genuine risk and put his food out there for Steven to try. We’ve known since all the way back in Lars and the Cool Kids that Lars’s apathy is a practiced act, and it’s hindered him again and again and again in every relationship he has. And we’ve known since Island Adventure that he’s a skilled cook, so it’s not a stretch that his abilities extend to baking. That he’d hide just how much he likes making food is totally in line with what we know about him, so it’s gigantic that he opens up about it here.

Steven is a terrific test subject for Lars’s food, as beyond his general kindness and enthusiasm, we’ve already seen him praise Lars’s food before in Island Adventure. The problem is that Lars is aware of this, which allows his self-destructive nature to undermine his sense of accomplishment in seeing someone love his baking. There’s not much critical value in praise from someone who only ever provides praise, and when presented with an opportunity to take an even bigger risk by letting the Cool Kids try his food, Lars flounders.

He may be growing, but he’s still cagey and irate. He takes a big step, but he’s too afraid to leap. But because he might move forward at last, because he might change his status quo on a show where the status quo is more than capable of changing, Steven and Sadie and the audience are given room to hope. Just enough room to hurt us when he can’t go through with it.

That fragile sense of hope radiating throughout The Good Lars is amplified by its status as the calmest episode in the show’s third act. It’s just so quiet compared to its surroundings, with no major confrontations by virtue of Lars’s pivotal moment of cowardice occurring off-screen. Our happy scenes are tinged with melancholy, and our sad scenes have glimpses of joy, and it’s the perfect tone to set for our last moment of peace before Steven’s life falls apart again.

All of my issues with Lars over the past 120-odd episodes are given new meaning as we see him waver back and forth in The Good Lars. Yes, it’s annoying that he refuses to retain lessons he learns throughout the series, but we see here that his dismal self-confidence doesn’t allow him to trust that he’d be accepted for who he is, so of course he falls back on prickliness over and over again.

To be fair, it’s hard to tell where he stands with Buck, who seems to enjoy messing with Lars but who also seems to genuinely appreciate Lars, but who also might only genuinely appreciate Lars out of irony because that’s totally a thing Buck would do, but who also might love irony so much that his ironic appreciation of Lars might wrap back around to genuine appreciation. It’s awesome that we see Buck in his Shirt Club tee showing off the guitar skills he picked up from taking lessons with Greg; referencing an episode that explored the downside of Buck’s allergy to sincerity paints Lars’s own attempts to hide how he feels in a damning light. Even we the audience can’t be sure if Buck thinks Bingo Bongo is “transcendent” because he likes it or he thinks it’s dumb and that it’s funny to say that it’s great. I'm pretty sure it’s the former, but from the episode alone there’s just no way to be sure.

So it makes sense that Buck, whose mastery of the detached facade is undeniable, is an aspirational figure for Lars, who’s uncannily bad at playing it cool. As much as I’ve praised the Cool Kids for being far more delightful than the Cool Kid trope often allows, they’re not without their flaws: it’s a little stinging that they still use terms like “Donut Kids” and “Donut Girl” instead of real names with their ostensible peers (but then again, they’re often referred to as “The Cool Kids”). Nobody, not even Lars, is fully to blame for Lars’s insecurity, but Buck’s affected demeanor sets a poor example for a kid who puts him on a pedestal.

Lars’s wavering consumes the first half of the episode, and throughout the baking montage we get shots like the above, where Steven and Sadie are capable of relaxing but Lars is obsessed with getting things right. It’s refreshing to see him so passionate, but this obsession is just another manifestation of his insecurity, his need to be perfect so that he’ll fit in. There’s a subtle cultural element to his ordeal, as ube is a traditional Philippine dessert that Lars writes off as “my family’s weird purple cake”—while I somehow doubt the Cool Kids are racist against Filipinos, it tracks that a kid who’s desperate to fit in would fear anything that sets him apart.

Still, it’s a pleasant sequence where Lars lets his guard down, first in the joy of baking and then as he opens up to Steven. His opinion that baking is lame is perhaps the most adolescent aspect of this very teenagey episode, because it’s an absurd notion which he believes so strongly that he can’t seem to fathom that it’s about the coolest skill you can bring to a group whose idea of a good time is a potluck. Lars thinks he’s lame, and he loves baking, thus he thinks baking is lame. His lack of self-worth even extends to people who like him, as he casually asserts that nobody knows he likes to bake when Sadie and Steven are right there; it’s a rotten thing to say, sure, but it comes from a severe confidence shortage.

Lars’s attitude is simple to understand early the series: he’s insecure, so he acts like a jerk to hide his soft interior. But The New Lars and now The Good Lars thrive by diving deeper and showing just how bad his self-esteem issues really are. This isn’t run-of-the-mill teen angst, it’s the kind of depression he describes in Island Adventure, and when we understand how much he’s suffering he suddenly fits right in with Pearl and Lapis Lazuli at their worst. This is what we needed of him for his big moment in space to hit home, so thank goodness we get it right on time.

Steven’s pep talk seems to do the trick, and we move into our third act with that bubble of hope just waiting to be popped. It becomes clear pretty quickly that something’s gonna go wrong when Steven excitedly amps up the ube, and seeing Sadie alone hammers the hard truth home, but before we make it official there’s a lovely moment of Sadie, who’s no stranger to awkwardness herself, quickly winning over the Cool Kids. I’ll never get tired of how great these kids are, and even Sadie will talk about it soon enough.

The search scene is a fascinating montage, showing Steven failing over and over but accompanied by a jaunty score that keeps our hopes alive despite what’s now an obvious conclusion. Steven’s leap into the air is the first big moment of the episode that involves weird Gem stuff, and its sudden appearance highlights how down-to-earth our little adventure has been; in the same way, his instinct to use mind powers is soon trumped by the human pragmatism of just calling Lars. It sets the stage for an all-too-human resolution to Lars’s story, as Steven’s phone call ends with him finding the ube in the trash right outside Buck’s house, right as he’s imagining aloud a reality where Lars lets himself be happy.

Which leads to our story’s greatest trick, the aspect that cements it as one of my favorites: despite the name and the deep focus and the new insights we gain from that focus, The Good Lars was never a Lars Episode. It’s a Sadie Episode, and it’s a beautiful one.

Sadie, like Lars, is afraid to branch out. But unlike Lars, she’s brave enough to try anyway, and shares her hidden love of singing with the Cool Kids. She’s so invested in helping others that she forgets that she’s allowed to help herself, and if that sounds familiar it’s because it’s Steven’s entire character arc. When the mood dips to its lowest point with the ube in the garbage, we could’ve had an ending that matches the sadness of a hurting kid failing even when his friends believe in him. But instead, we get a scene of quiet grace as Sadie shares her voice and is praised in the way Lars strove for. She hears that he’s not coming, and takes a deep breath, and lets it be. She can’t control his night, but she can control hers, and she chooses her own happiness instead of letting his issues ruin her evening.

She and Steven have both accepted Lars for who he is, and while both want him to move past the barriers he’s set up, the lessons of Sadie’s Song return with a vengeance in a way that makes me wish so badly that I liked Sadie’s Song. Steven has traces of his worst self from that story by wondering if they should’ve pushed Lars even harder, but as Sadie starts to agree with him, she realizes that no, they shouldn’t, because it’s not up to them to make Lars happy. They can try, and they should, but friends aren’t failures if their friends can’t take steps for themselves. It’s a hard lesson to learn, but it’s one last reminder that Steven shouldn’t put the world on his shoulders before Steven goes and puts the world on his shoulders.

I call this a Sadie Episode because she’s the one that grows in it. Lars is in his rut of inaction, just as Steven is in his rut of misplaced responsibility, but Sadie gains the confidence boost of new friends and a new perspective into her relationship with a guy who came this close to admitting that he loved her to Steven. Lars is about to fail her through his cowardice in the same way Steven is about to fail Connie through his hubris, and like Connie, Sadie will use the opportunity to stand up for herself. And let’s not forget that this is the episode where Sadie Killer meets the Suspects.

The cliffhanger from Doug Out goes unacknowledged until the very end of The Good Lars, especially because Sour Cream seems unfazed by Onion’s disappearance for now; perhaps some viewers watched the episode waiting for the other shoe to drop, and I imagine such a lens colored the whole story in a way it didn’t for me. I wasn’t surprised by the reappearance of the two Gem silhouettes, but it remains a spine-chilling way to end such a human-centric tale. And even this provides us with hope, allowing us to imagine that Lars didn’t bail after all and was simply kidnapped by aliens. Stuck Together soon snatches that hope away, which is par for the course for Lars’s arc, but it’s a powerful episode that can make a character’s kidnapping seem like a good thing.

I understand the irony of me saying that an episode about Lars going nowhere is the episode that finally sees Lars going somewhere, but as Mindful Education (and therapy in general) suggests, acknowledging the problem is the first step towards solving it. Lars is about to become a major player, and Sadie is about to earn a new arc of her own, and I can’t think of a better way to set up both of these threads than The Good Lars.

Future Vision!

Beyond the reveal that he trashed the ube before his capture, Stuck Together generally acts as a direct sequel to The Good Lars.

“Bingo Bongo” was magical from the start, evoking Root Beer Guy’s equally magical “Bingo Bango” from Adventure Time. But seeing Lars own it as a badass space pirate is great shorthand for how much he’s grown.

Steven’s pep talk to Lars about going to the party is echoed in his pep talk to Lapis about returning to Earth in Can’t Go Back. Not only because both speeches are good advice, but because unfortunately neither succeeds to make the listener move past their anxiety by the episode’s end.

A story about Steven trying to help someone hellbent on sabotaging themselves and hurting others? That sounds like a good idea for a movie!

We’re the one, we’re the ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR!

As always, I’m a sucker for tone, and The Good Lars gets that feeling of teenage dreams grappling with the nightmare of depression just right, both for the victim and for friends of the victim (some of us got to be both!). It’s not overwrought, and we’re still allowed some joy, but it sucks to be so stuck in your head that you can’t move, and this episode captures that sensation way more succinctly than, say, Hamlet. Am I saying it’s better than Hamlet? Not really. But I heard somewhere that brevity is the soul of wit, and it’s certainly briefer.

Top Twenty-Five

Steven and the Stevens

Hit the Diamond

Mirror Gem

Lion 3: Straight to Video

Alone Together

Last One Out of Beach City

The Return

Jailbreak

The Answer

Mindful Education

Sworn to the Sword

Rose’s Scabbard

Earthlings

Mr. Greg

Coach Steven

Giant Woman

Beach City Drift

Winter Forecast

Bismuth

Steven’s Dream

When It Rains

The Good Lars

Catch and Release

Chille Tid

Lion 4: Alternate Ending

Love ‘em

Laser Light Cannon

Bubble Buddies

Tiger Millionaire

Lion 2: The Movie

Rose’s Room

An Indirect Kiss

Ocean Gem

Space Race

Garnet’s Universe

Warp Tour

The Test

Future Vision

On the Run

Maximum Capacity

Marble Madness

Political Power

Full Disclosure

Joy Ride

Keeping It Together

We Need to Talk

Cry for Help

Keystone Motel

Back to the Barn

Steven’s Birthday

It Could’ve Been Great

Message Received

Log Date 7 15 2

Same Old World

The New Lars

Monster Reunion

Alone at Sea

Crack the Whip

Beta

Back to the Moon

Kindergarten Kid

Buddy’s Book

Gem Harvest

Three Gems and a Baby

That Will Be All

The New Crystal Gems

Storm in the Room

Room for Ruby

Doug Out

Like ‘em

Gem Glow

Frybo

Arcade Mania

So Many Birthdays

Lars and the Cool Kids

Onion Trade

Steven the Sword Fighter

Beach Party

Monster Buddies

Keep Beach City Weird

Watermelon Steven

The Message

Open Book

Story for Steven

Shirt Club

Love Letters

Reformed

Rising Tides, Crashing Tides

Onion Friend

Historical Friction

Friend Ship

Nightmare Hospital

Too Far

Barn Mates

Steven Floats

Drop Beat Dad

Too Short to Ride

Restaurant Wars

Kiki’s Pizza Delivery Service

Greg the Babysitter

Gem Hunt

Steven vs. Amethyst

Bubbled

Adventures in Light Distortion

Gem Heist

The Zoo

Rocknaldo

Enh

Cheeseburger Backpack

Together Breakfast

Cat Fingers

Serious Steven

Steven’s Lion

Joking Victim

Secret Team

Say Uncle

Super Watermelon Island

Gem Drill

Know Your Fusion

Future Boy Zoltron

Tiger Philanthropist

No Thanks!

     6. Horror Club      5. Fusion Cuisine      4. House Guest      3. Onion Gang      2. Sadie’s Song      1. Island Adventure

[soveryanon]

Reviewing time for MAG151 /o/

- And Peter’s “friend” was, in the end, Simon Fairchild:

(MAG144) PETER: I’m absolutely delighted with your progress, and I feel you’ve earned some straight answers. MARTIN: But not from you. PETER: Oh, no. That sort of conversation makes me very uncomfortable. No, I’m owed a favour by a friend of mine. I’ve asked him to stop by, when he’s back in the country.

(MAG151) SIMON: Peter asked me to look in on you and… have a small chat. Well! A big chat, really. Answer all those… nagging questions. […] I lost a bet, and this is how the good captain chooses to use that. The second is… sort of?

Simon himself pointed out the compatibility between The Lonely and The Vast, but the Lukases had also collaborated with the Fairchilds on the Daedalus project (together with the Church of the Divine Host, although they were mostly invited into that project by Rayner to cough up the funding, according to Manuela). And Peter was indeed “owed a favour” because said friend had lost another bet. (So, amongst the gambling club, we got Salesa > Peter > Simon, so far. … Given how Peter had apparently betted on MAG066’s statement-giver’s death with Salesa, I’m… not sure I want to know what Simon and Peter had betted about, for Peter to win.)

Jon had kinda jinxed us that we would meet Simon this season, but Jon also avoided the Worst Of It:

(MAG124) ARCHIVIST: Simon Fairchild is one of the… recurrent figures that I think disquiets me the most. Not simply for what he does, the endless spaces of highs or depths to which he’s so quick to condemn his victims, but… the joy he seems to take in doing so. And I don’t think there is much to this tale beyond that: an evil man tormenting and killing simply for his own pleasure, and to feed the power that sustains him. […] I do not think I ever wish to meet him.

Congrats, Jon, you managed to not meet him although he came to the Institute! /o/ Staying holed up in the Archives has its perks. (… Especially considering how Jon had lost it in front of Breekon, I’m… not sure that he wouldn’t have thrown a fit in front of Simon. I mean. If Martin lost his cool so easily despite knowing how dangerous Simon is, Jon would have been a living nightmare about that guy.)

“Simon Fairchild” had been linked with a few “firsts” in the history of the series. He was one of Jon’s first cases at the Institute; he was in the first Vast statement we heard in the series, which had… been interrupted by Martin himself, as Martin was just returning from Prentiss’s entrapment and would give his statement in the very next episode:

(MAG051) ARCHIVIST: […] One of my first cases as a researcher for the Institute in 2012 was looking into the history of a jeweller in Hackney, that had reported cases becoming cracked in the night. Nothing was ever taken but, each morning it would be like a heavy weight had been dropped upon them. Looking into it, it turned out that the jewels had, in the 1930s, belonged to a con artist and fence, who had attracted the displeasure of the local population. When one particularly irate customer threw him out of a fourth-floor window into a crowded street at midday… no one claimed to have seen anything. A minor possible haunting with a decidedly pedestrian backstory, but notable because while I was never able to discover the original name of the con artist, one of his many, many aliases was Simon Fairchild, and it appeared on several business listings around the time. Whether it’s a coincidence or not is something of a moot point at this stage, however.

(MAG021) ARCHIVIST: […] It might just be a coincidence, but I recall the name “Simon Fairchild” was one of the ones used by– [DOOR OPENS, CHAIR TUMBLES] My god! Martin?! [SOMETHING SQUELCHES] What… What the hell is–? What are these things?! [CLICK.]

MAG124, “Left Hanging”, which featured Simon in the statement, also marked the first time that Jon had tried to interact with Martin since he had awakened from his ~coma~. So: it feels like “Simon” had been around for a while, surrounding important events but always escaping us a bit, before, finally, we met him in (what’s left of) the flesh.

- We had heard the name “Fairchild” since MAG021, and Gerry had mentioned that it wasn’t actually a family (MAG111: “Well, Fairchild’s just a name, they’re not really family.”) but we had heard of them as being… a clan of some sort (MAG089, Jude Perry: “Hangs around with the Fairchilds sometimes.”):

(MAG051) ARCHIVIST: […] A cursory bit of research reveals the Fairchilds in question to be an exceptionally wealthy family, based down in Cornwall. No real business to speak of, but it appears they’ve invested very wisely in aerospace technology, shipping logistics and underwater drilling and construction. Whatever their origin, I feel it’s worth keeping an eye on them.

… and turns out that HAHA:

(MAG151) SIMON: I’ve been “Simon Fairchild” about, um… eighty or ninety years, maybe? For business purposes, mainly – by which I mean I was bored of not being wealthy, so I made some arrangements and sent Mr. Fairchild on a very long fall. I could go into details, but without a certain amount of knowledge of 1930s tax practices, it wouldn’t mean very much to you.

It’s… not even a stolen name, it’s a stolen alias. And they all developed around it / kept Simon’s alias as a sign of respect / just used it for tax fraud and get rich, all along.

- Simon was a BLAST, rambly, jumpy, losing his breath here and there, living his best life of being terrible (only caring about the people he had traumatised/deprived of their closed ones when it came to introduce himself, casually threatening Martin, absolutely chill about the idea that yes, people are suffering and are meant to suffer or to disappear) – I’m especially fond of that moment:

(MAG151) SIMON: And honestly, the idea that this is all some… “grand cosmic joke”, thousands of us running around spreading horror and sabotaging each other pointlessly while these impossible, unknowable things just lurk out there, feeding off the misery we cause… [INHALE] I find that interpretation quite appealing…!

He just spat the whole sentence at full velocity, and we could hear the lack of oxygen towards the end, it was great and fitting for an avatar of The Vast! And he was an utter troll, to the point that Martin actually tried to threaten him?

(MAG151) SIMON: Peter said you’d have a lot of questions about that one. MARTIN: I do. [PAUSE] How are new powers born? SIMON: Hm… don’t know! MARTIN: How soon could it attempt its ritual? SIMON: No clue! MARTIN: How do we stop it? SIMON: Can’t help you! MARTIN: [THROUGH GRITTED TEETH] Could you, at least, try? SIMON: [FRANTIC] … No–no–no–no, you’re right, of course!

… TWICE:

(MAG151) MARTIN: I don’t see your point. SIMON: [INHALE] My point is… [PAUSE] … You know? I’ve quite forgotten! MARTIN: [EXASPERATED SIGH] SIMON: [PANICKED SOUNDS] I’ve just not been doing much recently, it’s not a good time for perspective, you see.

Martin meeting what is for us the oldest avatar around (… at least officially; what is Elias, etc.), even older than Rayner, somehow translated to “Martin on the verge of beating an old man, twice”. S2!Martin was bringing you tea; S4!Martin is done with each and every one of you and has gained so many levels in bossy from having to deal with Peter for excruciating months:

(MAG151) SIMON: [CHUCKLING] And this has been fun! [INHALE] Now. [CHAIR SCRAPING] If we’re about done– MARTIN: We’re not. Sit back down. SIMON: Boooold~ [CHUCKLE] [CHAIR SCRAPING] I like it.

(redusijnferd why did you sound so flirty, you pink skeleton of a man. Get in the queue to get a Power Claim on the boy.)

- We could perfectly feel that Simon was older than your regular avatar (if he worked under Tintoretto, it means he was born in the 16th century) through his way of looking at the Fears, the sheer… chillness? with the prospect of everyone dying/disappearing, but also more personally, in the portrait he was painting of Peter:

(MAG151) SIMON: Yes, well! You have to understand how it is with Peter. He finds talking to people directly very difficult, especially explaining the more, hum… esoteric side of things? MARTIN: Mm. SIMON: Charming chap, I’m sure you’ll agree, absolutely lovely, but… even if you can convince him to actually give you a straight answer, he’s just not that good at actually putting these things into words. Something to do with his upbringing, I think. [CONSPIRATORIALLY] I’m pretty sure he was home-schooled, you know! […] He is what he is, Martin. For a creature of The Lonely, the urge is always to isolate; never to communicate or connect. I suspect that’s why he’s so keen on wagers: it allows him a framework for cooperation that doesn’t risk any sort of intimacy.

… Simon was describing this awkward, kinda sweet guy who is trying his best to save the world but has a few disabilities and tries to manoeuvre around it. Meanwhile: we witnessed live Peter Lukas sending Brian Finlinson to The Lonely in MAG100 apparently Just Because He Could, and he whooshed two researchers who were only ignoring his directives while Jon was still unresponsive, and there is the whole Tundra deal; he also began to ramble in front of Martin about how he would have gone for Gertrude’s throat… I’m glad that Martin didn’t fall for it and was rightfully unimpressed (he also told Basira that Peter was “awful” right after). But it was telling that Simon would present Peter as this uwu sweet child uwu, when… really, absolutely nope.

(About the “home-school” bit: and how many Lukases children are “raised” in Moorland House, right now…?)

Simon was also… absolutely unsurprised by Little Institute Things:

(MAG151) SIMON: Ouuh! Hello? [CHAIR SCRAPING] Hmm~ […] Hm! No wonder I’m so sympathetic to The Lonely. You know: this really is a place for self-discovery, isn’t it? [CHUCKLE] “Statement ends”, I suppose! MARTIN: Uh… I’m sorry? SIMON: Oh! Nothing, just my own hubris. I should have known. When I came here, I said to myself: “Simon,” I said, “you’re going to answer this young man’s questions, but you’re not going to give The Watcher a statement. You’re better than that.” But it’s a hard one to resist, isn’t it? You get in the flow of talking about yourself, and it all just… tumbles out. MARTIN: Mm, does seem like it. SIMON: [CHUCKLING] And this has been fun!

(Oliver had also described Jon’s effect: “Be easier if you could talk back, right? Ask me questions and just have it tumble all out.” (MAG121)) Simon greeted the tape recorder (?), and knew about the “Statement ends” phrasing, and that one is… noteworthy, since it’s Jon’s trademark (later copied by Martin). Gertrude wasn’t using it, she immediately announced her “Final comments” after her readings - how did Simon know about Jon&Martin’s formulaic “Statement ends”? Did Peter describe it to him? (… Or Elias?)

- That episode was indeed a MAG111.2 (30th episode of season 3 / season 4!) – except it wasn’t Jon receiving the information, but Martin, and it was… less about categories and repartitions, more about how the Fears tend to operate in their irregularities. We didn’t even learn a lot about structures or terminology; technically, we… didn’t learn a lot, but mostly got a few confirmations for things that had been there for a while, although not fully assimilated, through an ~exterior~ point of view? The biggest information was probably that not all avatars are as afraid of The Extinction as Peter is:

(MAG151) SIMON: I’ve actually been toying with the idea of trying to do something with the scale of humanity itself; you know, emphasise all that “overpopulation” nonsense, but… honestly, it just… doesn’t ring true for me. We’re all just so tiny and pointless, you see; it’s hard to really get past it. Also, I worry it might be straying into territory that emboldens our potential new rival. MARTIN: … The Extinction. […] You don’t sound worried. SIMON: That’s because we disagree on exactly how bad it will be. Peter seems convinced that The Extinction is different. That its actual birth will be as bad or worse as another power fully manifesting. He believes its advent will be heralded by all sorts of disasters and catastrophes, and global upheavals, and whatnot. That kind of things. MARTIN: Sounds like a rich feeding ground. SIMON: Well, exactly! Peter, however, seems to think that it will upset the balance that we all have an awful lot invested in. And he’s not at all certain the world as we understand will come out the other side. MARTIN: And let me guess – you think he can’t see the “big picture”? […] You don’t think it will be the end of the world? SIMON: Oh! It very well might be, but… MARTIN: [EXPLOSIVE EXHALE] SIMON: Life has continued through dozens of apocalypses already. Ice ages; pandemics; calamities; extinctions… The only reason this one feels special is because, well… it’s happening to you. And that’s the sort of solipsism that tends to come with loneliness – in my experience. So. My feeling is that I’ll help out where I can; but ultimately, if this “Armageddon” comes off, then… so be it. Either billions suffer and life goes on; or billions suffer and life doesn’t. In the grand scheme of things, it’s all… much of a muchness.

(… That depiction of avatars as finance workers basically sharing the cake and eyeing cautiously the newcomer, not because of the positive or negative outcomes it could bring on clients/victims, but because it could steal some parts of their market…)

And it indeed fits: the one who had been doing all these researches about the new emergence is Adelard Dekker who, as far as we know, is human, and had explained in MAG113 how his own biggest fear had once been to die without realising it, such as in his sleep. It might have coloured how he researched and described The Extinction, how devastatingly annihilating he perceived it? And Peter has essentially based his own investigations on Adelard’s research, while Simon… tends to regard it as just another Fear – it’s bad, but then, they’re all bad and relying on people’s suffering (and coloured by his affiliation to The Vast – even if it’s worse than the others and supplants the other Fears, the universe will still be there, with or without humans).

So, at this point, it’s… possible that no, Peter and Martin won’t manage to stop The Extinction from being born, because it has already grown enough? But it doesn’t mean, either, that it would throw off the balance of the Fears game so much. However… it would probably be shattering for Martin, if his sacrificing his life for the Greater Good for almost a full year, not indulging in things he loved anymore (he stopped writing poetry, he turned away from Jon and contributed to his isolation, making him more susceptible to use his Powers thus going further into Beholding/monsterhood and increasing his victims count)… doesn’t lead to an achievement of any sort.

- In season 4’s own flavour: Simon also pursued the idea that nobody and nothing is exactly in control, that there is no Grand Scheme – but mostly things happening, an unidentified and anonymous system going around, in the frame of which avatars&monsters operate (and as Jon had put it in MAG145, run by the idea that “we’re all just… ‘groping about’. Trying desperately to find out what we’re actually meant to be doing.”). The Lightless Flame and The Dark respectively created Agnes and the Dark Sun mostly by believing strongly in their aims; and, overall, rituals are indeed attempts at putting a dream, a feeling into shape, and these translations are faillible on their own (if Jon&co hadn’t gone to The Unknowing, would it have stopped on its own…? Did Tim actually sacrifice himself stopping something that wouldn’t have worked anyway…?). Annabelle claimed to have a limited influence, and to not be aware of any greater plan from The Web. Elias (as much as we can trust what he wants to convey) is limited, erratic, and fallible – admitted that he had “overreacted” when he had killed Leitner, didn’t pay attention to the assistants’ plan to arrest him, claimed that he hadn’t seen that The Dark’s side had been too heavily damaged to even attempt a ritual. Martin got told that Peter in himself wasn’t such a big deal; that his promise to protect the Institute against unknown threats… had been mostly a smokescreen because he really wanted/needed Martin to work with him:

(MAG134) PETER: Martin, this is what we agreed. After The Flesh attacked, you came to me. MARTIN: [SIGH] PETER: And I’ve held up my end of the bargain, despite your continued hesitation. Your friends have been largely untroubled by the many – many – enemies that they have made. MARTIN: What about the delivery guy? Breekon. And the coffin?

(MAG151) MARTIN: How honest has he been with me? SIMON: About which part? MARTIN: Protecting the others. SIMON: I think he tried. I suspect he may have slightly exaggerated his abilities when you first made the deal, but he certainly expended a reasonable amount of influence and resources to follow through. MARTIN: But… [EXPLOSIVE SIGH] But that was never the endgame, was it? He just wanted me on side long enough to rope me into his… his plans for The Extinction. SIMON: Do you really need me to answer that one? […] I think… [INHALE] I think Peter is taking a rather large, but calculated gamble. Not just on you, but on a lot of things. If it works, he’ll be in a very strong position. And if he fails… it won’t be all that bad.

We had indeed never seen Peter actually doing anything regarding that “protection” bit: he found excuses for his inaction when Breekon breached in (Jon had been quicker), and blamed Jon’s decisions to get involved with spooks (back then, the coffin; and Martin had been unaware about the Svalbard trip until Daisy told him). Nothing about the spiders, either. And now: confirmation that Peter was actually useless but wanted to Sound Impressive to get Martin. It doesn’t mean that he can’t be damaging (Elias was absolutely awful on a one-on-one basis) but it paints him in a less threatening/all-controlling light, too.

(- Is Peter annoyed by analogies

(MAG151) SIMON: Alright. Let’s… try one of those analogies Peter finds so annoying.

… because they’re a way to connect and create links between what are essentially different ideas. That sounds like the nerdiest Lonely thing. (You want to kill a Lukas? Talk in *gasp* metaphors.))

- I loved how Martin wasn’t letting it go? Was pressing and cornering to get his answers? And was, at the same time, kinda poetic / very… sensible, in his approach?

(MAG151) MARTIN: It doesn’t scare you? SIMON: Martin. Taken on a cosmic scale, we’ve never even been alive…! Not in any way that might register, I mean, if this… dreadful little planet had a fractionally different orbit, and life had never even started here, then… ultimately, nothing of any real importance would have changed. [SILENCE] MARTIN: [POINTEDLY] I think our experience of the universe has value. Even if it disappears forever. SIMON: … What a Lonely way to look at things. Which makes sense, I suppose. […] MARTIN: And… and how did you get started with it all? Did you, did you, [SARCASTIC CHUCKLE] did you just look up at the sky one day, and fall head over heels in love?

1°) Of course, Martin would (even snarkily) describe the process of getting involved with a Fear as ~falling in love~.

2°) I… don’t have much to say about Simon and Martin’s opposition, but I like them both? I like how they’re both extremely valid, indeed, depending on the scale? (And it kind of resonates with Gertrude’s way of dealing with the Fears: she seemed to favour the “big picture” in her own way, sacrificing people if it means saving the world, multiple times; but every person she decided to sacrifice without their consent, or saw as a casualty to attain her goal… had value, too?)

- Interestingly, Martin still spontaneously identified the Distortion as “Michael” – not “Helen”?

(MAG151) MARTIN: Things like Mi– Hum, th– er, the Distortion. I thought they were part of the Entities themselves, ext– extensions. Surely, they know what’s going on? SIMON: Honestly, I think they have it a lot worse than we do. Imagine being a hand that can conceive of itself, having impulses shot through you, being moved and clenched by some unseen mind – but never knowing the reasoning behind your own actions, or even if you’re just some thoughtless reflex. Eww! Sounds horrid.

It sounds like Martin might have listened to the tape between Leitner and Jon, or that Jon kept them updated on that specific bit?

(MAG080) LEITNER: The books are, I think, their essences in a purer form. The other things that stalk us, from what I know of them, they have varying wills of their own. All in service of the thing they’re a part of, but not directly controlled by the mind beneath them. At least, inasmuch as these entities have something we could recognise as a mind. ARCHIVIST: Like a… a, a muscle, spasming on reflex? LEITNER: Yes, that’s actually rather good. ARCHIVIST: It would explain Michael’s identity issues. LEITNER: “Michael”? Oh… that, that’s what the Distortion calls itself these days, isn’t it?

(So… were Breekon&Hope in that category, too? And ;; it really doesn’t bode well regarding Helen’s looming presence around the Archives…)

- ………… I’m glad that Martin immediately thought about the Daedalus when it was about The Vast’s ritual attempt, and:

(MAG151) SIMON: … Do you know when the last ritual I attempted was? MARTIN: I… I don’t know, that space station? SIMON: Oh goodness no, that’s the future my boy! […] I’ve just not been doing much recently, it’s not a good time for perspective, you see. The world all feels too small, these days. I used to do a lot with religion, but it’s just not got the same conceptual scope that it used to. Honestly, I’m pinning most of my long-term hopes on space – but that’s at least a hundred years away.

Simon having Thoughts about the next one was mildly terrifying and atrociously funny: going “that’s the FUTURE” over your next planned apocalypse is…

- Updated list of rituals that aren’t a cause of concern (anymore):

* The Hunt: “The Everchase”, ongoing for at least the past two centuries, aggregating Hunters in America. Doesn’t have a culmination, revelling in the pursuit. (MAG133)

* The Vast: “The Awful Deep”, in 1853. Didn’t really work, and stopped by a Hunter. Simon Fairchild is banking on space for the next attempt. (MAG151)

* The Slaughter: “The Risen War”, should have happened centred around the Nemesis in late 1942, in the Pacific Ocean. It failed due to not meeting all the requirements – probably had a bomb planned that never came. Gertrude finally got confirmation in October 2014 that she didn’t need to worry about it; she threw out wild guesses that The Lonely or The Web could have been responsible for thwarting it. (MAG137)

* The Desolation: “The Scoured Earth”, relying on Agnes Montague, who was neutralised in the 70s when The Web tied her to Gertrude, and the chance got definitely destroyed in 2006 when Agnes began dating Jack Barnabas. Could take only a few decades before they get enough power again – or Agnes lied, and she successfully crashed their chance for this round herself. (MAG139, MAG145)

* The Buried: “The Sunken Sky”, 17th June 2008, in Bucoda, Washington (USA). Stopped by Gertrude by throwing pieces of Jan Kilbride’s Vast-touched body into the pit. (MAG097, MAG129)

* The Flesh: “The Last Feast”, October 2009, under an old Gnostic temple near Istanbul (Turkey). Stopped by Gertrude and Adelard Dekker thanks to a bunch of explosives. (MAG130)

* The Spiral: “The Great Twisting”, somewhere between October 2009 and 2011 (since Leitner told Jon that Gertrude has lost her last assistant “six years ago” in February 2017), in Sannikov Land, which does not exist somewhere in the Arctic. Stopped by Gertrude by sending Michael Shelley with a map inside of The Distortion, to fuse with it. (MAG101, MAG126)

* The Lonely: no name given, but a probable Story coming about that one. Gertrude took care of it, Peter is still cross about it. (MAG134, MAG151)

* The Dark: “The Extinguished Sun”, around the time a full solar eclipse was happening in Ny-Ålesund on 20th March 2015, three centuries after Edmond Halley was possessed by Dark water after Halley’s eclipse (which may have been a planned ritual attempt in itself). Didn’t work for unidentified reasons, might have been linked to Gertrude’s death or lack of faith, or not. (MAG025, MAG140, MAG143)

* The Stranger: “The Unknowing”, 7th August 2017, at the House of Wax in Great Yarmouth (UK). Gertrude had prepared the thwarting with Adelard’s help, stocking plastic explosives and understanding that it would take someone touched by Beholding in the middle of it, had thought of Gerry for that role though wasn’t sure he could pull it off (MAG137). The ritual was effectively stopped by Basira, Daisy, Tim and Jon using that plastic explosive (MAG118, MAG119): with a Beholding-touched person pulling the trigger in the middle of it – Tim. Previous attempt was in October 1787, at the Court Theatre of Buda, Hungary, and was interrupted by an agent of The Slaughter. (MAG116)

* The End: according to Peter, neither wants nor needs a ritual (MAG134: “it knows that it gets everything eventually, so why bother. The End manifesting would not be a new world of terror; it would be a lifeless world. Devoid of everything.”)

* The Web: according to Peter, has never tried to manifest or to get a ritual – though he didn’t sound absolutely sure about Her motives (MAG134: “The Web, I’ve never really been sure about: if I were to guess, I would say it actually prefers the world as is, playing everyone against each other, and so on.”)

We’re still lacking data about:

* ~The Corruption~, which is the Unloved Fear of this season. Gertrude’s laptop revealed that she had bought large amounts of pesticide (MAG066: “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.”) and there might have been something attempted during the Prentiss siege against the Magnus Institute on 29th July, 2016, with some of the worms forming a “ring” in the tunnels (MAG041: “Then I found the circle of worms. […] a few were still embedded in the wall providing the clear outline of a circle. The ceiling was higher here, and all told it must have been about… ten feet in diameter. Its size was not the most disconcerting thing though. Inside the circle, the stone was… wrong somehow.”)

* The Eye: “The Rite of the Watcher’s Crown”. According to Gerry Keay, it was the next one on Gertrude’s list together with ���The Unknowing”, and she had already devised a plan to stop it (MAG111: “She didn’t tell me much about that one, just that she knew how to take care of it”), which might have involved reducing the Archives to ashes (MAG080: “I assume [Elias] discovered we were planning to destroy the Archives.”, “Planning a little light arson, are we Jurgen?” / MAG092: “So. For the avoidance of any doubt. I killed Gertrude Robinson because she intended to destroy the Archives.”). Robert Smirke feared that Jonah Magnus was trying to launch it in 1867 (MAG138). Might “have” to happen in 2018, as Jon noticed the two-hundred years anniversary of the Institute’s founding (MAG127) and is experiencing a feeling of urgency (MAG137: “I feel like I’m on a deadline, like I’m running out of time somehow”).

* + The Extinction’s own birth: incoming.

(… Now that I’m thinking again about it: if it turns out that Jonah had indeed tried to launch The Watcher’s Crown under the counter, and that Gertrude didn’t know about it, and that The Eye lost its chance 150 years ago…)

- With the casual reminder that Peter is originally a captain (MAG151, Simon: “The answer to the first is simple: I lost a bet, and this is how the good captain chooses to use that.”), a dimension which has been entirely absent throughout season 4 (Peter had made nautical puns in MAG120, though), and the mention that he was probably “home-schooled”, it feels like a Lukas statement could be (finally!) coming? We also got another confirmation that The Lonely has had its chance this round, and that it had been dealt with:

(MAG134) PETER: Martin… it’s going to be decades, if not centuries, before I get another chance to bring Forsaken into this world. Your last Archivist saw to that. Honestly, if Elias hadn’t killed that woman, I’d have been very tempted. I warned him she was a danger– MARTIN: Peter! PETER: –but he’s always– MARTIN: Peter. PETER: … Anyway. The point is that, yes, obviously, if I last that long, I’m going to try again. But I’m… rather keen for the world not to end, in the meantime?

(MAG151) MARTIN: Is Peter attempting a ritual? SIMON: Not in the sense that you’re used to. Him and his family made their play a few years ago and they failed. I’m sure he’d like me to explain it, but I think he can do that one himself.

So there is definitely a story behind this, and we might get lucky enough to get it directly from Peter’s mouth. Either with Peter telling Martin (on Martin’s request, as a guarantee?), either because Jon, starved and holding a Martin-shaped grudge, will jump at his throat and rip it out of him.

(- The “Great Twisting” happened after October 2009 and Peter had brought Gertrude and Michael Shelley there… so was that before or after Gertrude had crashed their ritual?

Probably before, but. Consider the following: Peter having lost a bet to Elias or to GERTRUDE HERSELF, and consequently being forced to escort Gertrude&Michael with the promise not to throw them overboard or to feed them to The Lonely. Would have been a lovely ride.)

- I’m specifically hysterical over the way Simon described how his last ritual attempt went:

(MAG151) SIMON: It’s all a matter of perspective, you see. My patron has gifted me with… quite frankly, an absurdly long life. An appropriate gift, and one that serves to provide a certain distance from things. Of course, a paltry few centuries is nothing, really, but it’s more than most get. And even in that brief time, I’ve seen all sorts of ebbs and flows to balance off things. … Do you know when the last ritual I attempted was? MARTIN: I… I don’t know, that space station? SIMON: Oh goodness no, that’s the future my boy! But no; it was 1853! The height of the aquarium mania! All over the Empire, people were starting to understand the depths of the terrible unknown below the ocean. And I thought that was a rich vein to be tapped. Even bothered old [Aullier?] into helping me design a special diving bell for the ritual. I called it “The Awful Deep” – and between you and me, I was rather proud of myself. MARTIN: … So why didn’t it work? SIMON: Because it… wasn’t a very good idea…? The Fear wasn’t out there, not like I hoped it was. It all sort of… fizzled. Also, a Hunter broke in and destroyed the mechanism, sent me and all my sacrifices plummeting to the bottom of the ocean.

(I still haven’t managed to catch the name of whoever helped him design the diving bell, but I discovered in the process of searching for it that Edmond Halley historically designed one, which, SCREAMS. But it didn’t sound like the way they have been pronouncing “Halley” until now so, relief.) (Welp no, apparently, it’s a possible pronunciation for “Halley”, so it was him. No wonder that the Fairchilds were invited to cough money for the space station, then, if they had already collaborated in the past.)

He sounds so excited over his failure, and just casually mentioned in passing how yeah, it still killed off a lot of people in the process. (… and it presumably ruined the chance of everyone feeling Vast-affiliated to get off their own ritual for a few centuries? And just because he got his fancy idea and ran with it? HE WAS SO PROUD OF “THE AWFUL DEEP” AND IT WAS SO UNINSPIRED, SIMON PLEASE……………)

- So, with the description of the failed ritual… What was “The Maria Fairchild”, wrecked off the coast of Nova Scotia?

(MAG051, Antonia Hayley) “The old man, Simon Fairchild, had come to us claiming that he had pinpointed the location he believed his great-grandfather’s sailing yacht had been sunk almost a hundred-and-twenty years ago, and he was keen to retrieve any heirlooms or curios he could from it. The only thing interesting or… unusual about his story, was the amount of money he was willing to throw around to back it up.”

1°) 120 years ago meant, at the time of the statement, around 1890s, which is not the aforementioned 1853.

2°) Simon hadn’t yet stolen the identity of “Simon Fairchild” in the 19th century, so the boat welcoming the ritual… couldn’t have been called “Fairchild” unless coincidence?

So, was it the boat from the ritual attempt but Jonny mixed up dates? Or, given that it’s Simon and, as far as I recall, no one else has mentioned the existence of “The Maria Fairchild” existence outside of him (no mention of whether the captain had corroborated Simon’s information, Jon hadn’t tried to fact-check because those events took place in Canada), did Simon just… bullshit that whole backstory in MAG051, just because he wanted new sacrifices and/or recruits and any boat would have done the trick? [Edit: the boat was named “Maria Fairchild” in MAG051, though, they read the plaque before diving.]

- Clock in the background during this episode, so… was it in Elias’s office? We had heard the clock in MAG067, MAG092, MAG102, MAG116, MAG120 (and for the last four, it was implied to indeed take place in Elias’s personal workplace); given how it was heard in MAG126 and MAG142, I had been assuming that Martin was in Elias’s old office, though it wasn’t the case in MAG134 and MAG144 (and MAG149… may have been the Archives’ other office?).

… so, if That Clock indeed means Elias’s office. Does it mean that I’m hearing everything right and have the correct assumptions for what these sounds mean:

(MAG151) [CLICK–] [CONSTANT CLOCK TICKING IN THE BACKGROUND] [FOOTSTEPS ECHOING IN THE BACKGROUND, COMING CLOSER] [CONSTANT STATIC BEGINS] SIMON: Ouuh! Hello? [CHAIR SCRAPING] Hmm~ [RUFFLING OF CLOTHES] Hm–mh! [CHAIR SCRAPING] [SELF-SATISFIED CHUCKLE] [DRAWERS OPENED?] [MORE CHUCKLING] MARTIN: [FAR] Ah! Uh, excuse me sir, you– [IN THE ROOM] Uh, sorry, you can’t actually be here… SIMON: Oh, not to worry! I seem to be doing alright so far. [PAPER SOUNDS] MARTIN: No, I– I mean, this area is actually off-limits to the public, so– SIMON: And quite~ right~ too~! Goodness! The things they could learn here…! Turn your hair white, eh? [CHUCKLE] Best to keep them out, I say! [TURNING A PAGE, HUMMING]

Was Simon just rummaging into Elias’s desk and looking through files like that, because sIMON AHAHAHAHAH.

- Aaaand we got a date for the statement: August 14th 2018!

Elias has been in prison for more than a year, YOUHOU!!!

… Which means precisely we’re past the one-year anniversary of The Unknowing (is it why Jon immediately thought about it in MAG150?), and precisely one year and one week since Tim’s death. SOB. (This season still feels so… strange to me, on the fact that: you don’t really feel like seasons 1 to 3 technically happened. There is virtually nothing left of Sasha (understandable: no certain memories of her) nor Tim, who has barely been mentioned. In the same way that this season has been physically more centred on the inside of the Institute compared to season 3 (the exceptions being four visits to Elias, a glimpse at Melanie’s therapist, MAG141 and MAG143 about the Svalbard trip, MAG147 at Hill Top Road), it’s like time… stopped a bit, too – there is barely any future except the prospect of The Extinction and the looming threat of The Watcher’s Crown, and the only relevant past has been about… spooks, rituals, Gertrude. Tim had worked in the Archives for almost two years, and yet, it doesn’t feel like… he ever existed there…? It’s as though, with Peter’s arrival, some of the relationship maps, present or past, have been broken, too. I still wonder if it’s just like that, if Tim&Sasha are just… not meant to be relevant ever again, or if feelings are meant to come out pouring, sticky and corrosive, at some point, when there would be an argument about self-sacrifice/dying/surviving. Same with Martin’s relationship to his mother.)

So, timeline time!

MAG121 (+MAG122?): February 15th 2018 MAG123: February 17th (“Two days out of a coma, and I’m already tired.”) MAG124: February 24th~ (“It’s been a week and… Melanie’s attitude towards me hasn’t softened.”) MAG125: ? MAG126: ? MAG127: ? MAG128: 3rd March [Jon extracting Breekon’s statement] MAG129: ? MAG130: 17th~ March (“It’s been two weeks since I heard from Basira”) [Gertrude recording] MAG131: 20th March [Jon taking Jared’s statement] MAG132: 24th March (given that Jon has been in the coffin for three days, either 21 to 24th, or 24 to 27th?) MAG133: ? MAG134: ? [Martin reading a statement] MAG135: ? MAG136: at the very least two weeks after MAG132 (since Jon hasn’t seen Daisy in his dreams “for the last couple of weeks”) MAG137: ? [Gertrude recording] MAG138: ? [Martin reading a statement] MAG139: ? MAG140: one day after MAG139; end of May 2018 (“Summer solstice is the 21st of June. So we leave in a fortnight, and should arrive about a week before.”) MAG141: June 11th 2018 (two days before arrival) MAG142: June 12th 2018 [Martin taking Jess Tyrell’s complaint] MAG143: June 16th 2018 [Jon taking Manuela’s statement] MAG144: ? (same day or shortly after MAG143, since Jon&Basira are “back”) [Martin reading a statement] MAG145: “just over a week” since Jon&Basira’s return [Gertrude recording] MAG146: (July 20th 2018 or the day prior?) MAG147: July 20th 2018 MAG148: ? MAG149: ? [Martin reading a statement] MAG150: ? MAG151: August 14th 2018 [Martin taking Simon’s statement]

* … I didn’t remember that gigantic gap between Jon’s return from Norway and the Hill Top Road expedition, wow.

* 2018 carries on. Jon is aware that it’s the 200th anniversary of the Institute, and the year… is not over yet, but only four months and a half remaining.

* Jon’s last live-statement was two months ago, and that’s when he also he destroyed the Dark Sun. (And he’s remained weak and hungry since then; we… still don’t know if the symptoms will fade with time, or if… they’ll just get worse.)

* When did Jon find Martin’s tapes?

(MAG151) BASIRA: I don’t think so. Three weeks I’ve been waiting to catch sight of you, and now I find you chatting with Simon Fairchild. No, you’re not pulling your little “vanishing act” on me. […] MARTIN: You–you know about that? BASIRA: Yeah. Jon found the tapes you made for him– MARTIN: SHH–SHH-SHH!! SHHHHH!!! BASIRA: [LOWER] Found a stash of them a while ago. I made sure he shared with the class. MARTIN: Oh, there you go, then!

Basira has been trying to get her hands on Martin for “three weeks”, which means since around July 25th, so… after the Annabelle expedition. So, looks like she followed the vein of paranoia and tried to check if something else was manipulating them / keeping an eye on them?

But it doesn’t mean that that was when Jon found the tapes: was it after Annabelle? Or after their return from Norway? Or even before the trip?

- Some tiny doubt regarding sound – was that static, or a ruffling of clothes?

(MAG151) MARTIN: [SIGH] BASIRA: Who was that? MARTIN: Basira, please, I don’t have time. BASIRA: Oh no, you don’t! [OUTBURST OF STATIC?] MARTIN: Basira, let. go. BASIRA: I don’t think so.

I thiiiiiiiiiink it was static given how it was “fading” when Martin spoke but I’m not sure about it (it lacked the faint distorted sounds that we could hear in MAG149, imitating Peter’s, but then, they were preceded with static at that time. Martin is just very faint compared to Jon or Peter). The way I understand it: Basira grabbed Martin before he could disappear like he had managed to do with Georgie? And Basira wasn’t surprised about it, so it maaaaybe indeed, when she had told Jon that Martin tended to “disappear”:

(MAG127) ARCHIVIST: Do they? … W–w–who else– Did Martin say something? BASIRA: … It was a few months back. After the attack. He’d started spending time with Lukas. At least, he said he was. And I wanted answers. He kept telling me to trust him, to hear the guy out even though he still wouldn’t actually show his face. I told him he could… drop me an email or vanish me. ARCHIVIST: … Right. BASIRA: Honestly, I kind of regret not just… grabbing Martin and shaking an explanation out of him. But I didn’t want to push it. He was in a… bad place, what with the attack and his mom and everything, so I didn’t press it. Now, I try and bring it up, he just… disappears. Nothing to be done.

… she meant that in a spooky way already? It was unclear to me whether she meant that he was just leaving and refusing to talk and hiding for a while every time she tried to talk to him, or whether he was disappearing in the Peter way.

(- So, it took Basira three weeks to get her hands on Martin, which means he’s (getting?) inaccessible. Yet, Daisy had managed to find him in MAG142 (in a room with a clock in the background) and in MAG144 (… without any clock). Which means he wasn’t in the same place that second time.

… Had Daisy been Hunting him back then, to be able to find him so easily…?)

- It was minor but at the same time… I got Feelings over the fact that Basira, who had pointed out to Jon that she hadn’t managed to get a lot from Martin’s mouth, who told Jon she hadn’t wanted to “push” Martin given his circumstances, snapped this time and didn’t let it go. Wanted to hear, from Martin himself, that he wasn’t betraying them; asked/ordered him to talk to her:

(MAG151) BASIRA: That makes me worried. Makes me suspicious. [SILENCE] Tell me I’m wrong. MARTIN: [INSTANTLY] You’re wrong. BASIRA: So what’s going on, then? [SILENCE] Talk to me. MARTIN: It’s complicated.

It’s… probably worrisome from Basira – she’s been way too suspicious of everyone, she even used the same vocabulary with Martin as the one Melanie had used to depict her (… so Melanie wasn’t exaggerating):

(MAG131) MELANIE: [LONG EXHALE] Basira is, hum… Basira deals in “intel” these days, in “usable data”; assets, not “feelings”, not… “people”. Crying, shaking, nightmares, that is “better”. It doesn’t feel like it, but as far as Basira sees it, I’m not compromised anymore, and… that is “better”.

(MAG151) BASIRA: Jon may be going through a whole “we have to trust Martin” thing, but I’m not. As far as I can see, you’re either compromised, or you’re being played. And I want to know which.

But at the same time, she let him go and her “Don’t make me regret this.” was saying that she would let him do his thing. So. She finally (kind of) shook an explanation out of him, in the end, and… she knows what he’s heading for. Was it the self-sacrificing bit which convinced her of his good faith – since she… should guess that, indeed, if Jon knew about it, Jon would probably try to prevent it?

- On the other hand: Basira’s paranoia spiral is very reminiscent of Jon’s in season 2, mixed with her background as a police officer – is that… a Beholding effect at work? She was also very quick at pinpointing that the guy Martin had spoken with was Simon:

(MAG151) BASIRA: I don’t think so. Three weeks I’ve been waiting to catch sight of you, and now I find you chatting with Simon Fairchild. No, you’re not pulling your little “vanishing act” on me. MARTIN: How did you know about– BASIRA: Yeah, Jon’s not the only one who listens to statements.

We got a description of Simon in MAG051 (“He must have been pushing a hundred years old, just a tiny pink skeleton of a man”) so it could have been thanks to that… but randomly knowing stuff and claiming to have read it in a statement was also what happened with Jon:

(MAG102) ARCHIVIST: Is there anyone else who might know what it is, or– or where? Aside from Leitner, or Gerard. ELIAS: … Sorry? Gerard Keay? ARCHIVIST: Uh… yes…? ELIAS: How did you… Who, who told you he was working with Gertrude? ARCHIVIST: No-one, I–I–I just, I… I read it in one of the statements. ELIAS: I don’t think you did. ARCHIVIST: I… but… aaah… ELIAS: You just… knew it! ARCHIVIST: What, no, I, I… Th– that’s not a– ELIAS: No, no, no. No, Jon, this is good. It’s a promising development!

(Jon had already casually put Gerry in the list of people who had worked with Gertrude in MAG099; so he hadn’t noticed that he had Known about it… like that, for a while.)

So. Maybe Basira just guessed because “tiny pink skeleton of a man” + spook translates into Simon Fairchild (we listeners would also think about it), but… there is also the possibility that she’s going through a s2!Jon phase without realising, falling deeper into Beholding. ;;

- Though, AHAHAH, obviously, Basira would be extremely suspicious and cautious about the idea of “x is following a Spook’s leads (and it will end badly)”.

(MAG151) MARTIN: … It’s none of your business. BASIRA: No? ‘Cause it seems to me like you’re panning around two very dangerous people right around the time you’re cutting all of us out. […] MARTIN: Look, I don’t have time for this. I–I don’t like that I have to work with Peter any more than you do, and I didn’t know that Simon was involved until today. But I would hope that you and Jon understood the importance of preventing an apocalypse. BASIRA: [SIGH] I guess I’m just a bit burned out on the end of the world. MARTIN: Yeah, well… that’s your problem. […] BASIRA: You’re not expecting to come out of this, are you? MARTIN: … I’ll do what I have to. If I’m right… no one else needs to get hurt. [SILENCE] BASIRA: [SIGH] … Okay. You want to do whatever “grand sacrifice” you think is going to save everyone, go ahead. But you’d best be sure you’re not just playing their game. MARTIN: I know what I’m doing. BASIRA: We’ll see. [PAUSE] Don’t make me regret this.

From her perspective, Martin is… doing with Peter exactly what she had done with Elias: and when she planned to prevent an apocalypse by going to Norway with Jon, it only resulted in Jon attacking Floyd, and indeed neutralising the Dark Sun – but becoming weaker and hungry in the process. And even before that: The Unknowing had cost her Daisy a first time, and she had spent seven months trying to convince herself that, even though there was no body, Daisy was dead. I don’t think that Basira is trying to make amends of the fact that she had hidden that she was following Elias’s leads, however; it was a sore spot when Jon tried to reproach it in MAG148 and she had immediately bit back. She’s been grown quite dry and hypocritical since The Unknowing? Only able to trust herself, like she told Jon in MAG128? But, at the very least, she would know from experience that… no, following Peter/Elias’s leads only serves their plans.

- !! I had already squinted hard over Jon’s description of Martin’s situation last episode:

(MAG150) ARCHIVIST: And at least none of us is suffering alone. … Martin’s got it the worst, of course. But it still seems to be his choice. And I have to trust that he knows what he’s doing.

And INDEED, it makes a lot of sense that he had known for a while a bit More about Martin’s situation than we thought.

(MAG151) BASIRA: Yeah. Jon found the tapes you made for him– MARTIN: SHH–SHH-SHH!! SHHHHH!!! BASIRA: [LOWER] Found a stash of them a while ago. I made sure he shared with the class. MARTIN: Oh, there you go, then! BASIRA: Jon may be going through a whole “we have to trust Martin” thing, but I’m not.

So that’s why Jon knew that Martin had it bad with The Lonely, and how he knew that Martin had a plan and wasn’t just a victim or being held hostage by Peter! But that raises a few questions:

* How long has Jon known about it? Was it only recently (after Norway or after Hill Top Road) or for longer? In MAG139 already, Jon had wondered why they had been “chosen” and had asked the question about Martin specifically; he knew that Peter had plans, and was exceptionally worried about Martin, to the point of trying to use his powers to Know about Peter’s projects:

(MAG139) ARCHIVIST: Why were we chosen? Agnes was created – crafted with a specific purpose so finely tuned that even a grain of uncertainty threatened the entirety of her being. [CHORTLING] But I’m so full of doubt it feels like there’s no room for anything else, and… I’m sure Martin is the same…! […] [SIGH] I’m just worried about Martin. … Christ… Every other Avatar gets to have their feelings… burned right out of them, but me? I’ve… just got to sit in mine. … I know he said he had everything under control. I need… to trust him; whatever he’s doing with Peter, he’s… he knows what he’s doing. Probably. I just– … [VERY FAST] I need him to be okay. I just do. … If I… Knew… what his plan was; if I knew what Peter was doing; if I just– [WHISPERING] … Can I…?

… Had Jon already listened to one of the tapes, back then?

* … Which tapes has Jon listened to?

-> MAG149: Martin read a note from Gertrude (the statement-giver had been sent by Adelard, and Gertrude was aware that Adelard was calling what he suspected to be a new Fear “The Extinction”). Martin highlighted that Peter abandoning him was probably in order to increase his loneliness/Lonely-compatibity. … It………….. also contains Georgie and Martin’s exchange, and AOUCH AOUCH AOUCH if Jon heard that one……………………

-> MAG144: the other side of Martin pushing Daisy away – that he was fearing that Peter would go after her. The keyword “Extinction” mentioned multiple times, Martin exceptionally snappy at Peter and trying to get answers, Peter announcing that Martin would meet someone and get a few answers.

-> MAG142: Martin (?) had already got that one through to Basira&Melanie&Daisy by MAG146.

-> MAG138: was directly addressed to Jon at the end, though the statement mostly dealt with The Eye and Smirke’s Architecture (The Extinction was only namedropped by Martin once during the post-statement). Martin warned that Peter might be interested in the tunnels below the Institute. It also gave some information about Jonah Magnus / a potential Watcher’s Crown attempt, or project, and Jon, who had been exceptionally impatient on that subject in MAG137… just stopped mentioning it afterwards.

-> MAG134: was the one which talked in great length about The Extinction, with both Adelard’s and Peter’s inputs. It was also when Peter confirmed that The Lonely has already attempted its ritual during the current cycle, and that both The Web and The End were assumed to be uninterested in trying to pull one off. It… would make sense that Jon and the others listened to this one, given how Jon didn’t mention researching the rituals of the Web and the End (and, indeed, if he knew that they’re not a current concern… there’s no need to focus on them). Interestingly: it’s also during that post-statement that Peter and Martin discussed Jon’s journey in the coffin, and how Martin had put the tape recorders around it. So: Jon would know that Martin was still keen on protecting him.

Tl;dr Especially with MAG134 and MAG138, Jon would have had proof that, no, Martin was not abandoning them and was still… very much on their (Jon’s) side.

* And that’s also why the Team Archives seem to be on standby since Hill Top Road – they’re indeed waiting, because they’re aware that Martin is the one dealing with a current threat!

* Jon seems to be sticking to his decision from MAG117 to “trust” the assistants… but given how Tim died/sacrificed himself on him through that trust, I wonder if that’s his entire reason. Is Jon taking some comfort in the distance with Martin, because it means not having to face Martin after what Jon did to the five people he attacked in season 4…?

* Will Jon&co find another of Dekker’s statements (Peter had told Martin that he hadn’t found all of them as of MAG144) in the Archives? Or something about Dekker’s whereabouts? What happened to Dekker, why is he absolutely silent right now…

(My bets are on either “became one of the first Extinction avatars somehow”, either “got killed by Peter who ‘overreacted’ like Elias had done with Leitner”.)

* Heyheyheyhey, I was already wondering why Jon had read MAG150’s statement and if something had been influencing him – why reach the conclusion that he had to keep trusting Martin and not do anything, when the statement was demonstrating that affection and trying to reach could break through The Lonely?

1°) That’s because Jon doesn’t think, at the moment, that Martin needs to be “saved”, because he has proof (Martin’s tapes) that Martin is planning something – and not simply swallowed into something he doesn’t understand at all. (Though, yeah, we know, it will… likely backfire.)

2°) That’s also giving clues, as a safety net, to maybe manage to get Martin back in case everything goes to hell thanks to Peter.

3°) ……………………. DID JON

SPECIFICALLY

PICK

THAT STATEMENT

AS A SORT-OF-INDIRECT-MESSAGE TO MARTIN

BECAUSE IT WAS GIVING HIM AN OCCASION TO SAY “I LOVE YOU”……………

- We got Simon, absolutely chill and casually gleeful about sacrificing people and, Jon, at least in MAG146, wasn’t… fine with it (Helen’s “It would be better if you embraced it.” was telling: he currently isn’t).

That question has been at the back of my mind since we’ve begun to meet avatars: Jude quite easily butchered her first victim, Mike Crew explained that he had discovered he didn’t mind killing to reach his goal while on his quest to escape The Spiral, Simon said he “never looked back” since he embraced The Vast, Oliver said that he had understood what he had to do on the boat (meaning, shooting the captain and leading everyone to their deaths)… Did all of them rewrite their own history after the fact, presenting their pasts as more “coherent” with who they currently are, and was there a time they actually used to be more ashamed and desperate about their own actions and sacrifices; or were they already quite down with murder from the start? (Oliver is probably the most ambiguous case: he sounded absolutely hopeful and Trying His Best in MAG011, but present!Oliver talked of his past self as mostly naïve… and admitted that he had even lied through omission, back then.)

Jon mentioned a “bias of survivorship” in MAG129 regarding victims; is there one regarding avatars, too, because usually, the ones choosing these paths would already have been quite ruthless? Is that an ineluctable progression (through habit, desensitisation, repetition), or was Jon a bit of an… outlier, from the start, potentially by accident – although he had been giving the impression of being dry and cruel at the start of the series, we discovered that it… was mostly a façade, in his case, because he tends to Hide Himself quite efficiently?

- Simon’s and Arthur Nolan’s words about Rituals/Entities/their relationships to their patrons were… quite similar?

(MAG145) ARTHUR: You’ve never really had to bother with it, have you? You got him upstairs to point the way as often as not, and the rest of the time you’re just figuring out people – or things that used to be people. You never try to talk with that Eye of yours. You never had to second-guess a god. ‘Cause that’s what it comes down to, isn’t it? We feel Its joy and Its… anger; It warps us, and changes us, and feeds on us, though not in the ways we expect. The one thing It never does is just… tell us what to do. It seeds us with this… aching, impossible desire to change the world, to bring It to us. Then, It leaves us to guess and bicker and fight over how the hell you can actually do it. … If it’s possible. Sometimes, I think They understand us as… little as we understand Them. We don’t think like They do. GERTRUDE: I’m not actually convinced they “think” at all. ARTHUR: You might be right. But Agnes did. That’s the thing about an… “incarnation”, isn’t it? […] Find me one so-called “expert” on all of this who didn’t end up regretting all of it! … That’s the trouble with overthinking any of this: you ignore your gut. And to my mind, that’s the only part any of Them Beyond… actually care about. They don’t give a toss about your “rules”, or “systems”. They only care about what feels right, what freezes your belly with terror.

(MAG151) SIMON: The thing you have to remember is that no one actually knows how these things work. Not really. There’s always been plenty of theories, of course, and over a century or two you do start to get an intuitive feel for it, but… there’s really no hard and fast “rules”. The Powers, or Entities, or Fears, or whatever you want to call them, are bound up in… emotion. In feeling. How they exist, what they can do, how they interact with the world, it… it all makes about as much logical sense as a nightmare. Which is to say, there is a certain sort of emotional logic to it all. Things feel like they flow together in a way that makes sense, but if you try to stop and… do the maths, then it all comes apart. At least, in my experience. “When is a new Power born?” Well; when does it feel like its birth would be right? When enough creatures suffer a terror of it that feels distinct, that feels truly its own… then it would probably feel right for it to emerge into its own. Or perhaps there’s a ritual, if it feels right to enact some sort of birthing ceremony, some… apocalyptic midwifery. […] MARTIN: You make it sound like the… the Entities don’t even know that they’re doing. SIMON: I have no idea if they’re doing anything at all – if they’re even capable of “doing” things. I know that most of their servants are simply doing their best to interpret and serve something that is almost definitively inconceivable. MARTIN: You can’t be serious…! SIMON: Alright. Let’s… try one of those analogies Peter finds so annoying. Hum… imagine you are deaf. But every night, you hear the most beautiful music in yours dreams. And your every waking thought is consumed by trying to reproduce that music. Oh! You’re mute, as well, in this analogy, or at least you can’t sing. And you need to invent the idea of a musical instrument from scratch. Everyone else is also deaf, and mute, and, hum… MARTIN: Yes, yes, I think I get it. SIMON: Yes, well, the point is, most of us are trying so desperately to recreate our own dream symphony that… we bring an awful lot of our own baggage into the mix. […] And honestly, the idea that this is all some… “grand cosmic joke”, thousands of us running around spreading horror and sabotaging each other pointlessly while these impossible, unknowable things just lurk out there, feeding off the misery we cause… [INHALE] I find that interpretation quite appealing…! MARTIN: … “But”? SIMON: I still hear the music in my dreams.

………………. but it raises, more and more, the question: Jon, what music do you hear in your own dreams? (Jon was especially worrisome in MAG145’s post-statement…)

At least, Jon is currently accepting the cold turkey (or at least, as far as we know, he hasn’t wrestled Basira&Daisy&Melanie to try to get out to go hunt) but… how long can it even go on…

- Reassuring point: Team Archives has actually been communicating in the tapes’ backs, since Jon shared his discoveries with the others and they all know about The Extinction. When Jon was describing their less-than-ideal-but-we’re-trying-to-face-Peter’s-effects in MAG150, it had sounded absolutely cold but… there is a bit more substance to it, then (they’re indeed sharing, and hiding from the tapes).

Good: Martin still Very Aware that Peter is bad, because the fact that he was growing accustomed to his presence / was desperate to the point of almost-missing-Peter-as-he-was-the-last-person-he-could-interact-with had me a bit worried.

(MAG142) MARTIN: [SIGH] Th–the worst part is I don’t even want to talk to him about it. I’m just… [SIGH] I suppose I’m just getting comfortable with the distance. [SIGH] Cut off. [DRY CHUCKLE] “Lonely”. [INHALE] Mind you, Peter’s not wrong. It really is easier than actually just trying to communicate with people.

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

(MAG151) MARTIN: Look, I don’t have time for this. I–I don’t like that I have to work with Peter any more than you do, and I didn’t know that Simon was involved until today. But I would hope that you and Jon understood the importance of preventing an apocalypse. […] Peter’s the one with the plan, and… it needs me to be alone. BASIRA: And you don’t see anything suspicious about that? MARTIN: Of course I do! But it… might be the only way and… [INHALE] So far, at least, he’s been honest with me. Awful, but… honest. I need to do this. For everyone.

Bad: HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH, super worried that Basira and Martin, although they (… naïvely?!) tried to keep quiet, explicitly discussed what Martin was doing behind Peter’s back……………….

(MAG151) MARTIN: It’s complicated. BASIRA: What? They’re just here out of the goodness of their hearts? Helping you save the world from Extinction? MARTIN: You–you know about that? BASIRA: Yeah. Jon found the tapes you made for him– MARTIN: SHH–SHH-SHH!! SHHHHH!!! BASIRA: [LOWER] Found a stash of them a while ago. I made sure he shared with the class. MARTIN: Oh, there you go, then!

mARTIN, BABE??? I don’t think that trying to keep your voices low helped in any way?! If Peter was there eavesdropping, then he’s still there and listening. If whatever-is-listening-through-the-tape-recorders didn’t already know already that Martin had a stash of tapes, and that Jon&co had listened to them already, then It knows now. If Elias was Watching you two and is planning to tell Peter… then he will be able to do it anyway.

And even: Elias called Martin out on being a manipulator back in MAG138; he… probably saw Martin stashing the tapes, Jon discovering them and sharing them with the others? So if he’s in this with Peter… he’ll probably tell him, or has told him already. Which. Shit. The fact that Martin is still trying to hide his double-agenda sounds more and more useless…?

I’m a bit afraid that Martin has been trying what worked with Elias with Peter: staying close, focusing on their shared goals (stopping The Unknowing / The Extinction), roughly following the path he’s assigned (reading statements, staying at the Institute while he “officially” wanted to go with the others / agreeing to cut ties with the others) while showing his discontentment for good measure… and planning to backstab when he’d find a weakness. But Peter is not Elias (and we’re not even sure that Elias wasn’t counting on the others to take him down and send him to prison, given how it had been “easy” for Melanie to find evidence against him…); Gerry had pointed out to Jon that the Lukases were “very good” at pushing people “in the right direction” amongst the family.

- Simon technically avoided to answer one of Martin’s Big Questions:

(MAG151) MARTIN: … Fine. So why me? What’s his plan? Why not get the others involved? SIMON: He is what he is, Martin. For a creature of The Lonely, the urge is always to isolate; never to communicate or connect. I suspect that’s why he’s so keen on wagers: it allows him a framework for cooperation that doesn’t risk any sort of intimacy. As for his plan… [INHALE] I don’t know the details. But I believe there’s something in the Institute that he thinks can help his cause. MARTIN: … And he needs me to use it. SIMON: Presumably – from what he said, it must be “powerfully aligned to The Watcher”. If he wishes to use it, it would need someone already touched by The Eye. And if he wants to control that someone… MARTIN: They need to serve The Lonely.

Why Martin? Peter had highlighted that Martin was already Lonely-compatible, and Elias acknowledged that he had basically given Martin to him:

(MAG134) MARTIN: Mm–okay. Okay, so, so let’s say, for now, that I believe you. Hypothetically. Wh–what does this have to do with me? PETER: [BREATHES] I’m still working out some of the kinks. But I believe I have a plan. However, it requires this place, and it requires someone touched by The Beholding. Elias was, perhaps unsurprisingly, unwilling to help. MARTIN: And you thought that since I’m so lonely already, I’d be ideal. PETER: Yes!

(MAG138) MARTIN: So why haven’t you helped him?! […] ELIAS: Anyway, I have helped him. I’ve given him control of the Institute, I’ve provided him with–   MARTIN: Me? ELIAS: –any manpower he might require.

Which, indeed, we saw happening in MAG108:

(MAG108) MARTIN: Oh. You’re… one of them, aren’t you. A… a Lukas. PETER: Yes, that’s– Peter. Pleased to meet you. Now, how did you know that? MARTIN: I, I was just reading? Jon left some notes, and… PETER: Ah, I see. I’m sorry to have disturbed you. It’s one of Elias’s little jokes. MARTIN: I don– What? PETER: Did he suggest you record a statement today? One that mentioned me? MARTIN: … yeah? Sssort of? I mean… not you specifically, but… PETER: I have a meeting with him today. He suggested… I’m sure he’s watching from his office, grinning from ear to ear. MARTIN: I… don’t… PETER: I almost thought he genuinely wanted me to meet the team! Oh well. MARTIN: I’m really sorry, I… I don’t actually…

So, Elias had orchestrated Martin’s and Peter’s meeting, knew that Martin would catch Peter’s interest, Peter is indeed all set on Martin helping/being used for his plan against The Extinction – but why Martin specifically? There was a large pool of Beholding-trapped assistants at the time of MAG108: Basira was around (though she was together with Daisy so that was probably making her lose Lonely points); Melanie had already read two statements and Elias had just pointed out how her life was “indeed shockingly absent of any meaningful connections. That’s actually one of the reasons I chose you for this job” (MAG106; though Elias also pulverised her in that episode and Martin&Basira witnessed how she was having a bad time afterwards); Tim… had been shown to be particularly impacted by Sasha’s death, had just described how his brother had died a few years ago, had been dangerously antagonising towards Elias (MAG104), and had decided to turn his back on everyone in the Archives to go it solo. Martin indeed sounded like a logical choice, but there were still other options – so what was the tipping argument to throw Martin at Peter? Was it because Elias had never been fond of Martin in the first place (he tended to treat him with casual contempt in MAG060 and MAG084)? Was it because Martin’s ~hopeless crush~ and situation with his mother made him especially isolated/lonely? Was it because Martin was the most “actively” Beholding amongst the assistants in the statements-reading area? That was the reason why Elias had jumped on the idea of keeping him at the Institute when the others were planning the trip for The Unknowing:

(MAG116) MARTIN: No, no, I can help, I’ve been reading the statements! ELIAS: … Quite right, er, probably best he does stay behind. BASIRA: What, so you have a backup if Jon doesn’t make it? ELIAS: I’m sure that won’t be necessary.

(-> Elias didn’t confirm that he was planning to use Martin as a back-up Archivist, but the fact that he had read statements was a Super Effective argument, so it… mattered, in one way or another.)

(I think it’s very likely, in canon, that Martin’s lineage is absolutely unspooky, and that his family story is a “normal” family drama, as painful and tragic and heart-breaking as it is already? But I’m also very very very onboard with the Lukas!Martin theory and won’t give up on it as long as I don’t have Martin’s birth certificate and a dozen blood-testing results from different labs to prove that his father wasn’t a runaway Lukas, so:

(MAG151) MARTIN: …. Who are you? Did Peter send you? SIMON: Ah, you must be Martin? Goodness! He was not exaggerating. MARTIN: What’s that supposed to mean? SIMON: Oh, come now, don’t be like that.

… What was that “He was not exaggerating” referring to? Was it to Martin’s behaviour (the fact he was a bit nagging, or trying to keep people away from dangerous areas, or quickly understanding that this old man could be acquainted with Peter)? Or was it about Martin’s physical appearance – Martin, who is apparently the spitting image of his father…?)

(Other possibility: Simon went “He was not exaggerating” because Martin, who wasn’t canonically “the hot one” in MAG052 (that was Tim.), is actually the “ASTOUNDINGLY AND INCREDIBLY hot one” in the team.)

- I’m impressed at how Martin has learned to navigate amongst the Fears architecture on his own? Even in season 3, he had a lot of trouble with the powers and recurring figures:

(MAG098) MARTIN: [SIGH] I wish John kept better organised notes because I know he’s mentioned someone called Maxwell Rayner, but I cannot find much in the way of any info–

Back then, “Maxwell Rayner” shouldn’t have been such a vague name for Martin, given how he had participated in the researches around Hither Green in MAG025 and the Montauk case in MAG052. But here, Martin immediately identified “Simon Fairchild” as The One:

(MAG151) SIMON: Oh, come now, don’t be like that. [INHALE] Let’s start over. Simon – Simon Fairchild. Peter asked me to look in on you and… have a small chat. Well! A big chat, really. Answer all those… nagging questions. MARTIN: Simon Fairchild. [PAUSE] [NERVOUS CHUCKLE] Wait, “Simon Fairchild” as in… SIMON: As in “all those people who said I did horrible things to them and their loved ones”? Yes. They have been in, haven’t they? I’d hate to think I’m underrepresented in here, not when Peter tells me that that… “bone” fellow has at least half a dozen. MARTIN: N–no, no, [NERVOUS CHUCKLE], not… not at all. Y–you’ve sent plenty of people our way.

(It’s still… something, that avatars are both looking down at The Eye for being a “bottom feeder” or for robbing part of the fear, but at the same time, are preoccupied by the amount of statements mentioning them, as if they were competing about it. (… why are they all looking down on Jared.)) Martin was able to be exceptionally diplomatic (mix of honesty and not-pissing-off-something-that-could-wreck-you), to immediately ask good and relevant questions although he hadn’t been warned that he would encounter Simon right now, cautious enough to check that there wouldn’t be any “trick” in the fact he was allowed to ask questions:

(MAG151) MARTIN: And you do it? Why? SIMON: Is that your first question? MARTIN: … Is there a limit? SIMON: Only until I get bored. And that does tend to come more quickly, these days. MARTIN: O–okay, okay, then sure, sure. First question, then: “why are you helping Peter?” D–don’t you serve different… you know… Fears? […] How are new powers born? SIMON: Hm… don’t know! MARTIN: How soon could it attempt its ritual? SIMON: No clue! MARTIN: How do we stop it? SIMON: Can’t help you! MARTIN: [THROUGH GRITTED TEETH] Could you, at least, try? […] And how close is it, do you think? […] You don’t sound worried. […] And let me guess – you think he can’t see the “big picture”? […] … So why didn’t it work? […] Assuming The Extinction doesn’t derail everything…! SIMON: Which is why… I’m happy helping Peter. But! If it does: then I’ll either be dead, which will be fine, or… I’ll adjust. MARTIN: It doesn’t scare you? […] So what do you do, then, if, if the world is pointless and your god is so weak right now? […] I thought you said that the maths doesn’t work. SIMON: Oh, you are a quick one! […] MARTIN: … What about the monsters? […] So– [EXHALE] So if no one’s ever actually communicated with their patron, how do you know they even want rituals? H–h–how does anyone know if they could ever even work?! SIMON: We don’t. MARTIN: [INCREDULOUS SCOFF] SIMON: And honestly, the idea that this is all some… “grand cosmic joke”, thousands of us running around spreading horror and sabotaging each other pointlessly while these impossible, unknowable things just lurk out there, feeding off the misery we cause… [INHALE] I find that interpretation quite appealing…! MARTIN: … “But”? SIMON: I still hear the music in my dreams. MARTIN: Hm. [SILENCE] Who are you? No, no: who were you? […] You said you were here to answer my questions for Peter, but so far you’ve told me basically nothing of any use. SIMON: The big answers are rarely helpful. MARTIN: Then let’s try some smaller ones. Is Peter attempting a ritual? SIMON: Not in the sense that you’re used to. Him and his family made their play a few years ago and they failed. I’m sure he’d like me to explain it, but I think he can do that one himself. MARTIN: How honest has he been with me? SIMON: About which part? MARTIN: Protecting the others. […] … How do you feel about this? SIMON: You might need to be a tad more specific. MARTIN: All of it. Peter’s plan, The Extinction, me…

All of his questions were excellent ones: he was able to keep in mind the data Simon was providing, he was extending questions to his current situation (outside of The Extinction itself), he was able to use his snark and sass to squeeze more answers and knowledge out of Simon, he was able to ask for contextualisation and keep in mind how Powers tend to oppose each other. Simon was absolutely willing to talk but Martin honestly made the best use of it – I found the way he led the interview even more impressive than the way Jon had dealt with Gerry? And asking questions is supposed to be Jon’s thing as The Archivist. (Well. Getting answers, whatever his questions are, technically, but.)

When pressed, Martin was also able to find the best possible answer to Simon’s jovial threat:

(MAG151) SIMON: And I never looked back. I tried to share it with others, not just as sacrifices; but they often find it difficult to keep up with the, hum… velocity I tend to live at. They tend to get left behind, and I suppose it doesn’t help that I can’t… bring myself to see any of them as anything other than trivial. […] I’d say “anytime”, but honestly, if you see me again… I may just throw you off something for a joke. How do you feel about… rollercoasters? MARTIN: Uh… Neutral. SIMON: Oh… [CHAIR SCRAPING] You’re no fun.

That was the only safe possible answer: if Martin was positive about it, it would mean being a potential recruit; if he was showing discomfort, that would make him a sacrifice. And Martin was able to improvise the it, although he had been known as The Assistant Of Many Fears:

(MAG015) ARCHIVIST: I sent Tim to check the details – Martin declined to help with this investigation as he’s “a bit claustrophobic” […].

(MAG022) MARTIN: The light from the window behind me cast it pretty clearly on the floor, and looking at it I swear the edges seemed to move. It was like a… like a, like an undulation, like, like they were being shifted by something. I mean… look, I know you hate the word, but it was really… spooky. […] I think I might have… lost my mind a bit, then. It all… feels very… strange, blurry. I–I remember stamping and stamping as-as more made their way under my doorway. I-I remember grabbing every towel, sock, bit of fabric scrap that I could find, stuffing them under the door, into the cracks around the window.

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

(MAG040) MARTIN: Sorry. ARCHIVIST: Ah, it’s fine. I just… I only need from when you got separated. From when you got lost in the tunnels. MARTIN: No, I mean… I’m sorry I left you. ARCHIVIST: … Oh Martin. MARTIN: [TEARFUL] It was an accident. I thought you two were with me! I mean, the worms came at us, and they were so much faster, and then there was the gas, and the running, and I just… I, I thought you were right behind me. But when I turned round, you were gone. You were both gone. It was an accident.

(MAG072) ARCHIVIST: I’ve had Martin looking into the case of John Haan, though it’s slow going as whenever there’s a picture he ends up needing to take a breath of fresh air.

(MAG108) MARTIN: I’m really sorry, I… I don't actually… PETER: Do I scare you Martin? MARTIN:  Yes…! PETER: Hm. Probably for the best.

(MAG117) MARTIN: I… I’m scared, I guess. No, wait– No! No, I mean– uh… Oh, I don’t want that to be my last message, the thing that defines me. “Martin Blackwood: he was always scared, then he died. The end.” I don’t want that. … But it’s true, isn’t it? I mean, if you’re right, if these things out there are eating our fears, then I’m a… a luxury smörgåsbord, I suppose. I’m just afraid all the time! I know, I know, I’m not gonna die, I’m not even going to be on the incredibly dangerous mission. Me and Melanie, well… Well, I don’t think “death” is really the worry, it’s just… [SIGH] It feels like an ending? Or… something. Like nothing can go back to normal after this. […] I need them to be safe. I need him to be okay. … So–sorry, hum. I–I’m not afraid for me, though. Isn’t that weird…? I mean, it’s not like I’m going to be safe, like, my plan’s not dangerous but it’s… it’s mine? These last couple of years, I’ve always been... running, always hiding, caught in someone else’s trap, but… but now it’s my trap. And, well. I think it will work.

From Martin who was regularly presented as incompetent back in season 1 (to the point of surprising Jon when demonstrating otherwise during the worms crisis) and who was too honest for his own good when he met Peter, to Martin who is able to swim through the Fears politics, to ask good questions, to snap and squirm and get out of Simon’s grasp… He has learned to deal with the spooks quite efficiently, huh?

- In Jon’s tracks, Martin has been slowly moving forwards when it came to the Archival work. Pushed by Elias, he was the first one of the assistants to read statements aloud and “ritually” starting season 3, and, although he was aware that they were hard on him, he was the only one who kept reading them – Tim tried once and immediately gave up in MAG086; Melanie read two statements but stopped after MAG106’s (and, given her declaration that she would stop feeding The Eye in MAG150, she’s not planning to go back to it); Basira read one in MAG112 and never tried again (and her distaste of the tape recorders and her unwillingness to stay in the room while Jon is recording in season 4 seem to point out that she doesn’t plan on doing it again either).

(MAG084) MARTIN: [RAGGED BREATHING AS HE REGAINS HIS COMPOSURE] Well, I, er… I think that was okay. Er, yeah. To anyone listening, sorry about the change of tone. Jon, the, uh, Head Archivist is… absent, so I’ll be trying to fill in as best as I can. Um. Maybe Tim as well, if he… if he feels like it. It, it doesn’t matter, I suppose. Just as long as it gets done.

(MAG095) MARTIN: S–s–statement… done. [HEAVY BREATHING & TREMBLING AS MARTIN STEADIES HIMSELF] I don’t like recording these. There. I–I said it. I’m sorry whoever’s listening to this, I know it’s unprofessional, but they f… I don’t like it. I guess we’re past professionalism now. Probably. I don’t even know why I’m still doing them, since Jon’s back now.

(MAG098) MARTIN: I, um, I think I might need to sit down. Oh. Yeah, I am. Right. I don’t, uh, I’m not really sure if these are actually getting easier or harder. I mean I don’t feel–

(MAG108) MARTIN: Statement end. [LOW VOICE] That wasn’t so bad? [BREATHES] Hum, not sure there is anything to say about this one.

(Starting MAG108, it became easier for him: was it because it was a Lonely one, then a Web one? Was it because Jon told him he was okay with Martin continuing to read them in MAG102?)

I’m still eyeing the ways Jon is completing his own set of Fears through live-statements/nightmares/scars/encounters with direct manifestations of the Powers, but Martin, in his own way, has also been completing his own set of Fears through his written&live-statements:

* The Corruption (MAG084, Adrian Weiss) * The Buried (MAG088, Enrique MacMillan) * The Flesh (MAG090, Ross Davenport) * The Slaughter (MAG095, Luca Moretti) * The Dark (MAG098, Doctor Algernon Moss) * The Desolation (MAG100, Lynne Hammond’s (messy) live-statement) * The Stranger (MAG104, Tim Stocker’s live-statement) * The Lonely (MAG108, Adonis Biros) * The Web (MAG110, Alexia Crawley) * The Extinction (MAG134, Adelard Dekker; MAG144, Gary Boylan; MAG149, Judith O’Neill) * The Eye (MAG138, Robert Smirke; MAG142, Jess Tyrell’s live-statement/complaint) * The Vast (MAG151, Simon Fairchild’s live-statement)

He’s missing The End, The Hunt and The Spiral at the moment (although he experienced the latter when Tim and him were trapped in Michael’s corridor in MAG079-MAG080) but… he has already covered almost all of them…?

The previous time we had seen Martin (MAG149) highlighted that he was progressing with The Lonely, given how he disappeared on Georgie. Although Simon pointed out that Martin was fitting with his own conception of The Lonely in MAG151, we also got… clear indication that Martin is still very much aligned to Beholding:

(MAG151) MARTIN: Hm. [SILENCE] Who are you? No, no: who were you? SIMON: Originally? No one you would have heard of; no… great historical figure or atrocity-monger. I’ve been “Simon Fairchild” about, um… eighty or ninety years, maybe? […] Hm! No wonder I’m so sympathetic to The Lonely. You know: this really is a place for self-discovery, isn’t it? [CHUCKLE] “Statement ends”, I suppose! MARTIN: Uh… I’m sorry? SIMON: Oh! Nothing, just my own hubris. I should have known. When I came here, I said to myself: “Simon,” I said, “you’re going to answer this young man’s questions, but you’re not going to give The Watcher a statement. You’re better than that.” But it’s a hard one to resist, isn’t it? You get in the flow of talking about yourself, and it all just… tumbles out. MARTIN: Mm, does seem like it. SIMON: [CHUCKLING] And this has been fun! [INHALE] Now. [CHAIR SCRAPING] If we’re about done– MARTIN: We’re not. Sit back down. SIMON: Boooold~ [CHUCKLE] [CHAIR SCRAPING] I like it. MARTIN: You said you were here to answer my questions for Peter, but so far you’ve told me basically nothing of any use.

Martin’s shortness and impatience reminded me of Jon’s when he was trying to get answers from Jude Perry (MAG089: “You don’t even know what this is about, do you?” “So tell me!” “An Archivist pleading for knowledge. That, oh that is satisfying to see.” “Look, if you’re just… You’re just about my only lead, and if you’re… Just kill me, alright? If it’s so easy? If you’re not going to tell me anything worth my time.” “Now you’re sounding like an Archivist.”), but more importantly, it seems like Martin was used as a channel for the Institute to get Simon’s live-statement?

It’s certainly not going in-depths like Jon’s, but Simon still identified it as something he hadn’t been planning on giving and as, specifically, a statement. And that’s the third time something like this happens with Martin: he got Tim to tell him his story in MAG104, he managed to get Jess Tyrell’s complaint in MAG142 (although it was explicitly less complete than with Jon: “… And I start to tell him… everything. About the job, about the collapse, ab–about the hand… And more than I told you, even”). I’m guessing that it’s mostly thanks to the Institute’s effect, and I doubt that Martin could manage to get a statement outside like Jon did starting MAG089, but it has still happened thrice.

So. The Lonely got Martin, but he’s still very much Beholding? Peter’s goal relied on Martin becoming able to use two powers (MAG126: “The sort of power you’re going to need relies on your–” “Obedience.” “Isolation. It needs to be you, Martin. You’re the only one who could possibly balance between the two.”), and Simon confirmed that it required The Eye and The Lonely, so… Martin is getting there. Or is already there.

(- Obligatory Honorary Web-sounding Reminder (BECAUSE YES, I WON’T GIVE UP ON THAT EITHER AS LONG AS WE DON’T HOLLOW MARTIN OUT AND CONFIRM THAT HE’S NOT FULL OF SPIDERS) (… wait no, that’s a bad idea, no, don’t hollow Martin out, Jonny–) that:

(MAG138) MARTIN: … What? [HUFF] That’s it? No, no monologue, no mindgames? You love manipulating people! ELIAS: That makes two of us. MARTIN: [HUFF]

Which Martin masterfully demonstrated when he made Elias want to keep him at the Institute during The Unknowing, when he made Elias use his powers on him and lower his attention while Melanie was stealing stuff in his office, when he threw Elias in jail, and which Martin is demonstrating again by… finding loopholes in his agreement with Peter to still send information to the others. And Basira’s suspicion:

(MAG151) MARTIN: … I didn’t know Jon had listened to them already! BASIRA: Well, he has. He seems to think you’ll come to him when you need him. I think you’re feeding him what he needs to hear so he doesn’t bother you. MARTIN: Look, I don’t have time for this.

… sounded very very Web-y to me? So, is that paranoia or is that well-founded.

Also, it’s Aza’s pet-theory so, updating the list:

(MAG104) MARTIN: Elias seems to think that he’s the best chance that we have to stop them. TIM: And what? I’m supposed to just trust Elias now? MARTIN: Please. TIM: [EXHALE] Fine. Fine. I’ll tell him in person, when he gets back from… wherever it is that he’s vanished to.

(MAG118) MARTIN: Melanie. Melanie, please. MELANIE: … Alright. Let’s get these somewhere safe.

(MAG129) MARTIN: Stop. Stop, please, I–I shouldn’t know any of this, I… [PACKING UP] I–I–I really need to go, I–I’m… ARCHIVIST: Right. … right. MARTIN: Please, stop finding me.

(MAG142) MARTIN: Just… just tell me what happened. Hum, please. I–I won’t judge. [SILENCE] WOMAN: Alright.

(MAG151) MARTIN: Yeah… [PAUSE] Don’t… tell Jon. [SILENCE] Please. BASIRA: Fine.

… people’s tendency to do exactly what Martin Asked after he has said “Please”, although they were initially reluctant.

(Counterexamples: “just everyone please, make it back home…?” in MAG117 didn’t work, and neither did all his desperate “Please” to Jon in the season 4 trailer, but.))

- HEY MARTIN??

(MAG151) MARTIN: Look, I don’t have time for this. I–I don’t like that I have to work with Peter any more than you do, and I didn’t know that Simon was involved until today. But I would hope that you and Jon understood the importance of preventing an apocalypse.

DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH YOU’RE SOUNDING LIKE ELIAS

(MAG102) ELIAS: I should have thought preventing the horrific transformation of our world is not solely my concern!

(MAG135) ELIAS: I rather feel the real shame would be letting the entire world fall into Darkness because of a single person’s wounded pride. Detective. The stakes are far too high for that kind of… indulgence.

BECAUSE YOU ARE.

- This season, we saw Jon fumbling around, and only getting “victories” through personal accomplishments: saving Melanie from the bullet, saving Daisy from the coffin – and even then, those were tainted with the reveal that they had been followed by Jon attacking people from their statements right after, to feed/heal/feel good. Whenever Jon tried to meddle with bigger spooks, it resulted in disaster: trying to Know Peter’s plan hurt him in MAG139 (and that’s probably why he was so “ravenous” against Jess Tyrell?); going to Norway made him encounter Floyd and take his statement; the journey didn’t even serve the expected purpose – sure, he destroyed the Dark Sun, but it wasn’t an active threat and the act was probably the origin of his current “hunger” (as Jon has since then mentioned multiple times having not fully recovered from it). Given how Elias made sure that Basira would leave Jon alone with the coffin because he wanted Jon to develop his powers, and then sent them to Norway (and then claimed that it had been a “miscalculation”), it’s more than likely that they’ve just… been playing his game all through this season. That, or Elias indeed didn’t have any plan and constantly improvised and only pretended to be in control. The end result is still: Jon managed to save both Melanie and Daisy from the spooks, but hurt (and is still hurting) five more people in the process – and we heard Jess Tyrell, Jon didn’t “just” plague them with a few bad dreams, he directly and personally shattered them and their lives.

In parallel, Martin has been cutting his own (lonely) path, is getting more personally involved with spooks, and might be becoming our “protagonist” of the season: getting the “big” picture, receiving the input of other avatars (Peter, Simon) about the Fears architecture and the way they work, getting involved in active and current threats… So, what will be the downside to his actions – who will he hurt, outside of himself…? What is Peter expecting regarding his “progress” if, at this point already, his presence is enough to get an old avatar to give his statement, and if he is able to disappear on someone as he did with Georgie, what more could he need? Is it to simply grow more powerful in the Lonely area? … Because, as we saw with all the avatars, Jon included: using powers or simply staying alive comes hand in hand with sacrificing people. Martin told Basira that his current actions were motivated by the idea that “no one else needs to get hurt”, and I’m really afraid that he hasn’t factored in the idea that no, if some power is required, it will be from other innocents. And I don’t trust Peter to not put Martin in front of that fact at the last moment, when he would have no time to duly consider whether to sacrifice people or let The Extinction emerge completely…?

(…………… That, or Peter already has leverage to crush Martin last minute? Timeline-wise, Martin began to work with Peter two months after his mother’s death but. I’m still a bit afraid that The Lonely may have been involved in that one, to further cut Martin off from anything or anyone…………………)

- One of our current new mysteries is the thing Peter is planning to use:

(MAG151) MARTIN: Is Peter attempting a ritual? SIMON: Not in the sense that you’re used to. Him and his family made their play a few years ago and they failed. I’m sure he’d like me to explain it, but I think he can do that one himself. […] As for his plan… [INHALE] I don’t know the details. But I believe there’s something in the Institute that he thinks can help his cause. MARTIN: … And he needs me to use it. SIMON: Presumably – from what he said, it must be “powerfully aligned to The Watcher”. If he wishes to use it, it would need someone already touched by The Eye. And if he wants to control that someone… MARTIN: They need to serve The Lonely.

That’s technically only confirming what Peter had said in MAG134 (and Elias confirmed in MAG138, regarding the part where he hadn’t been willing to help):

(MAG134) PETER: [BREATHES] I’m still working out some of the kinks. But I believe I have a plan. However, it requires this place, and it requires someone touched by The Beholding. Elias was, perhaps unsurprisingly, unwilling to help. MARTIN: And you thought that since I’m so lonely already, I’d be ideal. PETER: Yes! MARTIN: You see, the thing is, Peter, I’m still not all that keen on being part of any ritual you set up. You know, in fact, if I were to be blunt, I’d say that would be suicidally stupid. PETER: Martin… it’s going to be decades, if not centuries, before I get another chance to bring Forsaken into this world. Your last Archivist saw to that.

… except for the part where it’s presented as a “ritual”: Peter denied that it was one, or changed the subject to mention that it wasn’t The Lonely’s; Simon… is less categoric – it’s not The Lonely’s ritual, but it’s kind-of-a-ritual still, and it requires… something.

* The Watcher’s Crown? The way Robert Smirke had worded it, it sounded like a physical, tangible item (MAG138: “I warn you again that if you have any remaining ambitions to use our work, to try and wear The Watcher’s Crown, you must abandon them! Not simply for the sake of your own soul, but for that of the world!”).

* Barnabas Bennett’s bones? They’re technically a link between Beholding and The Lonely, Elias pointed out that they were in his office (“[Jonah Magnus] retrieved those bones sadly enough when the time came. Bones that you can still find in my office, if you know where to look.”, MAG092), and we haven’t heard anything more about them since.

* Jon himself…? As he has proven with the Dark Sun (and potentially Breekon): he can be lethal towards other powers, and The Hive had been very angry towards the Institute because of how the Eye was… weakening? it through its study (MAG032, Jane Prentiss: “You can see it and log it and note its every detail but you can never understand it. You rob it of its fear even though your weak words have no right to do so.”). We’ve seen all through season 4 that Jon was affected by Martin’s absence – Martin has definitely grown to become a weak spot of his. But, aouch: if Martin was mostly meant to give Jon his Lonely scar, or to be used against Jon to stop The Extinction… it would be awfully nasty for Martin, who spent the last 8 months selling himself in the hope of protecting Basira&Melanie + now Jon (“… and Daisy I guess”). (Though: it would have required for Elias and/or Peter to know/guess that Jon’s weak spot would be Martin and… I have trouble picturing Elias going for it back in season 3 already? And from Peter, it would require taking into account the connections and affections of people; can he… even… do that…)

* The tunnels under the Institute? They’ve been thematically important since Jon&co discovered them at the end of season 1, they’re remnants of the Millbank prison (with the Panopticon sounding… very much like a Beholding project – maybe what powered the Institute in the first place? Was “the Fear/feeling of being watched” originally from the prisoners who couldn’t know when they were actually seen?), Robert Smirke was involved in their construction, even Jurgen Leitner (who had lived down there for years) wasn’t absolutely sure of the way they worked, Elias agreed to allow Jon to keep exploring them when he used… very Beholding-aligned arguments (“I need to know!”, MAG067); there is still the mystery of the “ring” of worms found by Tim and then Jon… and Martin was suspecting that Peter was mainly interested in them:

(MAG138) MARTIN: I don’t know what he’s talking about when he mentions Millbank. The old prison, I guess? Tim said the tunnels under the Institute were all that was left of it, but… Jon said he’d checked them pretty thoroughly. [SILENCE] [SIGH] I’m not the one who knows all about this stuff…! I wish– … No. No, it’s fine, I’m… fine, I… [EXHALE] I can do this. I don’t know what Peter’s planning, but my-my guess is that it might involve something below the Institute.

The tunnels have been… there, in season 4, too: it’s where Basira&Melanie took shelter, and Basira has been cautious about them (MAG125, Basira: “Got a camp bed at the other end, near the tunnels. I like to keep an eye on them.”); it’s where Jon and Basira operated on Melanie; judging from the sounds, it’s where Helen’s door has occasionally been (MAG131).

- Aaaaaaaaaand Martin is putting up his own death flags:

(MAG151) MARTIN: Look, I don’t have time for this. I–I don’t like that I have to work with Peter any more than you do, and I didn’t know that Simon was involved until today. But I would hope that you and Jon understood the importance of preventing an apocalypse. BASIRA: [SIGH] I guess I’m just a bit burned out on the end of the world. MARTIN: Yeah, well… that’s your problem. BASIRA: And if you really think this whole Extinction thing is it… why not come to us for help? MARTIN: I can’t. Peter’s the one with the plan, and… it needs me to be alone. […] I need to do this. For everyone. [SILENCE] BASIRA: You’re not expecting to come out of this, are you? MARTIN: … I’ll do what I have to. If I’m right… no one else needs to get hurt. [SILENCE] BASIRA: [SIGH] … Okay. You want to do whatever “grand sacrifice” you think is going to save everyone, go ahead. But you’d best be sure you’re not just playing their game. MARTIN: I know what I’m doing. BASIRA: We’ll see. [PAUSE] Don’t make me regret this. MARTIN: Yeah… [PAUSE] Don’t… tell Jon. [SILENCE] Please. BASIRA: Fine. I can’t promise you he won’t just know it, though.

… on the one hand: the fact that Martin is expecting it to happen, is getting ready to die… could mean that, precisely, it won’t happen, and he will come out of it somehow. On the other hand: Tim was spitting out his own death flags until the end (MAG116, MAG117, MAG118), was downright saying that he wasn’t expecting to come out of The Unknowing alive, even said that he wasn’t sure he wanted to survive it, and it didn’t prevent him from going out with a bang. On the third hand: it already happened with Tim, so rip Tim but Martin could be… different.

I have no idea. I think that for Martin, surviving while others die and/or surviving without having managed to achieve his goals is probably a worst outcome (meaning, more likely to happen) than sacrificing himself and reaching his objective in the process. He’s adopted the stance of sacrificing himself from a distance for a while: with his mother (she was refusing his visits), with Basira&Melanie (he accepted Peter’s deal to protect them and the Institute from external threats), plus now for Jon (he went to talk to Elias in MAG138, he has accepted to discuss with Daisy in MAG142, with Georgie in MAG149, now with Basira in MAG151… but Jon had been off-limits in MAG129). That, or… becoming something that would have hurt, or has to hurt innocents to survive.

(Does he even think that he matters for them? Basira had described to Jon that Martin had been in a very bad place after his mother’s death, and Elias had confronted him about the fact that she didn’t care about him two months prior. Begging Jon for help while he was in his coma in the trailer also didn’t result in anything; Martin had confirmation that he wouldn’t receive any help. But I… don’t think that Martin is aware of how much Jon has been impacted by his absence this season – would it make him reconsider/waver about the self-sacrificing bit…?)

- Basira agreed to not tell Jon but. She was the one staying behind with the tape at the end of the episode (Martin was the one to leave, while Basira was sighing).

The tape could disappear on its own but… so far… it means that it’s now in Basira’s possession. Would “giving the tape to Jon” count as “not telling him directly”.

- Currently: Jon is going cold turkey and still “hungry” and “weak”; Melanie is risking a slow death by Eye-deprivation, à la Tim in season 3 (his attempt to flee to Malaysia); Daisy has stopped Hunting as well (… although Jon’s “Daisy is… [PAUSE] [SIGH] Yeah. She’s managing.” from MAG148 makes me incredibly worried: was it to point out that their circumstances were different? Was it about a relapse that only Jon knows about? Was it about Daisy being actually slowly dying from the deprivation, like the people in MAG112?); Basira is deep into paranoia territory; and now, Martin… is going for a self-sacrifice.

That’s. Not a pretty picture right now, and the question goes back to “who will die first”.

(And I’m really not sure that Jon wouldn’t give up the “trusting Martin” trajectory and do something rash, if he learns about Martin’s plan to… not come back. Melanie already announced that she was ready to die: from Jon’s point of view, he’s been seeing the assistants disappear or going for their deaths. Sasha died because of the table that Jon wanted to keep. Screaming at Tim “I knew none of us might be coming back, and I’m not gonna let anyone get killed for nothing!” and “I am not losing you as well!!” (MAG118) still didn’t prevent Tim’s death. Martin is the last one of the original assistants and… so far, Martin’s plans had been based on the idea of everyone making it out alive at the end: imprisoning Elias was the way he had found to keep him away without risking to die with him. Right now, Jon&the others are apparently waiting for Martin to get on with his plan, but… probably on the assumption that Martin is planning to come back to them once he’s done. And it’s now officially not the case.)

MAG152’s title is a funny one considering that we’re bidding goodbye to the Kanto dex to head into the Johto region and it’s thus “the Chikorita episode” (the title is… quite fitting for Chikorita) /o/

I’d say End (nothing since Oliver; would Jon mention him in the post-statement…?), Corruption (so… unloved…) or Buried (… DIG/the tunnels?)? Or Lonely again?

[merryfortune]

Day 6 – Earth / Humanity

Ship: Earth & Spectre

Fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh! Vrains

Word Count: 1.3k

Tags:  Post-Canon, Alternate Universe – Everybody Lives/Nobody Dies, · Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort

  Earth placed his hand on the back of Spectre’s hand. It was clamped so tightly over his other one in some vehement defiance and denial of the comfort that Earth couldn’t help but be endeared to it. It saddened him. He was the reason for it; always had; always was going to; but not anymore or so he hoped. But right now, rejection was imminent.

  Earth looked up at Spectre; square, blue eyes compressing slightly, the twinkle became more muted. Words were nearly there but it was difficult for him to discern what ought to be said as he stared up at Spectre’s own blue eyes. Pale, swirling, too distorted to give any insight into the tempest of emotions that Spectre was undoubtedly feeling in this time and place.

  “I’m sorry. I took your humanity away.” Earth said at long last.

  It was a conclusion which had been long coming but at last, he could finally say it. Accept it. Spectre flinched.

  “I had no humanity to begin with.” he said, his voice was steeped with denial.

  But Earth could see past that rocky facade. He, himself, had been in denial of it, as well, until he chipped past it with each whisper that he acquired. After returning, after resurrecting, he had not immediately returned to his Origin’s side. Mostly because he was rather miffed by his current whereabouts and did not know the whereabouts of his companions and he certainly didn’t know any of the drama attached to his Origin and his Origin’s allegiances either. But also, because he was a practical Ignis after all. He wanted information to cure his obliviousness. So, he methodically sought it; asking Ai and then Aqua and then their Origins too.

  All of them forewarned of the same thing: a disaster in which Earth would once more be pierced by the worst of humankind and destroyed. Earth found it ominous. Spectre was loyal to Revolver; Revolver was loyal to the Knights of Hanoi and their goal; Spectre was a Knight of Hanoi. Ergo, if their paths were to directly cross, it would surely foretell a second death for Earth.

  But he wasn’t quite convinced.

  Not of the viewpoint that they had wanted to convey. He was, however, convinced of the viewpoint that they had inadvertently conveyed unto him. There was a recurring theme in such hushed conversations. Spectre was cruel; Spectre was callous; Spectre was hateful… Spectre was something inhuman.

  It was quite a harsh contrast as those same mouths would praise him for being kind, for being loving, for being gentle, and so on and so forth. All whilst remaining inhuman himself. It was startling, Earth found but if he looked deeper, examined it closer, he realised why.

  The Lost Incident had taken something from all the children. And the Ignis had gained that little shard or fragment. Be it courage or connection, whatever was taken, was later rehomed and it became glaring to Earth that the fragment in the very core of his soul was Spectre’s humanity.

  The revelation made Earth uneasy. After all, he could not easily pierce his own soul just to return that shard inside of him. It was only metaphorical, after all. And he was not like Ai, Flame, or Aqua who could so easily reconnect with their respective Origins, but he was not so disadvantaged as Lightning or Windy either, but that consolidation made him feel guilty. The problem did not lie with him but rather Spectre, or so it appeared.

  So, with bated breath, Earth did not expect the world of thus human; gangly, fearful, wanting to return to what he knew was safe – his master’s side. Separated from the pack that he so proudly clung to, and had for the past decade, Spectre was unexpectedly flighty, displaying an almost neutered confidence, relying on patterns of old to get himself through a conversation, if he decided that he would talk at all. And inside that pattern, Earth had no doubt that the decision to eliminate all Ignis – even his Ignis; especially his Ignis – resided.

  But still, Earth drew near. He touched his partner with intent laced with tenderness. Human skin was soft, but his hands were bony. He thought of how Aqua – and the Other Ignis’s – hands felt. They were soft but they didn’t have bone so much as a hollow metallic structure which gave them a substantiated shape.

  “I’m sorry.” Earth said.

  Spectre glowered but there was something like panic in his blue eyes. His mouth was fiercely closed and staying that way. He wanted an escape. He wanted an easier reply, but it seemed, he was built to support, not to enact. Otherwise, he may have already done so and Earth would be nothing again. Well, not quite. He would be soft and melted – Earth had been shown the effect of the Anti-Ignis weaponry on his kind, what happened to Windy and his body was horrific in ways that Earth was too sheepish to sympathise with.

  Earth stroked Spectre’s hand. “I truly am.” he murmured. “You don’t have to accept my apology; perhaps you don’t want it at all,” Earth glanced at Spectre and his defensiveness made him hard to read, “but please take it anyway. I want you to have it. I – I want to be your partner.”

  Spectre’s finger twitched. His index finger all but jumped and his lower lip quivered. His brows sank in on themselves and his expression turned grotesque but ultimately grim. He grabbed Earth and Earth winced. His movements were swift, stunted. Together, they both plunged downwards, and Earth heard Spectre’s back hit the wall of his room.

  This is it, Earth thought to himself. He serenely closed his eyes. The blue no longer illuminating Spectre’s dark room. If this was going to be his second death, then the least that he could do was accept it with dignity and grace.

  Spectre trembled as he held him dearly and close to his chest. Earth heard the human’s heartbeat. He swallowed. It wasn’t steady, like he thought that it would be. Rather, it was quick and irate.

  “Fine.” he said with a forced exhale of breath. “I’ll take it. This apology. I-I’ll take you. I promise you; no harm will come to you under this partnership. Deep down, I want you, too.”

  Spectre brought his knees closer to his chest. He was in a nearly foetal position. His fingers were possessive and long. Earth wriggled in his hands, unable to escape just yet from such terrified clutches: the little boy child with the thing that he shouldn’t have and will be severely punished when his master finds out he has it. Earth looked up at his Origin and he bawling as silently as he could; choosing to not to recognise or acknowledge how tears streamed down his cheeks. They were clear and crystalline.

  His clutch on Earth didn’t lessen but Earth managed. He squeezed his body, awkward and large and bulky, out of Spectre’s hands. He smiled an Ignis smile: no mouth, no lips, just a special fondness in his eyes and he wiped the tears from Spectre’s cheek. Not one; many.

  “I have wanted you to be my friend… for quite some time.” Spectre confessed. “From the last time I cried; I knew that the bond of Ignis and Origin went deeper than Master Ryoken wanted to admit and deeper than how I wanted to care. You shouldn’t have to apologise at all; if anyone ought to beg for forgiveness, it should be me.”

  His voice was all but whimpering but it made Earth feel very happy in a deep part of his soul.

  “I don’t believe that at all.” Earth murmured, thinking of Spectre’s past. The fears which had followed him here for consecration, were completely unfounded, it seemed. And now, Earth thought, it seemed that he had the strong opportunity at present to return what he had wrongly taken from Spectre as their journey to this crossing point in time had culminated as a new beginning.

[thesschesthair]

Knightrook scene analysis - Knightfall: Tilly & Rogers

You’ll have to forgive me if I get things wrong or if I mess up, i’m dog tired from work but I wanted to get this out cos it’s been forever and I miss them.

I was rewatching these scenes because they’re honestly heartbreaking.

She knows it’s going to be a bad day. She can feel it. She’s on the verge of having an episode and she’s gone to the one person she feels can keep her grounded; can make the fear and anxiety go away.

She’s gone to the one person she trusts to help her...

She’s gone to Rogers.

Problem being... Rogers doesn’t recognise the signs. He’s not in tune with Tilly’s way of functioning just yet. 

He assumes she’s just come by to play games- it’s not registering to him that this isn’t just her wanting to spend time having fun.... 

it’s her crying out for help.

He finally gets that she’s having somewhat of a bad day, but he’s far too preoccupied with other things. 

Whether he’s Killian Jones or Detective Rogers, one thing remains a constant trait in his character; his obsessive nature.

For Killian it’s been revenge on the crocodile and finding a cure for his poisoned heart to reunite with Alice.

For detective Rogers, it’s finding the candy killer and Eloise Gardener.

Once he’s got his mind set on something, he loses track of anything else going on around him.

Her face here breaks my heart. 

She believes she’s not important enough to him to be a priority. 

She’s asking for his time, his help... and she’s being turned away.

Pushed aside.

“And i’m not?”

We know she suffers with feeling invisible, used as a pawn, insignificant. 

She truly thought she’d found someone who saw her and accepted her in Rogers. 

Someone who wanted to spend time with her rather than a need to, just for selfish gain. 

He tries to explain.

Of course she’s important. Of course he cares...

But right now, Rogers has a one track mind and Tilly’s getting in the way of it. His obsessive need is gearing up and it’s damaging other vital aspects of his life without him noticing.

Maybe it’s because his cursed memories have him believing he’s always been alone that he doesn’t recognise when he actually does have someone? He’s become so routine in just looking out for himself that he doesn’t notice when someone genuinely is there?

He pushes her away when she needs him most and  I cry. 

Oh no...

Poor Tilly’s really spiralling at this point.

She can’t ignore the feeling she got anymore. 

She’s back at the station and is trying her hardest to appear fine but the cracks are already leaking and she’s becoming irate.

Seeing Eloise there just makes it even more real.

She’s terrified. Of Eloise, of what’s going to happen- and Weaver almost calms her.

He gives her the slightest bit of hope and reassurance... until moody bollocks  Rogers returns, that is. 

And she sees the painting. And it makes sense. 

She’s trying so hard to protect him. She cares and knows this woman can hurt him... and she dreads the thought of him getting hurt. 

She now believes her bad feeling is tied to Rogers and Eloise.

But Rogers is too far into his own spiral to worry about Tilly or her warning. 

He has no time whatsoever to deal with her. 

He’s become blind to any and all things around him that need his attention; he believes he’s making progress in getting information with Eloise and that’s all he’s concerned about. 

He can’t see past his own mission to take note of those around him.

Much like the flashbacks, he’s letting his own pride an honour get in the way of something far more precious.

Tilly. 

Right now, he’s not her friend or her father white knight... he’s a cop and she’s getting in the way of him doing his job.

SWEET BABY CHILD- NO!

BUT LOOK AT HIS FACE.

HE’S COMPLETELY AND UTTERLY SHOCKED... AND ABSOLUTELY TERRIFIED SHE’S THERE.

She’s even got the weapon still in her hand and yet his gun is lowered. 

Full fucking props to Rose cos she slays this scene. 

The confusion, distress and out of her comfort zone is played to perfection.

No one knows how Tilly got there. Tilly doesn’t even know.

Her spiral is a full on tornado now.

She tried to warn them, tried to help them but it was no use. 

The bad finally happened and she’s ended up right in the thick of it.

Notice he’s put the gun away.

Again, she’s holding the weapon, waving it around, is emotionally unstable and becoming more erratic... and yet it seems as if he knows she’s not responsible. 

Either he’s sure she won’t hurt them or he’s sure she didn’t do it in the first place, but either way he’s not got any intention of pointing it at her.

Could he finally be realising he ignored the signs?

Could it be dawning on him that he should have put his attention elsewhere rather than going on a wild goose chase?

I’m not sure.. but it certainly feels like he’s struggling with something... as a cop and a friend. 

He begins to apologise in hopes of calming her down and quite possibly because he’s genuinely sorry he pushed her away.

But it’s too little too late.

Her faith and confidence in them is gone and she’s back to being alone.

She has to run. 

[atc74]

Love Isn’t Fair

Written for: @mrswhozeewhatsis‘s 2018 Louden Swain FanFic FanArt Project

Pairing: Chuck x Reader (YOU), previous Dean x Reader, previous OFC x Reader (This really isn’t about the pairing - fair warning)

Warnings: Domestic Abuse, Alcohol Abuse, Angst

Word Count: 2586

PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS. THERE ARE MULTIPLE TRIGGERS. 

Thank you to @mrswhozeewhatsis for her guidance and support throughout this process. Thank you for letting me be me. 

I sat down on my bed, feet tucked under me. ‘This is stupid,’ I thought. I hadn’t written in a journal since I my freshman year in college. Then, it was fueled by too much drinking and melodrama, not an actual desire for understanding or closure. I’d even tried my hand at poetry a few times. But my therapist suggested that after everything I have been through, that it would be a good idea for me to ‘journal’ my thoughts, feelings, and what have you. She said writing can be cathartic. As a writer, I knew this to be true, but I had also never written to myself before.  I had been given this assignment a while back, but the time hadn’t been right.

I thought back over the last several years, and what my life had been, and what it had become. I had been nervous about trying to date again, and about being a single parent while dating. I hadn’t had the greatest track record before my marriage, so I’d questioned what made me think I could do it with another human to think about? Someone that depended solely on me?

I had been born a hunter, raised by hunters to do nothing but hunt. I followed every order I was given. Every direction I was pointed in, I went. I knew there was something else out there for me, I just hadn’t discovered it, yet. I tried college for a while, but realized pretty quickly that wasn’t going to fill my soul, not knowing what I knew. I wandered aimlessly from hunt to hunt, motel to motel, state to state, across the country more times than I could count. I found love and lost love. More than once, it was violent or bloody, often both.   

Recently, I had been lucky enough to meet Chuck, an amazing man that not only stole my heart, but my son’s as well. He wasn’t a hunter, but he knew enough about the hunting life that I didn’t have to hide my past from him or what I really knew. He even knew Dean Winchester and his brother, Sam. Chuck had welcomed my baggage with open arms and together we’d built a new life, a happy and healthy life. With a new chapter on the horizon, it was time to close the old one. With a deep breath, I opened the brand new journal to page one and picked up my pen.

Dear Diary~

I was nineteen when I swore I met the love of my life, Dean Winchester, another young hunter. We happened to both be working the same case; a shifter that was wreaking havoc in a small town in Northern Michigan. Once the monster was disposed of, we found other ways to fill our time. In my short life, I had never met anyone that made me feel the way Dean did. I was lost to him in every sense of the word.

My parents warned me that it wouldn’t last with a Winchester. But, young love knows no logic. It was fueled by passion and was fast paced. But Dean and I were a bit like fire and ice, oil and water; we looked good together, but were bad for each other.  The sex kept getting better and better, but the hunting became dangerous the more we got wrapped up in each other.  We became reckless.

When that fell apart, I was heartbroken, and my solution was to run into the arms of the next man that opened them. Eric was not a hunter, but a normal guy with a normal job and a life that consisted of watching every televised sport imaginable.

We tried hard - okay, I tried hard -  to make myself normal, but when you are hiding what you really know, along with who you really are, it doesn’t build a lot of trust in a relationship. That one lasted three years, but the writing was on the wall long before that. I just didn’t see it until he didn’t invite me to his sister’s wedding just weeks before our demise. That stung a little. Oh, well. I moved on and was a better person for it. Eric didn’t really love me the way I needed him to love me and it was evident. After all, he never really loved the real me, did he? How could he, when he had never met me?

Remember, Dean Winchester, the love of my life? As luck would have it, I ran into him once more, five years later, on a werewolf hunt. After I stitched him and read him the riot act for jumping in front of me, it got hot and heavy. We were both more mature than we had been and we decided to try again, but it wasn’t meant to be. If it had truly been love, it would have lasted, yes? I still think about him to this day, especially on my birthday, as we shared one.

I took a few years off; I even swore off men for an entire year. I think it was healthy. I learned who I really was without a man and I have to say, I really liked that girl. She was fun, spunky, feisty, even. She discovered she should have been born a redhead and lived life to the fullest. The most important thing I think I learned was that I loved myself. I was enough for me and if someone didn’t like that or wanted to change me, then they weren’t worth my time. I continued to hunt, mostly on my own after discovering I really enjoyed just being me.

As I entered my late twenties, I tried to find that love, that feeling that consumed my soul, but also made me a better person. When I was twenty-eight, I met Bill, another hunter. He was full of life and liked to have a good time. We courted, and were married within thirteen months. We had good, dare I say great times. We were inseparable and shared many interests, one of which happen to be the hunt, the feeling of adrenaline rushing through our veins after a good fight and booze.

I think back and remember the passion, both good and bad, and I know he loved me. But now I have to think...did I love him, or did I love the idea of someone loving me that much?  A wise woman told me when I was young, maybe nineteen or twenty years old, “Find a man that loves you more than you love him and you will never have to worry about whether or not he is faithful.” I thought I had found “the one.” It turns out, how much he loved me didn’t matter if he loved something else more.

Relationships are hard. Relationships with baggage (his, not mine) are harder. He came with a daughter. A beautiful, blonde-haired, blue-eyed little girl that we spent as much time with as we could when we were not hunting. Things were really good for a few years. A few months after our third anniversary, I found out I was pregnant. I had always wanted to be a mother, but I was terrified. Bill wasn’t very supportive at first when I told him. His daughter was almost nine and the first words out of his mouth were, “I was nine years from freedom.” Wow.

The following April I gave birth to a beautiful baby boy, while he drank beer in my hospital room; he even brought his own cooler. I was too drugged up and happy about the birth of my son to see the red flag. We had also decided to settle down and bought a house at the same time, so I was home with our brand new baby and he was out hunting. I left the life on the road when I got pregnant and strictly did research for him. But each time Bill came home, I noticed the drinking increased dramatically. I chalked it up to stress: new baby, new house, same jobs, less money, more expenses.  Only, it didn’t really slow down.

I remember one day in particular, because it was his birthday. Bill was fit to be tied because we had plans. A friend’s wedding and his birthday all fell on the same day. He had begun drinking when he woke up and was irate because I had made plans on his birthday. He started screaming and calling me names. His daughter was visiting for the weekend and now both she and the baby were crying. He picked up a laundry basket and launched it across the room where it hit a lamp, shattering the glass shade and bulb all around the living room.

I directed his daughter to take the baby and hide upstairs in her bedroom. Bill came up the stairs and carried me back down with his elbow locked around my neck, until we landed in the kitchen, where he threw a chair at me. Luckily he missed because he was too drunk to see straight. Like a lot of other women, I didn’t call the police; we’re hunters. I called his friend, a fellow hunter, and he came right over and as soon as Bill saw him, he was right as rain and happy as a damn clam. I will never forget the fear in his daughter’s eyes, or the screams from the mouth of my fourteen-month old son. Minutes later, it was like nothing had ever happened.

Years go by, and the drinking not only continued, but it escalated. We had a few neighbors over here and there, but soon, even they stopped hanging out with us. I had isolated my family because of him and stopped enjoying so many things I had loved before him. I became withdrawn and turned into a shadow of my former self. I gained weight. In short, I was miserable.

First Corinthians chapter thirteen says: “Love is patient; love is kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things....faith, hope, love, but the greatest of these is love.”

But the thing is, it wasn’t. Not anymore. Love was no longer enough. The love I had for him turned into resentment and disgust. I found a creative outlet for that anger and I started writing. I made new friends and suddenly, my world was larger than I ever thought possible. I became brave. I stood up for myself. Instead of the timid woman I had become, I rediscovered the girl I once was. Gone was the mousy brown hair that I hid behind. I emerged from the cocoon, a redhead once again and I began to find my way back.

I distanced myself from Bill and started doing things on my own again. I stepped out of my comfort zone. I lost weight and gained new confidence. The old me, the fun me was back; but she was still a mom. And I vowed never to lose myself again.

Somewhere along the way, our vows went astray. The affair he had with alcohol was not a sin of the flesh, it was a sin of the heart; one that was too important for him to give up for his family. I felt betrayed. I can’t stand what he put me through; what he put our son through. There were too many lies, years and mountains of broken deals. All I asked for was honesty and even that was too much.

He left on another hunt and I filed for divorce after a very long and tiring winter. I know I will have to atone for my sins as well, as small as they are. I gave up on us, gave up on him after fifteen years. It may not sound like my sins are real, but I never thought I would be that woman who leaves her husband. But the moment he put our son in jeopardy was the day I decided enough was enough; my heart was in despair and there was no coming back from that if I didn’t do something. I was already there, and I needed to crawl back out.

Chuck, the true love of my life, I actually met by accident. I walked into my neighborhood tattoo parlor one day and there he was. He inked me with my first post-separation tattoos. He didn’t comment on the quotes I had chosen. We talked and he instantly won me over with his odd charm, sparkling blue eyes and salt and pepper beard that hid a mischievous smile.  We developed a strong friendship that led to a stronger relationship with a solid bond of trust and love.  Chuck taught me a lot about myself, too.

I learned that it was okay to close my eyes and let go of the hurt inside. I have the faith that the hurt will fade and I will be stronger and better for it.

“...faith, hope, love, but the greatest of these is love.” For me, the greatest of these is faith.

~Y/N

I close the cover and lay my journal aside just as a knock sounds softly at my door and the same blue eyes I have been looking at in the mirror my entire life find mine. “Hey Mom? Can I come in?”

“Sure, Buddy. You want to watch a movie?” I asked as he snuggled up to my side. He isn’t small, but he always fits perfectly right there.

“Sure. Can we watch The Avengers?” He looked up at me from under a blond mess of shaggy bangs. “And can we have apples and peanut butter?”

“Yes we can, Bud. You start the movie, I’ll be right back with the snacks.” I rose from my seat.

“Hey Mom?” he called out for me.

“Yeah Bud?” I turned back to him from the top of the stairs. .

“I love you.” He smiled and blew me a kiss. I caught it with one hand and put it in my pocket for later.

As I sliced up an apple, I thought ahead to the following weekend and what was waiting for me... for us. The man that had fallen in love with us had asked us to marry him. We would be wed in just a few days time. A new love; a new beginning.

Faith, hope love...I know that Chuck loves me, loves us. I have faith that this will be the forever love that I had been searching for. And hope for a wonderful and long future together. But there is so much more.  Maybe the greatest of these is love. It is the unconditional love of a child that has seen more than he ever should have had to see in his short life. It’s the hope that I have for him that he won’t repeat the cycle. It’s the faith I have that no matter how many hard days there are, it’s moments like this that show me I made the right choice, not just for me, but for him. So maybe love isn’t fair, but this? This is the greatest love of my life and I will take that every day of the week and twice on Sunday.

Author’s footnote: This is based on my personal experience, all of the incidents in this fic happened to me. This was the hardest thing I have ever written. When I found Supernatural three years, I started to find myself again. The friends [family :)] I have made here have helped give me the strength I needed again.

Two weeks before the divorce papers were served, I got the two tattoos that I have been waiting for. I found strength in a little band with a funny name, deep lyrics and a strong, charismatic front man. 

The road is long and will be hard to navigate at times, but I know with the support of my friends and family, I am on the right path. I am the captain of my story. I close my eyes and let go of the hurt inside. I have the faith that the hurt will fade and I will be stronger and better for it.

To my readers: Please, please, if you find yourself in a similar situation, please seek assistance, call the police, get out.

To Rob, Billy, Stephen and Mike - thank you for the beautiful music you create. It does more than you know. 

The Whole Enchilada - join the fiesta: @sis-tafics  @holyfuckloueh @gh0stgurl @hobby27  @bethbabybaby @anspgene @paintrider13-blog @cyrilconnelly @chelsea072498 @just-another-busy-fangirl @just-a-touch-of-sass-and-fandoms @d-s-winchester @roxyspearing @heyitscam99 @iwantthedean @jpadjackles @mogaruke @smoothdogsgirl @x-waywardaf-x @myoutletforfanfiction @growningupgeek @spnbaby-67 @wonderange @emoryhemsworth @crispychrissy @impalaimagining @feelmyroarrrr @docharleythegeekqueen @katymacsupernatural @hennessy0274-blog @esoltis280 @shaelyn102 @rockhoochie @charliebradbury1104 @pinknerdpanda @hannahindie @wingedcatninja​ @highfunctioning-sociopath @speakinvain @evansrogerskitten @percussiongirl2017​ @blacktithe7​ @winchesterprincessbride​ @theoriginalvicki​ @mrswhozeewhatsis​ @sweetpeamoose​ @mamaredd123​ @sandlee44​ @mottergirl99​ @meeshw777​ @squirrel-moose-winchester​ @milkymilky-cocopuff​ @meganwinchester1999​ @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester​ @grace-for-sale​ @4401lnc​  @countrygal17a​ @tina8009​ @andkatiethings​ @nanie5​ @jbbarnesgirl @monkeymcpoopoo​ 

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Chuck’s List: @natasha-cole @ellen-reincarnated1967 @a-queen-and-her-throne @shanghai88