#i have become insufferable without the season even dropping yet | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kyberphilosopher · 3 years

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Word Count: 3467 Requested: yes. Based off ‘505′ Warnings: strong hints to sexual disposition. Spoilers if you squint.

“I’d probably still adore you with your hands around my neck... I did last time I checked.” -Arctic Monkeys, ‘505′.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

With hoarse breath and unwavering eyes, you look up to the stars as you speak. “So, you’re really going to do it then?”

“I have to,” you hear him say. His voice has gotten far more mature and calm since the first time you’d heard him speak. Still angry and determined, but in an intelligent, adult way. Eren is a more capable person now. The only thing left to do is wait and see if that’s a good thing, or a bad thing.

“What do you think are the chances of winning?” you question. A shooting star whizzes across the sky at that very moment, and it’s gone before you can think of a wish.

You turn around to face him, but his eyes are already on you. Once upon a time, Eren’s eyes were emerald and teal and deep. Now they’re paler. They are cold and steady as a byproduct of who he’s become. It’s hard not to wonder what he’s thinking about when he looks at you like this, especially since he’s become harder to read over the years.

At first, Eren was one of the most insufferable people you’d ever met. He acted out so often, it was hard to see him as another person of intelligent life. You mostly just minded your business through your cadet years, usually hanging around Reiner, who was also difficult to see as intelligent life. Sometimes you and Eren would argue, but it was never passionate. You just had different world views.

Things got better when you found out what Eren really was. Since you hadn’t made top ten, you could only choose between the Garrison Regiment, or the Scout Regiment. And with Eren’s newly discovered power showing the promise of hope, you decided on the Scouts. He liked that.

After that, it was hard not to mature at the same time as he. Eren often blamed himself for the death and carnage that surrounded the regiment. You were solely responsible for the passing of your best friend. And after everything that happened with the government, almost dying at Shiganshina- you knew you couldn’t stand this much longer. With your relationship with Eren still budding in its early and steamy stages, he was the only one you told of your desertion. You abandoned the corps, finding a small, abandoned farm within wall Maria to hide out in.

Eren was too tired and sick of everything to think you were being cowardly. He wanted to leave too. Maybe come with you. But Eren had plans in the works that he couldn’t leave alone. He visited you less and less. Luckily you never made a fuss.

And now Eren wants to end the world, to save the world. How does he expect you to react to this?

“I just thought I should see you,” Eren replies. You know he’s deflecting your question. You’re not stupid.

You nod slowly, blinking as you think. “Am I going to die?”

Your companion crosses his arms calmly. “Yes,” he tells you.

There it is.

“You know I can’t support you in this, right?” you tell Eren, equally as calm.

He only replies after a moment, also in deep thought. “I know.”

You look back up to the sky, sighing out through your nose. “Why did you come, Eren? Did you want me to tell you that I think you’re doing the right thing? Or was it because you need to let out some anger? I wonder.”

“I did want to see you.”

“Do you still?”

Silence.

“Yes.”

“And I suppose there’s nothing I can do to change your mind?”

“No.”

The stars are glittering with pastel hues, like a rainbow, or kaleidoscope. Each one is a different size, bordering on different shapes, all fusing and melting together like your idea of heaven. You can barely even see the midnight color of the sky through all them. It is beautiful, but it’s also bitter. Everything is bitter, here.

“I didn’t make myself any dinner yet,” you say. “Couldn’t think of anything.”

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

When she was alive, Eren’s mother would make a soup for the family. It was creamy, hot, filled with meat and cheese at the bottom. Eren never liked soup, but he did love that dish. She was always sure to make extra for him, so that he could enjoy it for several days. And although it wasn’t until after she was gone that Eren realized he rarely ever thanked her for it, it was still one of the warmest memories Eren had.

He fills your wooden bowl with it, being awfully generous. He knows that even though you haven’t eaten much in the last few years, you too had grown fond of the soup. He knows no matter how slowly you force it down, you are enjoying it. It burns the roof of your mouth every time, but you’ve never cared. All that matters is the creamy sauce, and the cow cooked to perfection.

You stare at the fireplace beside you, flames cackling and licking upward. Eren sets the bowl in front of you, and takes the seat on the other side. You know he sets his long hair behind his shoulders. You’re already prepared. From your pocket, you produce a stretchy brown hair tie on the verge of snapping, handing it to him.

“Thanks,” he says, even though this routine has happened however many times he’s seen you.

“You’re welcome.”

The soup is as amazing as usual. You’re willing to bet Eren makes it even better than his mother did, but you dare not say it aloud. It’s creamy, perfectly seasoned. It goes down your throat, still steaming.

“Does Mikasa know about this?” you question, taking one more delicious bite.

“No. None of them do,” Eren answers. “Armin will figure it out soon.”

“You want me to kill ‘em?”

Eren shakes his head. To a lot of people, this would be taken as a joke. But this is nowhere near it. Your tone is too casual, too low for it to be humor of any kind. And the way the man across from you reacts- he’s thinking the same thing.

“No.”

“How are they, then?”

Eren thinks as he takes another bite, the warmth creeping up his chest sweetly. “They’re alright for now. I don’t know for how much longer. I can’t see everything.”

“Can you see who’s next?”

He squints at his bowl as if he were angry, but his eyebrows barely move. “Sasha.”

Sasha. She was always a good presence to have around. While she seemed like the type of person who would annoy you, it was hard to hate her. And you admired her keen intuition anyway.

“Will you give her something for me?”

Eren nods. Then you both go back to eating for a few seconds, basking in the orange glow from the flames.

“How are things here?” he questions after a minute.

“The same,” you tell him. “I think the cow might die soon.”

Some people might reply with condolences, or sympathy. But your lover does not, and you do not expect him to. “I’ll get you a new one,” he says flatly, almost like a promise. You nod once.

Despite the atmosphere which can only be described as bitter, you’re glad to see Eren again. You’re glad that he’s alive, and as alright as he can be. The bed is always colder without him, heated up only by your lingering fingers that you pretend are his every other night. Whenever he leaves an article of clothing behind, usually on purpose, you hold off on washing it so it can smell like him for you as long as possible. Then there are the hair ties you keep either in your pocket or on your wrist, specifically for him. The razors in your cabinet he often didn’t even bother using.

Even with the sullen demeanor that had managed to overtake both of you, there was at least one thing you cared about in the world still. Maybe it wasn’t the most conventional kind of caring, or the healthiest coping mechanism. But it was still caring. And all that you cared about was him.

You knew you weren’t Eren’s first priority. You were probably second, or third. It didn’t bother you. Eren’s head was one of the first things lost when the truth was presented to him. It came back coldly and sternly, in contrast to how previously hot and impatient it had been. But by then your head had also grown colder and sterner. In simpler terms, Eren did care for you. He did love you. But he would consider letting you die if it meant achieving what he set out to do, and you knew this.

Across the table, Eren lifts his head to look up at you as he chews slowly. The burning meal slides down his throat easily, albeit painfully. It doesn’t even register with him, his piercing eyes slowly gaining a glint from the fire light.

You meet his eyes after a few seconds, feeling them on you. You don’t say a word, don’t even give a questioning look. You just hold him patiently, which is something the two of you find yourself doing often.

“You can’t stop it,” Eren speaks, looking you dead in the eyes with a steady gaze. There is love behind his eyes, far behind the anger, but you can tell from the tone of voice he is trying to tell you something as if it were an order. Your lips part slightly from the intensity radiating from your lover, who doesn’t move a muscle. “You’ll be free soon.”

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Dinner ends. Eren helps clean up the dishes for you and goes to get water from your well so you can clean easier. You already know from the way his thumb brushed against your own when you took the bowls that you’ll likely be bent over the sink in a few minutes, which you don’t mind, but you wonder if he’ll be willing to be softer than usual as an apology for what he’d said earlier.

He’d meant to scare you. You’re intelligent enough to figure that out. Even though you don’t scare easy, and you didn’t even give an extreme reaction, the look in Eren’s eyes had made your heart drop to your stomach. Sometimes you forget that Eren sees everything. Then he says something like that to remind you in the most memorable way.

The wooden door opens and closes behind you. Boots scuff the ground for a few seconds, drawing closer and closer as something in you sparks with anticipation, as it always does. A pail of water hits the surface beside you, partially sloshing over the sides, shining silver in the moonlight from the tall window in front of you. Finally, ultra hot hands slide around your waist and push gently but tightly against where your ribs diverge.

A jaw leans down on your right shoulder, chin poking against your collarbone. Locks of hair brush against your own, just as the hand on the left runs across your side to finally put a small band in your pocket.

“I did miss you,” Eren’s low voice seemingly growls, his chest rumbling softly against your back.

“I was thinking about you,” you admit with monotone, knowing your lover can read through it like as easily as a knife slices through skin.

“I hope I didn’t worry you,” he says, though you can also read through his own tone. He probably didn’t care about worrying you. He definitely doesn’t still.

“You didn’t.”

You place a both bowls in the sink, running your fingers over the dirty spoons. Eren’s orbs follow your movement. You can feel his chin change positions ever so slightly in the coming seconds.

“Can you pass me the rag?” you ask, eyes focused on a piece of food on the spoon that doesn’t even exist.

In response, Eren doesn’t pass you anything. Only his right hand gives you any kind of acknowledgement, passing from on your ribs to down lower. His fingertips skin over the erogenous zone under the waistband of your undergarments.

“I worried about you,” Eren murmurs boldly. The hot fingertips pass under the cloth finally, pricks of stubble on his jaw scratching your neck and shoulder as he shifts. “I wanted you to be okay.” His left hand raises to grasp the breast above it. Slowly at first, then firmly, like a warning. Everything is a warning with him.

Your head lulls back uncontrollably. The back of your hair matts up as it rolls against his own shoulder.

“I said you worried me,” your partner grumbles. “Did you hear me?”

“No,” you lie lowly, refusing to let your voice shake despite the shiver in your throat.

“Mm,” Eren hums in condescending understanding. A force presses against your core, which has turned burning hot and ice cold at the same time. The force pulls away, a string of something smooth and slimy following it that makes a sound draw from your lips. It’s high pitched, weak, and unstoppable. You’d be embarrassed if you weren’t so associated with Eren.

His hand gives your breast a firm squeeze, soreness blossoming from the center. Your back arches quickly and returns lax against him, though now something pokes against your bottom that makes your eyes pop open with a new alertness. Eren’s hand gives you no time again. From your chest, it flies to your throat, holding it back with soft strictness as the other finally dips into the hot pool between your hips.

“I worried about you.”

A strangled groan releases from between your lips again, this time fully carried up through the air. To Eren, it must sound like nothing more than music, or background noise.

Thick cylinders pump inside you to the knuckle. They feel better than your own. They always have.

It feels good. Full. Tight and fast and like the inside of you is quivering under the weight of something that you can’t see or hear. Eren is like a blanket supporting you from falling over, keeping you upright with his grip and his fingers buried inside of you. Prodding every angle, every spot. Not necessarily romantically, but still lovingly. He has always had this goal during intimacy. Nothing matters but communicating to you just how close he wants to be.

“Eren,” you choke, a dribble of spit sliding from the corner of your lips.

“Again,” he hisses in response. His fingers hit a tight spot, making every muscle in your body clench at the same time.

You don’t say another word, your mouth hanging partially open as you focus on everything around you. And it’s all Eren Jaeger. His smell, his growls, his voice, his breathing, his chest, his muscles, his hair, his anger, his bitterness, his intelligence, his determination. It’s overwhelming. It reminds you of getting swept in one of those waves at the ocean he described to you. He’s yours. No- more likely, you’re his. End of story.

“I said again.”

“Eren,” you moan.

His head nuzzles into your neck comfortingly, his fingers pushing faster and harder. You can feel how warm you are, never mind how slick. And the way your own body holds around his digits every time he pulls away is enough to make you all the more warm and slick.

But then...

What is he doing?

He had said “you’ll be free soon”. And yet, here he is, gripping you tightly as he forces you into the corner of submitting. And yes, it is hot. It arouses you as it always has. But something about it makes your stomach turn into a knot of unpleasantness, in contrast to the other one of liquid pleasure.

“Eren,” you strain, squirming against him.

Eren speeds up again. A grunt falls from his own mouth from his own power, and you know he’s getting off almost as much as you are. It doesn’t stop feeling good. Feeling euphoric.

It’s getting rougher. Rougher and harder and faster, more intense.

“Eren.”

Another gruff moan from him.

“Eren! Stop! Stop!”

Eren’s palm softens away at once. It lifts away, his eyes opening and his hand stilling inside of you. He watches you shake as you gaze up to the ceiling, wide eyed. Your thighs sputter, entire body twitching. You didn’t cum.

His eyes trail over you. You’ve worked up a steady sweat glistening and glowing, shivering and shaking and quaking because of him in the best way. You’re his. His partner, his friend, his ally he knows for a fact he can rely on.

“C-can we... Eren...”

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Drips of water dribbling down Eren’s temple. One of your hands are threaded in his brunette locks, holding them back so you can have an uninterrupted view. The other hand is dabbing cloth against his forehead and hairline, bathing him softly.

He’d gone a while without bathing again. You could tell. Eren’s eyes are glued to yours, deep teal memorizing all the flecks in your own as if he hadn’t a million times over.

Eren loves you. Dearly. He’d travel all seven hours and forty five minutes just to tell you that. He doesn’t know what made you stop earlier. He doesn’t ask. But he’s not mad. Overall, Eren understands that it doesn’t matter what you asked to stop for. You give the word, he obeys. Not because he has to, but because he loves you.

Still, he knows something is wrong. You don’t show it. You’re steady, calm, mature, apathetic as always. But in the pit of Eren’s stomach, something brews. A warm, strange feeling of intuition and omniscience.

“You look very pretty today,” Eren ventures, wondering only of your response. “Did I tell you that?”

Your eyes squint. “Thank you,” you reply back.

The cloth continues to rub against his skin, cleaning something that probably doesn’t even exist. Dirt, maybe. Eren’s stopped taking care of his skin in the past few years.

“You’re welcome.”

Your eyes squint again. This time, they gloss over with sharp wetness like glass. The eyebrows crease like a break, your bottom lip trembling as you suck it between your teeth.

He doesn’t know what he was expecting. But your lover wasn’t expecting this.

Eren hates when you cry. He can remember the first time he’d seen it, but not the most recent. You didn’t cry often- you were strong. Crying over something as useless and flimsy as emotions didn’t seem worth it. So what was this for? What were you about to make Eren break down inside over?

Your hand falls limply from his forehead. Shoulders hunch over in defeat, staring down at the floor as your hair covers over your face. And then the sniffles come, choked out coughs like sobs.

Eren can see the lightest of bruises he’d left on you from earlier, but you’d never had a problem with it before. No, it was something else. But what?

Silent, your teeth grit together as you wince, tears streaming down your face inexplicably.

“Earlier w-when you,” you gulp, snot beginning to form, “when you- I did worry a-about you. I- I don’t know why I didn’t...”

You stumble forward. Eren stands from your bath tub to catch you as you slump against him tiredly.

“I hate it when you go.”

Eren switches positions with you, pushing you down to sit on the edge of the tub. He takes the wet rag from your hand and holds your shoulder back so he can have a good look at you. Then the cloth dabs against your own forehead, just as you had done to him.

“I hate it here,” you sigh, a single tear drop blurring your vision as it falls finally.

Your lover moves the cloth from your head to your cheeks, smearing the wetness into your skin and away. They moisten and dry, your eyes red and shiny. Eren tilts your head up under your jaw, creasing his brows and using the towel to clean closer to your eyes.

“If it helps,” he says, looking straight into your eyes, “you’re crying, but I still think you look pretty.”

You’d be lying if you said that didn’t help even a little, because you love him.

A soft smile creeps to your lips, your hands dropping in between your thighs.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

No I didn’t reread this lmfao enjoy. Hope I did you justice anon

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nat-20s · 3 years

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fill of @jonmartinweek day 6 prompt- flirting AND jealousy, though much heavier on the jealousy than the flirting. Set in a classic “season 5 jmart time travel bac to season 1″ au

~*~

“Mr. Blackwood-Sims, if I didn’t know any better, I would assume you’re trying to proposition me.”

“Mr. Sims-Blackwood, I would never. For one, neither of us are inclined towards those sorts of activities, for second, we’re both married men. What would my husband say?”

“I believe your husband would say he never specified exactly what you were propositioning, and he would be more than amenable to kissing, preferably sometime in the next few seconds.”

“Mmm, suppose I’ll have to find him and take him up on that, then. If that’s really how he feels.”

“Trust me, it most certainly is.”

Christ, would those two shut up already? Granted, it’s late enough that they probably think they’re alone in the archives, but, still. This is, technically, a work place, and Jon would’ve preferred not to have accidentally gotten an eyeful as he made his way past the open door in the breakroom. Now, the image of (supposedly) a future version of himself sitting on the couch, with (supposedly) a future version of Martin straddling his legs, using one hand to cup his face, and the other to run his hands through that Jon’s longer hair, was seared into his mind, and he hated it. Look, contrary to what people who don’t know him very well seemed to believe, he’s hardly a prude. He’s more than fine with descriptions of physical intimacy, as well as public displays of affection. If he’s being honest with himself, deep down, he doesn’t even care all that much about professionalism, especially considering it is after hours.

But of course, he’s not being honest with himself, because then he’d have to admit that it bothers him that it’s them. He doesn’t know what to call the acrid burning in the pit of his stomach, the too tight ache in his chest, that’s present whenever the fun house mirror versions of himself and Martin are besotted with each other, but he knows it’s there. It doesn’t help that he’s the only one that seems to be bothered by it, the only one that frowns at the flash of wedding rings or the orbit those two always seem to occupy around each other.

Or, no, he’s not the only one. Occasionally, while witnessing the two of them being...the Two of Them, he can’t help glancing over to Martin. Lo and behold, Martin also doesn’t look thrilled about all of this, usually skewing more towards confusion or, oddly enough, resignation. At least, that’s what Jon thinks he sees there, it’s one of the few times where he can’t fully get a read on Martin.

Still, as much as Martin might share in being somewhat perturbed, as anyone who meets their “future selves” should be, Martin doesn’t seem nearly as upset as Jon is. That brings him back to his current predicament of feeling that level of upset, but not being able to determine the root cause of it.

It is not that he’s jealous. It’s not! He does not feel a pang of envy at seeing someone who looks extremely similar to himself loving openly, and being openly loved in return. He doesn’t find his thoughts drifting to the imagined feeling of lips pressed to his temple or arms around his waist or fingers running through his hair. He certainly hasn’t looked down at his left hand and been disappointed by the fact that its bare. He doesn’t even want those things, as he’s been telling himself for a number of many lonely years. One of these days he might even believe it.

Fine. Fine. Maybe, but only maybe, there’s a part of him that’s jealous. Maybe there’s even a part of him that despairs, because try as he might he can’t connect point A to point B, can’t see the steps he would have to take to be like that other version of himself, and he knows his Martin (well, not his Martin, but..) will never look at him like that, will never see him in that light. And, damn it all, it hurts, so if they could kindly stop ru-

Oh. Wait. He can’t hear them outside his office door anymore. Huh, perhaps they-

“Knock knock.”

Startled out of his...contemplation, Jon looks up to find himself looking back. Sims is leaning against the door-frame, with mussed hair, swollen lips, and pupils blown wide. Jon loathes him and wishes to be him in equal measure. In a move he usually would’ve thought more characteristic of Tim, Sims doesn’t wait for a response, instead sitting himself across from Jon and saying, “Figured you’d still be here.”

Trying not to sound too much like he’s speaking through gritted teeth, Jon asks, “Did you now?”

Sims gives a lackadaisical shrug. “With any luck, you’re not going to become me. I not sure you can become me, at this point, diverging paths and all that. However, we do share the first 28 years of our lives, and I certainly didn’t believe in the concept of a work life balance, so why would you?”

“Is there something you wanted?”

“Yes, actually. I want you to ask out Martin, your moping is getting insufferable, and considering how much of our misery has been entirely outside of our control, you shouldn’t put up with what is in your power to fix.”

Jon blinks. Jon processes. Jon stammers. “I-what?! I am not, you can’t just-. Martin doesn’t even like me, and if you really were the same person as me, you know I’m not all that keen on him either.”

“Uh-huh. Is that why you can’t stop thinking about his hands?”

“I do no-”

Sims puts a hand up in surrender, though the smirk doesn’t entirely drop. “Sorry, sorry, I know that’s rather unhelpful. What I mean is, you’re already loved, right now, as you are. No, that love is not coming from Martin, but it could be,t because he doesn’t dislike you. He doesn’t know you, because you have done everything in your power to make sure he doesn’t. You also don’t know him, even though you’re interested in him, because you’ve been trying not to be. It’s stupid. Get to know each other. It’ll probably work out.”

“I...is that how you did it? Because this seems like an objectively terrible idea.”

Sims snorts. “God, no. It took a coma before I was able to untangle my own feelings. The whole point is that you won’t have to take the same looping, painful path that I did.”

Jon wants to reject it outright, almost does, and yet. “Fine.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yes, really. Why?’

“Nothing, just. We’re usually a more stubborn on these sorts of things. I was expecting more of a fight.”

“Mm. Normally, I would be, but I’ve been forced to watch two rather obvious proof of concepts waltzing around in front of me, and agreeing will hopefully get you the hell out of my office.”

Sims studies him for a moment, then a surprised smile spreads on his face. “All right then.”

Jon makes a dismissive hand wave, and Sims obliges, and he spends the rest of the night trying not to think about what he’s agreed to.

~*~

The next day, about half an hour before the end of the work day, Jon calls Martin into his office. From his tight shoulders and carefully blank expression, it’s clear Martin very much does not want to be there. Great. This is going to go so well.

Jon gestures for him to sit, Martin does, and he dives in. “As we both now know, I don’t have the ability to fire you. In all reality, even though I am, on paper, your boss, I truly don’t have any power or authority over you.”

Martin leans back in his seat, letting a heavy pause fall between them before saying a stilted, “Okay?”

“So, I want you to know that I am about to ask you a question, and you have complete freedom and choice over your response, without fear of any negative consequences. Alright?”

“Um. Sure.”

Jon takes a breath, slowly lets it out, and bites the bullet. “Would you like to get dinner sometime?”

Martin stares. Then he squints. Then he studies. “Oh. Jon, you...we’re not them, you know that, right?”

“I’m aware.”

“So..why?”

Jon lets out a sigh, and tries to gather his thoughts in a way that makes sense to either of them. “Well, though I myself have some trouble with the concept, they’re not..entirely removed from who we are, and there’s enough foundation there that I have reason to believe we might...get on? Maybe we don’t, maybe we end up being friends, maybe we end up like them. That’s already enough to pique my own curiosity, but, alternate future versions of us aside, I mostly would just like to get to know more about you, and I’m hoping you might like to get to know me better as well.”

Martin’s shoulders relax, and he chews on his bottom lip for a moment before replying, “Okay. Yeah, why not?”

“Oh. Oh! Great! Does this Saturday work for you?”

“Works perfectly. Let’s give a shot.”

The first date is..fine. A Bit of a mess, but fine. The second date, however, is the best Jon’s ever been on. It’s so wonderful, in fact, that he doesn’t even mind when he catches Blackwood passing a fiver to Sims the day he can’t stop smiling at work.

#jonmartinweek2021 #jonmartin #jon sims #martin blackwood #tma #the ending is literally 'we wouldn't be compatible without trauma' 'oh bet?'#ALSO GOD THIS IS SO LONG FOR A FICLET HH

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fruitless-nonsense · 3 years

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Hello again! A bit of a delay I know, had some personal life stuff, but I’m back babey!

Firstly, I want to say Happy Pride Month! ❤️🧡💛💚💙💜 I myself have only recently come out, but to all my peeps in the lgbtq+ community I wish you a month of celebration.

For the topic, I chose one that has been circling in my brain since some asks last week gave me a revelation: I will be discussing kolvina, and more specifically the direction the writers chose for a one Davina Claire.

This ship has always been an anomaly to me, like when it was happening on my screen I was in denial that it was happening at all, and the perceptions on this site have only fueled that feeling. I’ve been watching these communities for a few years now, and the general consensus is people both love and hate this ship, and both sides seem to be equal in numbers. So what is my opinion on kolvina? Well after much deliberation I have decided that.... I don’t like it, and here’s why!

First thing’s first, I want to say I understand this ship better than any other ship in both shows, honestly if the characters acted differently it would’ve been a lot better. The dynamic is there (and I know how important that is to people), not just a trope, but between both characters it works! Let me explain, starting with Kol. Season two goes into depth on his insecurities with his family and how lonely it made him feel over the years. I mean, the show always potrayed the big three: Klaus, Elijah, and Rebekah with the strongest bonds and while Finn chooses to exclude himself (for valid reasons tbh) Kol even in the vampire diaries wanted to be a part of that. The problem is (for some reason that is never explained) his siblings don’t care about him. The easiest example is how they reacted to his death, Rebekah was upset for a minute and Elijah didn’t even seem affected at all, the closest I can say is Klaus was angered and didn’t forget for a while, but as soon as the originals started nothing. Then we have his second death where Klaus takes the only opportunity to bring him back off the table and the only one who seeks to try is Rebekah, meanwhile Elijah is nowhere to be found in this department. This finally brings us to Davina. As much of an issue as this is (and we’ll talk about it later), Davina seems to be the first person to ever put Kol first. When he dies a second time, Davina’s number one priority is his resurrection and goes to incredible lengths to do so. I know people say it’s unrealistic for Kol to take interest in a mortal, but it makes sense to me, she’s a witch. From what we learn, Kol has a soft spot for witches cause he yearns for the power that was taken from him by his mother, which doesn’t even go into Davina herself being a rebel like him who paved her own way. Onto Davina’s feelings towards him, Kol’s the only person in her life that is there unconditionally. I know Marcel loves her, but his loyalty to his family clearly comes into conflict with his loyalty to his other family, including her. Klaus either ruins her life or demands things from her. Cami was there for her, but they scrapped that relationship after season one. When Kol is by her side, it’s not cause he needs things from her, nor is he there as some kind of protection. In season two, Davina had a plan and Kol’s response was “okay, I can assist you with that.” Side note, I really liked their friendship in season two before they of course made it something more. Regardless of the past, all of this material would’ve made for a pretty great relationship, but it fell flat, why did that happen?

I have two reasons for why I could never get on board with them. The first is the most obvious: it’s the age difference for me. I know we had Damon and Elena and Klaus and Caroline, but for kolvina the vibe was weirder. Perhaps because Davina acts more childish than them in season one, or because our image of her was young and sweet. It might also have to do with Kol referring to being Kaleb as the body of a teenager making him seem way older than he probably is. I know by season three Davina is 18, but that feeling never goes away for me. This was my hesitance in season two, but as a friendship those two were pretty fun together (might be an unpopular opinion). The problems start in season three.

The second reason is something that the community has kind of dipped into, but not enough. I don’t know if I’m not looking hard enough, but every complaint for kolvina in season three talk only about how insufferable Kol was, which yeah definitely, but honeys he’s only half the problem. Not even halfway through season two Davina stopped being a character. Remember her in season one? A bright spitfire who wasn’t afraid to speak up at the injustice of the Mikaelson’s even if it put her at risk? The girl who showed up Klaus on multiple occasions? Who stood for Josh, Marcel, Cami, and anyone else being pushed around by Klaus? The girl who was powerful, yet kind? A powerhouse set up on a warpath against the Mikaelson’s for season two? I remember her! She was one of my favorite characters because of how badass she was while still keeping her agency. I don’t blame you if you forgot she’s never talked about, and that’s because of what follows. Season two starts off well, with Davina standing her ground against the wolves and keeping Mikael under control showed she wasn’t completely in over her head. Her plan is to find a way to de-sire Klaus’ sireline so she doesn’t kill Marcel and Josh which shows she’s smart and thinking ahead. Then she meets Kaleb, and it goes downhill from there. I get that Davina is supposed to be a naive teenage girl, but that doesn’t excuse after she finds out Kaleb is really Kol. After her Mikael plan fell through her backup plan is to just sit around until Kol shows her the room and tells her about the dagger. With what she’s trying to accomplish it’s a smart plan, but that doesn’t mean her sudden trust in Kol is any less stupid. Her first thought when he’s gone with the stake is to assume he took it and left, so if she thought he was capable of that, why did she drop her guard in the first place? Gets me frustrated. When Kol dies Davina also completes the dagger and for the rest of the season does nothing with it, she does nothing period but whine about Kol with everyone she interacts with which is annoying considering how much she was a part of in season one. That was bad, but the worst is yet to come. Season three gives her a storyline as a ruler of the witches before immediately ending it, and when you look at what they threw away it’s even worse. So Davina gets Hayley to kill one of her detesters and it ends in a bloodbath and the son vows justice for his mom (which is completely valid), and Marcel hints at her turning into Klaus. This is promising, in this scenario Davina is Klaus holding power over the powerless, and Van Nguyen is Davina taking a stand. Very interesting, until she gets shunned in the seventh episode. What was the point? The next time we see her she is distraught at her current predicament, but not because she’s cut off from her people and her ancestors because now she doesn’t have the power to bring Kol back (of course it’s for no other reason). I just don’t understand why Davina was relegated to a side character in the later seasons after all she did in season one. They couldn’t have cut anything else from 3a (Tristan and Aurora perhaps, they were so boring)? Finally, we have her characterization after she resurrected Kol, nothing. She does nothing but wait in the wings for Kol to finish helping his family, a family she hated and had every right to. She either does nothing, or is only around to help with Kol’s sudden curse, and yet Kol is supposed to be worse. I know, I know, the big bad Kol Mikaelson became a lost puppy chasing after Davina, but so was she. They were just as bad as each other, two puppies chasing the tail of the other. Then she died, to push forward the plot around her. If you think that’s treating her like a plot device, let’s fast forward to season four. Davina Claire, harvest girl, rebellious teen, former queen regent of New Orlean witches, is a piece of leverage to control Kol. I’m done. There’s not much to say about season five, she only shows up to spout information and that’s about it.

It’s a sad end that Davina doesn’t even get an epilogue in the finale (I mean I have many problems with the finale regardless but I digress). Our only conclusion is that she lives happily ever after with her immortal boyfriend. Oh yeah! They never explain that caveat. She’s a mortal witch who will eventually die of old age, and he’s an original. I’m either supposed to assume Davina becomes a vampire (which would be the most out of character thing for her to do considering she hates vampires and loves her magic), which would mean women making personal sacrifices while the man doesn’t have to give up a thing (such a wonderful lesson we keep telling young women), or Kol became mortal by maybe also taking the cure with Rebekah (which makes a bit more sense since we know Kol misses doing magic). The point is, we don’t know, cause they don’t explain anything.

Look Davina wasn’t the perfect character, but she deserved so much better than what she became, and the worst part is this is barely talked about. Like I said, when people hate on kolvina, they approach it from “they ruined Kol!” And not really mentioning Davina. You’ll notice I mention Kol’s characterization, but I’m not going in depth. That’s cause you can easily find a more articulated response on how they did Kol dirty without having to look too hard, but Davina? She needs all the shoutouts she can get. Cami is overhated, and Davina is ignored. That’s two female regulars in the cast being treated terribly by the community and I will not stand for it! I wanna see Davina Claire deserves better cause she did.

To wrap up a very long post, we need to talk about Davina more, when I said season three was better than tvd I wasn’t referring to 3a, justice for the women of the originals, happy pride month, I’ll try to post more frequently.

#davina claire #anti kolvina #kol mikaelson #the originals #season 3a is wasted opportunity period #Davina Claire deserves better #she really does #women of the originals #klaus mikaelson #elijah mikaelson #rebekah mikaelson #finn mikaelson #the mikaelsons #marcel gerard #wasted female friendships

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vesuvian-american-fics · 3 years

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better with time. Ch 14

change your mind.

Your future with the scouts is decided, along with new duties! (AO3)

Words: 2,390

You sighed shakily on the other side of the doors, three curious cadets eyeing you over.

“Let's get back to work guys.” You said, and without another word the four of you were sweeping, dusting, and mopping in silence. Just as you were wrapping up in the kitchen, Erwin appeared in the doorway asking for you. Jean pointed in the direction of the kitchen doors as you were pulling them open.

Your brows raised in question but Erwin’s character wouldn’t allow him to answer you just yet, instead he simply opened the canteen door wider prompting you to step through and follow him down the hall. The silence was heavy, the only noise being your collective footfalls. Erwin turned his head in your direction, smiling down at you.

“I heard about your experience from the other day, how are you feeling?” He waited patiently for your response, watching the way you were sputtering trying to quickly get your words out.

“I-I’m okay now, glad to be up and about cleaning for once. Heh.” You chuckled awkwardly, his face remained unchanging.

“Glad to hear it. Step into my office.” With that he opened his heavy office door, and inside Levi and Hange were still present, the latter turning in their chair to face you.

“Ohh, Y/N!” They said, pleased with your appearance.

“Don’t act so surprised Four Eyes, we’ve only been talking about what to do with her for the last three hours.” Levi grunted, a tired look to his eyes. They flicked in your direction for only a moment before watching as Erwin took his seat behind his desk.

“So, let’s get to the point, shall we? Y/N we’ll continue our research of course, only this time Eren Jeager will be attending. We’ll use what we know about him to help you tap into whatever titan abilities you may have. There are many things we need to test for, you see, Hange if you will.” Erwin prompted. Hange turned to where you sat flipping through their notes to explain what they all know about titans from previous work with Eren and experience outside the walls.

“First, we tested to see if you could transform. That’s still up in the air, with that comes healing and regeneration...” Hange paused to gage your reaction, you looked puzzled.

“Regeneration? What do you mean?”

“Think of it like this, brat... If I cut off your arm now, will it grow back tomorrow?” Levi questioned, his tone seemed threatening but you couldn’t tell if you should actually be worried or not. You swallowed loudly, your hand coming to rub comfortingly against your forearm.

“E-eh! But no worries Y/N! That won’t happen! We do have to test it but we won't take any limbs, or even any phalanges!! Just a cut to your palm to see how fast you heal, titans and shifters heal much faster than normal humans from what we’ve seen.” They continued to explain, you masked your nausea with forced determination.

They need to know, and the more they know the quicker this can be over. Not that you know what will happen to you after all of this.

“And if you can shift, can you move during the nighttime, because most cannot. How did you manage to regain your humanity? Are there others like you? Can you communicate with them? These are things we need to know.” Erwin added, his blue eyes floating over your face, taking in your features. Visibly scared and reluctant, a storm in your eyes.

"Basically, if you're of any use or are you worthless." Levi added flatly.

“But the good news is, we’re still the only ones that know about you. You’re safe here, Y/N. We’re not planning on letting anyone know of your existence until we know wall that there is to know. The others can be...” Erwin searched for the word in his mind before Levi cut in.

“Idiotic? Useless? Dimwitted? They wanted to cut the other brat open when they found out about him.” Levi said, crossing on leg over the other.

“The others?” You asked, your lips were parted in astonishment. Cut him open?

“The military police and the church.” He replied matter of factly, noting your bewilderment.

“Thats exactly why we want to keep things under wraps before they catch word. They don’t have experience with titans so their fear takes hold and they become irrational. They’d sooner kill you before hearing you out.” Erwin said, lacing his fingers together on his desk. This was a lot to take in. Things were more complicated than you had previously presumed, but even still what did you expect? You know nothing of these people and their society. All you have ever known was this one base.

You heaved a shaking sigh before shifting uncomfortably in your seat. Hange. Levi, and Erwin all exchanged quick glances before changing the topic of conversation.

“Well, I have good news, Y/N!” Hange cooed, wrapping their arm over your shoulder and pulling you close. The cloud of negativity in your head instantly dissipated at the contact.

“What is it?” You asked, curiosity prickling your skin.

“I feel bad only seeing you clean and get hurt here, so I got permission to let you help out in the kitchen at meal times! You can help cook!”

“Really?” You glanced between Hange and Erwin, who only smiled in response.

“I think I'd love to cook... t-thank you so much.” You said, suddenly feeling like a part of your character revolved around cooking and eating with your family, though the full memory eludes you still. Levi scoffed, folding his arms together.

“We don’t eat human meat around here, if I find even a single finger in my soup--” He was quickly cut off by Hange’s boisterous laughter.

“Lighten up Levi! This’ll be good for Y/N.” Hange said, giving you a squeeze before heading for the door. Levi’s eyes narrowed at Hange’s words before they slid over to you. Your smile, your eyes looking soft and appreciative. Your bottom lip trembled for only a moment before you sharply inhaled and lifted your head.

“Follow me Y/N! I’ll show you the food we got!” Hange said and you followed their lead. Levi hadn’t noticed but his frown instantly vanished the moment he saw you almost brought to tears by this new job for you. Erwin always the one with sharp eyes for these things hummed to himself in thought.

“How are things?” He asked, bringing Levi back down to earth.

“Tiring. She used to be insufferable, utterly a chore to be around.” Levi complained, surveying his nail beds to keep from making eye contact with his Commander.

“Used to be?” Erwin asked, a playful lilt to his words. Levi’s brow twitched before he stood to take his leave, wordlessly.

...

For dinner that night, tomato soup with bread. Unlike what the cooks for the evening were used to, you added cream to the soup and other seasonings you found collecting dust.

“OOOOH! WHO’S ON KITCHEN DUTY? I need to hug them!” Sasha announced, shedding euphoric tears at the unusual, yet delicious flavor. The other young cadets exchanged cautious looks before simultaneously taking a small spoonful of the soup into their mouths.

The table fell silent as they assessed the flavor, then the next second only the sounds of spoons, slurping, and blissful sighs could be heard. The squad leader table, consisting of Levi, Hange, Miche, Moblit, and Erwin watch as their cadets chow down.

“Bunch of pigs...” Levi comments, he turns his attention to Hange who he finds eating just as monstrously as the cadets. He groans eyeing his soup over; he glances to Erwin who just finished his first bite. He gives a delighted hum at the food before dipping in his spoon for another. Miche sniffs, a smile forming on his face. He and Moblit dig in leaving only Levi who hasn’t tasted yet.

Having finished cleaning up in the kitchen, you joined their table with a bowl filled with your own soup. You felt giddy hearing the way Sasha and Connie whined for more food.

“Do you like it?” You asked Levi, seeing as how he didn’t seem to be having as much of an outward reaction as everyone else. Your eyes caught a glimpse of his spoon, completely clean. You couldn’t fight the way your shoulders dropped seeing that he hadn’t even tasted it yet.

“Oh... well, I hope you like it.” You said before grabbing your spoon and taking your first bite. Your lips curled into a satisfied smile before you went for another, and then a third. Levi couldn’t deny that it smelled nice and fresh, different from when regular cadets had their turn to scrape something together.

Levi gave his soup one last look before finally dipping his spoon in and taking it to his lips. You waited with bated breath for his commentary. The two of you used to butt heads a lot, but something in you wanted his approval on mundane things. Maybe it was that you wanted him to think differently of you. Maybe it was something else.

Seeing as you weren't going to take silence for an answer, with the way you even ventured to scoot closer to him, Levi felt pressured to respond. He sighed dramatically, rolling his head on his shoulders in agitation.

“It’s edible.” He said, cocking his brow at you, daring you to complain. You snorted at the comment before returning to your soup and he did the same in silence. It was really good, but his pride wouldn’t allow him to admit that it’s the best thing he’d eaten in a long time.

“Y/N were you a chef in a past life or something?” Hange asked, not realizing the unintentional gravity of their question, but you ignored the painful throb it gave your heart.

“I’m not sure, haha.” You replied wearily, your chuckle was forced and there was no smile to your eyes. It wasn’t Hange’s fault, you desperately wanted to remember who you were. Or, at least, you quickly wanted to make peace with the fact that you may never know. Moblit gave Hange a soft nudge with his elbow, nodding in your direction. Hange noticed you looked sad for a moment, but quickly deflected the growing melancholy.

“I’m glad you liked the food! I had to learn how to work a lot of the things back there, but once I did, I had a lot of fun. Got my mind off things for a few hours.” You said, a sad smile on your lips, but a genuine one. The table fell silent for a moment but it was interrupted by Levi standing from his seat.

“Meet me outside.”

Your brows knitted together in confusion at the order, but nevertheless, after you deposited your bowl and his at the sink in the kitchen you did as you were told. You met him outside where he kept his back to you. Next to him sat a few buckets and scrubbing brushes. More chores. Great.

“You’re not as troublesome as you used to be. Today was your last day of cleaning duty. I'm upgrading you to stable duty. Keep ‘em clean and orderly how I like.” That didn’t sound like much of a gift, but you were happy to not need to clean the entire kitchen all the time anymore.

“Take care of the horses, feed and water them, brush ‘em out all of that. It’s dirty work, but I imagine you’ll enjoy the horse's company.” He said, finally turning to face you. He stalked forward to you, closer than he has ever been before. Reading the situation completely wrong your heart fluttered in your chest, your cheeks burning at the sudden proximity.

“The horses are important and vital to scouting missions. You mess up, you’re done. That’s it.”

“O-okay! Thank you, Captain!”

“Don’t call me that...”

“Thank you, Levi!” You corrected instantly, sweat beading at your brow. You don’t understand why now you were so insecure in Levi’s presence but, that’s something you’ll put to the back of your mind for now. This was a big job requiring a lot of trust from him, the fruits of your labor.

“There's only three things you need to worry about now. Cooking, shoveling horse shit, and getting Erwin results from your titan experiments. So, get it done.”

You nodded in response and with that, he left you to get acquainted with the horses. You watched as he disappeared inside, you turned on your heel and when rounding the corner there they were. The stables were modest, just wood and nail constructed to house a fleet of horses. On the inside, it was dirty. Very dirty . Whoever’s job it was to clean this before were obviously lacking in discipline you thought. You whined but before getting yourself dirty making this place clean, you met the horses.

The horses farthest to the end was Levi’s, a huge stallion with marvelous shiny black fur. A luscious mane, and kind eyes. You smiled at the horse, offering your hand for it to sniff. It huffed at you before lowering its head for you to caress.

“Your rider makes me nervous. How do you work with him so well?” The horse whinnied in response making you laugh.

“Look, I’m not sure if I’m afraid of him or just desperate for his faith. But it’s doing a number on my nerves either way.” The horse neighed loudly, swishing its tail back and forth.

“Don’t laugh at me! I’m serious! One moment he’s mean and intimidating, the next it’s like he kind of thinks I’m tolerable. Like I’m his friend at least sometimes!” You pressed your forehead to the horse's snout before humming to yourself.

“Well, horsey, next time you see him, tell him to give me a break. Now let's get this place cleaned up."

Outside the stable, Levi listened as you retrieved the rake and began shoveling the hay around. His arms were folded over his chest, his once knitted brows softening as his eyes shifted to his feet at the ground. He had come to tell you not to bother with brushing out his horse, in fear that it wouldn’t be up to his standards but...

He thinks his horse is in good hands now.

#better with time.#levi ackerman #levi #levi x reader #aot #snk #attack on titan

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lennydaisy · 3 years

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SWAN SONG || The Walking Dead AU || CHAPTER ONE.

‘You have to trust that every friendship has no end, that a communion of saints exists among all those, living and dead, who have truly loved God and one another.

You know from experience how real this is. Those you have loved deeply and who have died live on in you, not just as memories but as real presences.’

HENRI NOUWEN

The Walking Dead.

Season 1-?

FEM OC! and ?

Enjoy :) and here is the link to the PROLOGUE!

College. Something I never went to. Sure the thought was there. The ideas to get my diploma and possibly becoming a doctor sounded like a great idea. Until I hit senior year of high school. That was when I realised that maybe I'm not meant for school. Sitting in a classroom wasn't my ideal cup of tea, but I stuck it through high school because I was determined to not become a high school drop out.

When I was in high school it was as though everybody had already figured out what they were going to when they took their first steps into the big, bad world. I was never like that. I left high school and I felt lost. I had no clue what I wanted to do. I convinced myself that I was a disappointment to my family because everybody instantly knew what career path they wanted to pursue and I didn't.

I felt that way until I joined the police academy, a year after I left high school. I was in a real slump, applying to anything and everything, I wasn't getting anywhere until Ally suggested the police force. I instantly declined, not believing that I had any chance of making it. I wasn't the most physically active, any chance I got to skip gym class I grabbed with two hands, but the Police Academy was tempting. I wanted to challenge myself and also prove to all the people who thought I couldn't do it wrong.

And I'm glad I did. Joining the P.D was by far the best decision I made in my life. I found myself as a person. I went from being this shy, delicate flower to an independent and determined individual.

Just because I didn't go to college doesn't mean I didn't experience what's it's like to be a typical college student. I attend my fair share of parties, not that I enjoyed them but I still went to please Corey who didn't want to go alone because apparently, that's embarrassing. Aside from the parties, I don't understand why people stick it through college, sure a degree is a good excuse but honestly is any college student happy? Judging by the faces passing by my car the answers no.

My mind is still on autopilot from what had happened not even a half-hour ago. The scene still vivid in my mind, like a record, stuck on repeat, it won't leave me alone. Maybe if I hadn't rushed her out the door then she would still be here, at home with her husband, happy. Her husband. I've ruined a family-

My thoughts being abruptly stopped by the sound of knuckles furiously knocking on the only rolled up window. Moving my drooping eyes to the source only to be met by the slightly annoyed face of my sister Cora. Leaning over to push down the lock, I'm smacked in the face with the humid Atlanta heat.

"About time, I've been knocking for five minutes," she exclaims holding the door open, entering the car. Only humming in response, repositioning myself in the driver seat, staring deadly out the window, "Wow, what's up?" She asked instantly knowing something's off.

"What? Why would anything be up?" Shaking my head, trying to focus on now and not the past, "Oh I don't know maybe you burning a hole into my school with your eyes or the fact that you haven't acknowledged Maggie in the back seat." She states with that smart tone that I love oh so much.

Swirling round in my seat, I met with the contagious smile of Maggie Greene. She a delightful one. A pure soul who could honestly do no wrong, and yet somehow she's best friends with Cora. The pair are polar opposites, like two peas from completely different pods but it somehow makes sense. Cora is like a hyperactive puppy whereas Maggie is a house cat. Maggie keeps Cora grounded. Without Maggie, I don't even want to know where Cora would be.

When Cora first started college she got in with the wrong crowd. She started to miss important family events; like our weekly game of family-friendly monopoly. Cora wasn't Cora anymore, she was someone new, she was trying hard to become something she wasn't. That's until she met Maggie. Apparently, Maggie went through something similar, I don't know all the details, that's a secret between them. All I know is that they met in the student car park at night completely shitfaced with no way to get home. It all came from that singular moment of stupidity, and I'm glad it did because I've already 'lost' one sister, I don't need to lose another.

"Hi Maggie, sorry just had a weird day at work," I half lied, staring up the car again driving out of the almost desert car park, "The farm?" I asked, knowing where to drop her off having done it a couple of times.

"Don't worry about it Macy, we all have our days, and yes please if you don't mind," her southern accent radiating through the car, a genuine smile covering her face meeting at her eyes. Nodding my head, my eyes training back on the road but my mind and eyes can't help but wonder. It was only a few miles back that I saw those things from the news, they could be lurking around here too.

"You will not believe what Ashton said to me today," Cora said, kicking her feet up on the dash of my car, her hand sitting comfortably behind her head. "Oh please do tell," taking one hand off the wheel to push her dirty Dc. Martens on my beloved car.

Scoffing as her feet slap against the floor of my car, y'know where a normal passenger's feet are supposed to go, "He said, 'i think we should see different people', and I was like 'why', and he said, get a load of this, 'I just don't think it's working out'. Yeah no shit it's not working out, he never calls me, never texts me, and that's the first time he has ever spoken to me in school," leaning towards the cool air drifting through the window as she rants about her love life.

"Ashton a grade-A douche, I pretty sure we've had this conversation every time I pick you up," I state as the boredom begin to consume me at the ritual of Cora's love life discussion coming up once again. Looking in the rearview mirror I see Maggie nodding her head in agreement, "I agree, out of all the guys in our school you choose Ashton," she gags making a yuck sound, her face scrunching up at the thought of her best friends boyfriend.

"It's kind of your fault y'know," I laughed as she sided eyed me, "you met a guy called Ashton and expected him to what? sweep you off your feet?"

"She's got a point," Maggie pointed out hiding her laughter better than me, "No she doesn't!" Exclaimed Cora as she turns around to fully face Maggie in the back middle seat, "what about your love life huh, oh yeah it doesn't exist," she sassed hands crossed over her chest, a smirk on her face as though proud of her very mediocre remark.

Shaking my head at my sister's antics, "Maggie will meet a guy when she's ready too. Just because she not actively looking doesn't mean it will never happen. And I bet when she does meet someone, he'll be a million times better than Ashton or any of those other guys you've been with."

"Thank you, Macy," I hear her quietly responded, shyness overtaking her voice at my comment. Not being able to hide my smile at the innocent girl behind me and the slightly ticked off girl beside me, "um hello! You're supposed to be on my side-," Cora's voice shuts off to a silent whisper. Confused at her sudden change of tone, I glance her way. Her eyes trained directly out the front window, never blinking.

Trying to find what she was looking for wasn't hard. It's them. Only a few, 2 male and 1 woman, a couple of meters away from my travelling car. These are different, they're nothing like the ones I encountered earlier. The ones from before were coming towards me at an agonising walking pace, these ones however are running, running extremely fast.

Cora's heavy breath begins to fill the car, as Maggie mutters incoherent words. I however am static, this wasn't just a one time encounter. In the space of not even an hour, I've seen a dozen of these people. The government has issued official reports telling us, the public, that's there is absolutely nothing to worry about and they have this all under control. At first, I believed that, but now with these thing sprinting towards my car, I'm beginning to beg to differ.

"Um, Macy drive. Macy, please drive!" A panicked Cora heaves in my ear. Judging from my previous encounter, fight or flight is not an option right now. Not until I fully understand what these things are.

My tires make the all to familiar shrieking against the warm tar, with nowhere else to go but straight through the few in the middle of the road. The sound of the dead weight hitting the bonnet of my car before flying over the top was like nothing I've heard before. It's sounded sickening. A mixture of bones clashing and screams. A horrific sight and sound.

The car stayed in utter silence until I pulled up to the Greene farm, to where none of us dared to move a muscle. You could hear a pin drop over the sounds of slightly irregular breathing. The beating sun shining through the front window causing the car to feel more insufferable.

"That's those things from the new isn't it?" Asked Cora quietly as though scared to break the silence. Having not enough courage in my voice to reply, I just simply nod, "that's why you had a weird day at work, wasn't it?" She asked again, this time staring at me but I refuse to meet her eyes only nodding again. Hearing the shaky breath from behind me and the sound of the door opening, snapped me back to reality.

Looking out through Cora's window, I see a slouched Maggie struggling to keep her balance. Pulling my lips into a tight smile, "Be safe," I said gently toward the shaken up girl. Muster up a nod she replies, "you too, the both of you," before turning round to met her sister Beth at the porch. Seeing the pleasant girl brought a smile to my face as I waved back to the gleeful youngest Greene.

Once Maggie was safely inside her farmhouse that's when I pulled away, only to have something at the corner of my eye catch my attention. Hershel, Maggie's father, walking away from the slightly beat barn. In his hands some sort of animal handling pole. Nothing unusually really, Hershel is a vet but that's not what's concerning. The glooming blood dripping slightly off the loop is however concerning.

"Hey Mr Greene," greeted Cora, her voice still failing her a little. Laughing at the younger girls formalities, "how many time have I told you to call me Hershel," he said walking closer to the car, a cloth in hand as he tried to discreetly clean the pole in his hands, but the deed was already done, I had already seen it.

"A couple more times should do the trick," she tries to joke, wanting to forget what had just happened. Luckily enough Hershel doesn't notice the pressed bloody handprints of the front and sides of my car, as he leans to see me at the driver's seat, "Thank you for dropping our Maggie off again Macy, it really means a lot."

"Don't sweat it. Didn't want her travelling back home herself especially now with the mess that's all over the news," a sharp inhale from Cora causes me to reach over, comfortingly grabbing her sweaty hands in my own, rubbing the backs for her hands softly.

"Ah yes, I did see that. I'm sure its nothing to worry about," he waves his hand slightly, looking over his shoulder at the barn he had just left. I frowned my eyebrows at the elder's change in body language; his wondering eyes and shuffling feet are causing me to doubt the man's knowledge of the current situation.

"Better safe than sorry I guess," I dismiss getting ready to drive off again, "I suppose you're right," his voice becoming harder to hear with him no longer facing me. The sound of my engine starting up again is what snaps him in our direction, "Well Thank you again, have a good day," he farewelled beginning to make his leave, walking up the same creaking steps to the porch.

Before he could catch the door handle, I yell, "Hey Hershel," catching his attention, "Be safe," only to receive a simple nod before he descended into his home. Home.

"Let go home," I exhale tapping my sister leg, catching her teary eyes, "we'll be fine."

I don't know who I was trying to reassure, Cora or myself, but with what has been going on recently, I think everybody could use a bit of reassuring.

This is quite a short chapter but I need to start somewhere right? If you took the time to read this, Thank you! and I hope that you liked it :)

I might start a taglist for this au, so if you would be interested in being tagged when I post for this au then just message me or comment to let me know!

I’m going to try and post chapter two later today hopefully too :))

DAISY.

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kondo-hijikata · 4 years

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Relationship: Kondo/Hijikata Rating: T Summary: Kondo has been promoted to hatamoto status, and the Shinsengumi members are at last recognized as true samurai by the Tokugawa regime. Such impossible achievements didn't come easy, but Hijikata isn't worried about that at all. This story was heavily influenced by the Shinsengumi! Taiga drama. [AO3]

.*Out of Love*.

A warm breeze of triumph whispered through trees dusted in pink, their delicate petals pulled from dainty branches and sent on a downward drift to meticulously maintained castle grounds. The shoji had been open since morning, inviting the height of spring into a great room of golden tatami and elegant decoration befitting the Aizu lord—who sat proud and tall before two loyal servants bowing their heads in his grace.

“Kondo.” The Shinsengumi Commander’s chin lifted at the sound of his name, finding the genial smile that pulled at Matsudaira’s lips as he nodded. “Open it.”

“Ha.” Reaching for the pearly scroll which rested in formal presentation in front of him, Kondo carefully unfurled a message written in sweeping ornate penmanship, and the deep breath which followed was all he could manage to keep his composure.

“His Highness Tokugawa recognizes your irreplaceable devotion to his great cause, Kondo.”

Slowly, Kondo’s eyes rose from the parchment he now gripped tightly, his heart beginning to pound the ribcage enclosing it. The scroll was neatly returned to its original rolled state, and he bowed his head deeply while blinking back the emotion threatening to swallow him whole. “I humbly express my sincerest gratitude for this undeserved recognition. There is no greater honor than serving the Gokogi.”

Matsudaira’s gaze was soft and pleasant as he regarded Kondo, and behind him Hijikata, each with their foreheads remaining lowered. “You have done well.”

The outer castle corridors were comprised of dark fragrant wood, forever polished by the frequency in which they saw cleaning. Socked feet glided fast along the smooth floors, until Kondo suddenly stopped and turned to the sprawling stretch of plant life and silver rock that extended far to high ivory walls. Following suit, Hijikata joined him in this pause, and both remained side-by-side in a fragile state of silence. The brimming excitement practically begged to be voiced, else each risked the heart detonating in his chest. Alas, the setting didn’t match, and all that could be done was attempt swallowing the visceral desires to scream joy into the heavens and flail about like they were back in Tama.

Water trickled in the distance, filling a bamboo pipe until it upended and tapped a stone with a single stark clank. Invited by this break in quietude, Hijikata pushed his chest out with a deep breath and ventured one word. “Kyokucho.”

Kondo’s gaze drifted to him, their eyes meeting and conveying more than spoken language ever could in this perfect moment of long-sought victory. He exhaled in an overly controlled manner and tipped his head. “Fukucho.”

“…We did it.”

Kondo squared his shoulders and peered back out to the cascading foliage. “…Yes.”

“We’re finally samurai…” A pause, the emotion welling. “In spirit and in name.”

A large hand raised to press to the parchment secured in ceremonial kimono confines. “Yes.” It wasn’t long before Kondo turned his head, the exhilaration that had been coursing through his veins like wildfire reaching a critical point where drowning it even a second further was insufferable. “Toshi.”

Hijikata’s grin widened at his name, his lashes parting a little more. And that was all it took.

Breath expelled from Kondo’s lungs as they simultaneously lunged forward in the privacy of this stretch of porch, their arms thrown about each other in a tight embrace, while each man’s jubilant laughter fell muted against his companion’s haori-clad shoulder.

“Kat-chan!” Open palms pressed tightly to his back, fingertips flexing inward with possession.

Kondo withdrew only far enough to take Hijikata’s biceps firm in his grasp and, the perfect portrait of absolute bliss, gave his second in command a stiff shake. “Toshi, we did it!”

Hijikata wore his own elation just as openly, his gaze prideful and vehement when a tremble shook his body. He leaned his forehead in, his teeth clenching and through them, he grated out, “Samurai!”

“Let’s get back. We’ll—” Kondo’s features somehow brightened even further and his spine straightened in sudden consideration. “We’ll have a big dinner tonight, no cost spared. Ne?”

With his lashes falling, Hijikata huffed a laugh. If this were any other time, he might suggest restraint; despite that the treasury certainly had the money for an extensive celebration, they were both country men with roots deep in frugality and had arrived in Kyoto possessing little more than the swords on their hips. But here they stood now, samurai—true, Tokugawa-recognized samurai!—openly embracing on Matsudaira-ko’s property with nothing other than auspicious days ahead. Kondo’s influence would only increase, the wealth would flow in faster, and the Shinsengumi’s fame would ripple resoundingly over a land deeply divided.

His eyes opened and all he could do was dip his chin in agreement to dinner—extravagant, yes, but more than deserved. “Mm.”

Kondo held to Hijikata’s arms for a little longer before he at last nodded again in return, wide eyes and grin never fading. “Toshi! Let’s get going!”

As they quickly made their way out of the castle presented to Matsudaira by Tokugawa’s own graces, Hijikata never thought he’d see a happier day in his life. Once on the road, he peered back at the impressive structure for a moment of reflection as petals fell lazily in the wind, his thoughts taking him back to a time when meeting with the Aizu lord was nothing but a distant dream. Eyes closing, a tiny satisfied smile gracing him.

"Toshi."

"Aa." His lashes parted again to find Kondo, the most central and important piece of everything. Hijikata's gaze softened further. "Coming."

Sake flowed like rivers and the platters of food seemed endless over joyous celebration in the ranks. Harada’s stomach was painted, his failed seppuku scar a perfect mouth for the ridiculous face Nagakura had drawn, and he belly-danced while soldiers laughed, eating and drinking their fill late into the night.

Far away from the drunken singing and raucous, Kondo sat on the porch before his room with Hijikata at his side, a large near-empty bottle sitting behind them on a circular tray.

Pink flush had long made its way across Hijikata’s cheeks, and from the way he was feeling, Kondo wagered his own didn’t look much different. He pressed the sakazuke cup to his mouth and tilted his head back with a gulp, then exhaled loudly.

“Mm, Kat-chan.” Not missing a beat, Hijikata reached for the sake and held it out. “Here.”

The throaty laugh that left Kondo was accompanied by raising his cup yet again. “Tryin’ to get me drunk, Toshi?”

A snort followed and Hijikata’s voice was airy. “Reminder that this was your idea.” The purr that followed emanated deep from within his chest. “…Kyokucho.” He tilted the bottle until the last drop poured out, and set it back down out of the way.

“Right.” Kondo’s chin raised and he swallowed it all in one go, owning up to the responsibility.

“’Taku…” Though it was a complaint, Hijikata wore a grin. He sipped from his cup and let his lashes fall as insects sang in the garden and fireflies sparkled amongst moonlit leaves.

Kondo’s lips pulled into a soft smile as well and he treated himself to a deep inhale through his nose. The nights were growing warmer, similar to how the future had been becoming more and more bright while days passed and seasons changed. They’d made it through a long and grueling winter, scraping by for every bit of respect and renown to be earned here in the west. Then came a cool spring that turned warm with the Ikedaya incident, and finally, the verge of a scorching summer loomed, in which gold would rain down instead of sunlight.

To be sitting on the porch of Nishi Honganji at this time with a plethora of trust and wealth encompassing them, with weight to their names and sanctified status as real samurai… Kondo breathed out into the clear night and let his spine relax. It was the furthest cry from the ages he’d spent at his childhood home in Kamiishihara, listening to the stories his father told of Kanko and other great heroes who had gone out to do the unbelievable. How he’d wanted to be like them, and how he’d dreamed.

But farmers becoming samurai were just as remarkable, weren’t they? And the Shinsengumi, itself… A group marred by disorganization in its early days and looked down the nose by everyone around them, growing into a force this powerful was simply unheard of in these times. Transcending classes was an absurd notion. Commoners didn’t pull weight. Men of the land didn’t have the ear of Matsudaira-ko, or the recognition of the Tokugawa regime. Yet, Kondo did and the group of men he led commanded respect and recognition.

How could any of this possibly be real?

He already knew the answer without searching...had known it for the longest time.

Kondo found Hijikata at that, watching while his second in command rocked gently in place with his eyes still closed, a small grin still worn across his features.

“Toshi…” he whispered.

“Ain’t gonna be long now,” Hijikata sighed out, the corners of his lips twitching a little further into his cheeks. One set of lashes parted and he peered over. “First, a hatamoto. Next, a daimyo. Soon.”

“Toshi…it’s enough.”

“Hey.” The soft and breathy voice turned serious, and Hijikata looked at him pointedly. “I promised you daimyo status, Kat-chan.” His palm hit the porch to drive his sincerity home. “We’re not stopping at you being a hatamoto. Don’t even start.”

Kondo’s hand raised and he pressed fingertips to Hijikata’s mouth. Once he quieted, it moved to cup his cheek, the thumb grazing gently across and he barely squinted. “But at what cost?”

The shoulders of his vice commander inched up into a dismissive shrug. “Anything at all.” He shook his head then. “Whatever it takes, Kat-chan, whatever the cost.” Signaling the end of the discussion, Hijikata finished his sake and placed his cup on the tray.

Whatever it took, whatever the cost…? The burdens of Serizawa, the weight of command… the five tenets and enforcing them, even if it meant seppuku—even if it meant shouldering all of the blame and resentment… The hard decisions, the dedication, the forcing of his hand with torture and threats, the hours upon hours of work… All this, just to be satisfied with existing in someone else’s shadow…

Hijikata picked up on the silent thoughtfulness and his brow furrowed. “What—?”

That question he’d started was interrupted by Kondo’s lips meeting his softly, palms rising to cup his cheeks. The kiss deepened and their tongues met as Hijikata grabbed hold of him, and then by either no one’s or everyone’s fault, both tumbled to the porch floor.

Kondo’s face hit gently against Hijikata’s chest on the impact, his arms immediately wrapping around his middle in a tight embrace. The hands that had landed on his shoulder linked fingers behind his neck and ran up and down in short stroking motions.

“Toshi…” An exhale. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

With his eyes closing, Kondo exhaled. Of course that would be the reply, when he felt he could never express the gratitude he felt enough. “For everything.”

Hijikata’s voice rumbled softly over the steady thumping of his heartbeat. “There’s nothing—” A hiccup. “Nothing to thank me for, Kat-chan.”

Kondo shook his head against the purple-clad breast and braced against the porch, pushing himself up and then forward so that his nose nearly touched Hijikata’s. He stroked a burning cheek, wound a finger through a long black lock…and simply relented. His vice commander couldn’t be reasoned with on this subject when he was sober, and now that he had sake in him—now that they both did…

“We’ll keep going, Toshi,” Kondo murmured, his lashes falling halfway as he gazed into amethyst eyes rife with reverence. He was certain his own were but mirrors. “All the way.” Their noses touched in a brief nuzzle. “As long as you’re with me.”

Hijikata’s head tilted as though that last statement had been perplexing, the hair from his ponytail splaying out beneath him. His fingers crept up to touch Kondo’s face and he paused before whispering his response. “Always.”

Their lips met again, their hands entwining tightly. He may have been in a relatively dazed state from the sake, but Kondo knew then—as he always had—that the responsibility was his own to stop Hijikata from destroying himself all for his sake. It was said that the bond between samurai ran deeper than the ocean and further than the sky. As he pressed kisses to the samurai he shared such a bond with, to his jaw and then down his neck, Kondo silently promised it was a mutual vow, that his love was just as fathomless and his devotion equally as fervent.

One day, he’d fulfill these debts that had accumulated on his soul. At some time, he would be able to give to Hijikata as much as he’d received, and reciprocate as much as what had been sacrificed, only for him.

But for right now…

When Kondo felt hands pulling at his garments, he stood slowly and helped Hijikata to his feet. They both stumbled the few steps to his room, and the shoji clapped shut.

All Kondo could do at this moment was settle to give Hijikata everything he wanted, and anything he would possibly take. And he would give it to him freely, all out of love: tonight, tomorrow, next year, and on—for as long as he was able, for as much as he could.

#uss enterplaid #toshisami #konhiji #hakuouki #t1 #writing on plaid paper #long post

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fallenhero-rebirth · 5 years

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Ortega romance snippet 3

Home sick, feeling soft and filled with emotions so here you go.

Especially for @kissingagrumpygiant

f!Sidestep, m!Ortega not safe for work, but very soft and slightly spoilerish.

"We need some ground rules." You break the kiss, breathless with longing, you're falling too far, too fast but why not? You're going to hit the ground sooner or later so why not on top of him?

"Sure." Ortega's voice is hushed, as if he's afraid that every word might break whatever spell you have been wearing. How many years now? Standing on the edge and never falling.

"No lights."

"But..."

"That's the rule... take it or leave it. You can touch me but you can't see me." Your eyes are hard, part of you wanting him to back off, to be uncomfortable with your demands, with the way you set your limits, unreasonable, absolute, unexplained.

"If you want that," his smile has turned soft, brows pulled together in a slightly worried frown but any questions remain unasked. "I want you to be comfortable."

Your face twitches, the joking insult on your lips unsaid. He has no right to be this soft, to look at you as if he's afraid you'll turn into smoke and drift through his fingers. You're not a cloud, you're obsidian, cutting anything that ever touches you and you landed him in the hospital and yet he keeps coming back.

He doesn't know...

"The bedroom then." Neutral words, but your voice betrays your unspoken thoughts, a shiver, a blade at your throat and he takes your hand and leads you to your execution.

You've been in here before, many times, but never like this, never with the intent that the bed is more than a place to throw things on, or help him down on when he's been hurt.

How did you survive those days? Watching him strip off his shirt with a curse because there was nothing between you, just friends, nothing more. Not like the look he gives you now as he pulls down the blinds, and then the thick curtains made to shut out even the slightest hint of light. You don't keep regular hours as one of the Rangers, but you still need to sleep.

He doesn't look like he's been sleeping well lately, but to be fair, neither have you.

Avoiding looking at him, you go to the bedside table, pulling out the cord to the lamp there.

"Hey, isn't that a little unnecessary?" Ortega's smile is fond as he watches you methodically disconnect the light sources in the room.

"I don't trust you, Ricardo." You turn and cross your arms to deliver a glare not really suited to the moment. "I just want to make sure."

"I made a promise." His voice has turned soft. "I respect your boundaries, even if I don't understand them." He's begging you to explain, but you ignore it.

"Good." You close the door behind you, leaning against it, finger on the light switch for the ceiling lights.

"Soo..." he drawls, sauntering over to give you a soft kiss, lips brushing your forehead. "Do you want me to take off my clothes before or after it gets dark?"

"Do you want to show off that badly?" You meant it as teasing, but it becomes an awkward little question, looking up at him because... well, that's Ricardo. And you have been looking. And he has been noticing. "It's hardly fair, though..."

"Since when do you care about fair play?" A teasing grin as he pulls back, looking ten years younger, ten years naughtier. "Or me for that matter?"

"True..." you lean back against the door, crossing your arms. "Go ahead."

You were half expecting him to be joking, or at the very least to look a little self-conscious. You should have known better, Ortega is not someone who is easily fazed, especially not by people looking at him. Even you.

Instead he smiles and pulls off his undershirt, slowly, making a show of it. Was that why he picked white again? For the contrast between that and his skin? You wish you knew what was going on in his head, is he enjoying this? Making you sweat? You bet he is, and as his face is momentarily covered as he struggles out of it, you let your eyes unabashedly run down his chest and stomach, down...

Your cheeks turn hot, and you almost turn the lights off to hide it, but instead you brave your embarrassment, taking in the body in front of you openly for the first time. Too many scars, slightly paler against tanned sepia, the modded connection ports dotting his arms slightly off in color. They never managed to meld the synth-skin perfectly, skin changes over the seasons, the mods do not. Black hair trailing downward....

"Like what you see?" Ortega's voice rouse you from your revelry, and you find him staring back at you, the most insufferably smug look on his face, hands sliding down to hook his thumbs in his belt, making to unbuckle...

You immediately turn the lights, your fingers reacting before your brain does. Who knew that Sidestep reflexes could save you from embarrassment as well as bullets.

"Hey!" Ortega's voice is a flustered laugh, and the room really does get pitch black around you. Good to know.

"Shut up." You take a step forward, using the slight static of his mind to judge his whereabouts. Your hand meets flesh, meets naked chest, meets his hand placed on top of yours.

"Want to help?" he suggests, voice soft in the darkness, sliding your hand downward, following that trail of hair you can't see, only feel underneath your fingertips, the ragged ridge of the scars the Catastrofiend left, another almost death for the man who refuses to lay down and quit. You swallow hard, tracing the slight dip of his navel, his hand guiding you down to his belt.

"Just... give me a moment." You feel lightheaded, breathing too fast and for a moment you think you'll faint right then and there and make an even bigger fool of yourself. Casual touch doesn't come easy to you, even in the darkness, in some ways it makes it worse. Intimate. Warm. You can smell his cologne, close enough that his breaths makes your hair move slightly. A cloud, he called it once, and you immediately rained on his parade for it.

"Take your time." His voice is soft, and his hands pull back, leaving yours free to roam where they want to.

You repay him by running your palm down the front of his slacks, listening to the way his breath hitches, focusing on details, not the whole. That's how you stay in control, stay in the moment. He's stiff, and this time you get to squeeze, get to feel his reaction, the way he mouths the softest little "mierda" you've heard. Encouraged, you unhook his belt, sliding it before dropping it to the ground. It lands softly, the sound muffled by the words he keeps whispering under his breath. Senseless little strings of endearments, mostly in Spanish, interrupted by choked gasps as your hands stray. Should you be afraid? Probably, but right now you just feel deliberate, feeling your way through buttons and zipper, conscious of how you are brushing against his body as the pants slide down. Pants and underwear you are not going through that twice.

"If you trip, I'm not gonna catch you," you whisper as he steps out of the constricting fabric, laughing softly as he almost stumbles. "You've gotten too heavy, old man."

"Hey," he shushes you, his finger somehow finding your lips without poking you in the nose. "Not too old to show you a good time."

"I hope so." You pull him close, naked now, you're still fully clothed. The kiss is awkward, he's too tall and you're too aware what's pressing against your stomach.

"Think we can find the bed?" he jokes, maybe sensing your tension.

"Probably by tripping over it," you say, lips twitching in an unseen smile as you take him by the hand and pulls you in the right direction. "It's too big."

"I like to have a little room to sleep."

"Sleep?"

"You'd be surprised how often that's been the case latel... ow!"

"There is the bed." You give him a shove and listen to him fall, the creak of the bed, the half suppressed laugh as he crawls back a little, making room for you.

Another step. Another first. It was easier to hit him that first time, at the auction. Easier to be angry. Easier to hate.

You're careful when you get in bed with him, the darkness making him invisible to your eyes as well as your mind. Just hearing, touch and smell and right now all three feels charged... the thought makes you snort a little fond laugh, and he joins even if he has no idea what's so funny.

"Can I undress you?" The bed shifts under you like gravity, sinking under his weight, making you lean towards him even if that wasn't your intention.

"Sure," you croak, caught in his orbit, a comet about to crash and end the peace that you have made between you. It's pitch black, he can't see your skin but your heart knows what's there.

It's a quiet little suicide in the dark, allowing him to pull your clothes off with too clever, careful hands. Layer by layer, a helpless laugh as he finds yet another one. You stiffen up and he kisses you until you soften once more, then continues. He's merciless but he doesn't know. He doesn't understand why the darkness is important for you, he doesn't get it why you nearly sob as you feel his hands on your naked skin at last.

Maybe not nearly. You try to blink away the tears.

"Shhhh..." his voice in your ear. "We don't have to go further." You believe him. His voice is filled with questions and pain he's not voicing. He's worried about you.

"Just give me a moment," you whisper back. "This is the hardest part." He won't get it but he tries, you have to give him that. "Hold me?"

Ortega scoops you up in his arms, holding you tightly, tighter than he's ever done before. There's an almost panicked rhythm to his breathing that you recognize as your own, and you start running your fingers down his spine, counting the ports. So many, his spine is a work of art, worth more than a fighter jet and here he is in your arms, holding you like you were worth the moon. Maybe that's true, rock and rubble, you only shine with reflected light.

Maybe that will be enough tonight.

"It's okay," he whispers, and you realize you're crying in his arms, a quiet, soft little sound that's too loud in the darkness. "I won't leave you again."

He lies, and he lies well, because he believes it. He won't leave you, but he doesn't know you anymore. He never did. He doesn't know you and you are so selfish for wanting this, for making the inevitable heartbreak so much harder. Smashed to bits. Pulverized.

And yet somehow you are okay with it. Knowing it will end makes it easier than if you had any hope for a future together.

Taking his face in your hands you kiss him deeply, trying to obliterate anything but the feeling of skin against skin. You are naked in his arms, his hands are running over your skin, over your back. You know he's tracing scars, the same as you, and having an easier time of it. No fancy hospitals for your body, just your own skills, and no need to make it look pretty. You never wanted to look pretty before.

Fuck. You want to now. For him.

The laugh that bubbles up is pure bitter hate, but he doesn't get it, and isn't directed at him, just at yourself and the people that spawned you, unleashed you on the world to break his heart. He doesn't deserve it, he doesn't deserve you.

But he wants you.

"Let's do this," you hiss, because he's ready, and you are desperate to feel something new.

"Shhh don't be so impatient," he teases, and gently lays you down on your back, trapping you under his body. For a brief moment your brain tracks what points to hit to incapacitate him, but then he kisses your collarbone, and nibbles downwards, and all your hands do is tangle in his unruly hair, feeling the way his laugh echoes through his skull. "Let me take my time with you."

"Whatever," you mumble, because your voice betrays you as his lips trail down over your chest. "It tickles," you complain, but the rest is swallowed by an unabashed moan as he trails your nipple with his tongue, sucking it in for a soft bite.

Ortega doesn't play fair, but then you knew that. This is how he pays you back for years of pining.

Years for minutes.

Not a fair exchange, but you're too selfish to complain, his hands tracing lower, every touch making you jump until you've numbed yourself against his skin, set on fire, one stroke at a time. And then his tongue arrives and makes it worse.

Your arms flail out and you grab a pillow, pressing it down over your face, hiding in an even deeper blackness as he gets to work. Not to muffle your vision as much as muffle your sounds. Too many of them, infuriatingly embarrassing, he's too good at that, too much practice your brain insists, but can you blame him for what the world did to the two of you? You never had a chance. You don't have one now.

But you have a moment.

A single one. Just for yourself.

#fallen hero: rebirth #fallen hero spoilers #snippet #not at all safe for work #ortega #mc #written to the playlist I posted earlier

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soveryanon · 5 years

Text

Reviewing time for MAG143 /o/

- Aaaaaand the winner of the Ny-Ålesund mini-arc is… Elias. Which seems to be the Trend of season 4.

(MAG135) ELIAS: Fine. Consider it a test – things are… coming, things that will need Jon to be far stronger and more willing to use his connection to our patron. His performance during The Unknowing was… disappointing. I needed a way to force him to harness his ability more acutely than he had before. The coffin was a useful tool; Daisy an adequate bait. BASIRA: Then you messed up. Way he tells it, he doesn’t know how he got out of there. ELIAS: But he did. And his powers were no small part of it. Even if he required some assistance, they were what saved him. And he’s still achieved what no one – mortal, monster, or anything in-between – has ever been able to. He climbed out of The Buried. BASIRA: [DRY SIGH] What was the point? You won’t be getting your ritual off from in here so, what do you need him for? What’s so important you need him stronger? ELIAS: I have been observing a recent increase in people and supplies being moved to the small town of Ny-Ålesund, in Svalbard. An increase which I believe may be linked to a rather desperate attempt, by the People’s Church of the Divine Host, to perform a crude ritual of their own. To bring their… “Mr. Pitch”… into the world.

* Here we have a rare case of Elias potentially straight-up lying? Manuela… wasn’t doing anything; what was up with this “increase in people and supplies”? …… or was that because tourist season was right around the corner. I mean. He didn’t EXPLICITLY say that those were related to The Dark, only that it could be related. (And, after all, he encouraged Basira to see the aurora borealis right after…)

* It’s still unclear whether Elias is indeed in control (did he really know that Breekon was on the verge of delivering the coffin the following episode, back when he talked to Basira in MAG127?) or just Really Lucky and shameless enough to pretend that everything falls into place when it serves his interests… but with The Dark, he was absolutely spot-on that capitalizing on Jon’s fears would do wonders. And he’s been keeping a verrry close Eye on the Archives, apparently: MAG135 was the episode Jon tried to Know if Gertrude had managed to neutralise The Dark’s ritual, and failed, and was a bit worried that they could still be up to something; cue Elias, right after, mentioning that there was a cell still active in of Ny-Ålesund. In the same way, he had previously (at least claimed to have) used the fact that Daisy was alive and prisoner of the coffin as a motivation for Jon to go in, experience The Buried and… apparently get a power-up, or at least learn a bit more to use his own powers (although Elias acknowledged implicitly that Martin setting up the tape players helped with that at least a little).

* It’s still not absolutely sure whether Elias was the one who sent Jared after the Institute (the official target was Jon, but it could have been a decoy; the consequences, at least, where in Elias’s favour since… the Archives team absolutely shattered following the attack, with Martin asking for Peter’s protection, Melanie getting more Slaughter-y, and Basira getting colder and more strategical). But since Jon woke up… he’s been completing the set of experimenting the fears / getting live (or extracted) statements from spooks tied with other patrons / getting injuries. Previously to his coma, Jon had collected:

~ The Web: close encounter with A Guest for Mr Spider when he was 8. (No live-statement from Spook, no official scar… but the lighter and spiders around him, and the Mother-of-Puppets sending Oliver in MAG121 to push Jon to make a decision, make it very clear that Jon has never truly escaped The Web since back then.)

~ The Eye: was it when he witnessed the other boy getting taken by Mr Spider, without trying to help him? Was it because he began working at the Institute? When he began working in the Archives? When he read his first statement, took the first live one? When he got his first nightmare?

~ The Corruption: heavily injured and scarred by The Hive/Jane Prentiss in MAG039/MAG040. (No live-statement, but Jane’s written one in MAG032, and Jon felt it Strongly.)

~ The Spiral: slashed/stabbed by Michael in MAG047, got lost in The Spiral’s corridors in MAG078-MAG079, also went through Helen’s door in MAG101 and now MAG143. Michael-The-Distortion gave his live-statement in MAG101.

~ The Desolation: shook hands (and effed it up) with Jude Perry in MAG089, received her live-statement in the same episode.

~ The Vast: got “dropped” by Mike Crew in MAG091, which possibly messed up his lungs a bit; received/prompted his live-statement at the same time.

~ The Hunt: found by Daisy in MAG091, then strangled/knifed? by her, and also Hunted by Julia in MAG107. Forced (unknowingly) Daisy to give her statement in MAG061, received a partial one from her again in MAG132; received Trevor&Julia’s statement in MAG109.

~ The Stranger: got deceived by Not!Sasha all through season 2, got strangled by Nikola in MAG097, got kidnapped by Nikola for a month (MAG099 to MAG101), got moisturised by Nikola, was in the middle of The Unknowing when it happened, and managed to See through Nikola (MAG119, “I see you”). “Extracted” Breekon’s statement in MAG128.

… Elias was pretty glad about Jon’s progress when he was on the run from the Institute (MAG080: “Well, he was always going to need to fly the nest at some point. Go out and see the world for himself.” “He might die.” “It’s always a danger. Almost always.” / MAG092: “You were doing fine before you forced this little scene. I suggest you continue.”), and that’s when he got New Experiences. And now, in season 4:

~ The End: should have died in The Unknowing explosion but was too “inhuman” for this, and got stuck “on an edge” during his coma, apparently chose to not die (is that why his injuries heal so fast? We’re not sure it’s Beholding’s effect – it’s possible that, like The End’s victims, Jon… just can’t die anymore because he didn’t want to die and was touched by Terminus). Received Oliver Banks’s statement in MAG121.

~ The Slaughter: got slashed by Melanie right after he extracted her bullet in MAG125, has a scar from it on his shoulder. No live-statement, unless Melanie’s story from MAG117 counts…?

~ The Flesh: got two ribs taken in MAG131, received Jared Hopworth’s live-statement in the same episode.

~ The Buried: got stuck three days in the coffin in MAG132, got scraped everywhere from the walls closing in and experienced the full extent of Too-Close-I-Cannot-Breathe there. No live-statement from spook so far.

~ The Dark: “Saw” the Dark Sun and killed it in MAG143, right now unclear whether his eyes got impacted (;; he didn’t see that it was Helen before she spoke…). Received Manuela Dominguez’s live-statement in the same episode.

Which leaves…

~ The Lonely: Peter Lukas is still running the Institute, and Jon is missing Martin-who-is-working-for-Peter-and-tempted-by-the-Lonely a LOT. No live-statement from spook yet but, I mean, Peter is still… “right there” (and not there at all).

Elias had hired Melanie, might have known that Breekon was coming with the coffin (as he began to manipulate Basira right before he visited, and then claimed he had made her leave the Institute in order to let Jon descend into the coffin), pushed Basira(&Jon) to go to Norway to stop The Dark, and asked Peter to work as interim head director while he would be in prison (and there is still the matter of Jared’s commissioner). If he needed Jon to complete the set… then yeah, a lot of his actions have gone in that direction?

- Whatever Elias was aiming for, it Smells like he reached it. Was it for Jon to go through a True Dark Experience, which required to find the very few leftovers of the cult? Jon did, getting in contact with the Dark Sun. Was it to take a live-statement from a Dark avatar? Jon did with Manuela. Was it for Jon to push his powers further? Jon did, by staring directly into the Dark Sun. (Was it for Jon to kill his physical eyes? Status unclear at the moment but… it might have happened without characters realising it yet, because the place was dark.) Was it to get Jon to act as an actual avatar, feeding from people’s fears and traumas and terrorising them? Jon did, at least twice, with Floyd in MAG141 and with the unnamed woman in MAG142 who… might have become a Fear battery for him. Other possibilities: he needed Basira&Jon to be away because something was meant to happen at the Institute and/or with Elias’s legal procedure; or the aim was also to make Martin fall deeper into The Lonely/turn his back on Jon, etc. So many possibilities.

And Elias hasn’t moved from prison (… as far as we know) and yet it feels like he’s just. Winning At This Season.

(Though: I’m expecting Elias to be VERY pleased and insufferable about Jon very casually taking live-statements from unwilling people, who specifically Did Not Want to tell him and had… done nothing to deserve the nightmares and the Beholding-torture… but technically, it’s also possible that Elias might be a bit irritated? Because Jon gave the Institute’s name, back in MAG142, and seemed to have acted immoderately for the past three weeks? Elias was all about “moderation” back in MAG092, and he… himself acted with a lot of self-restraint, technically – he has been an utter asshole on all accounts, but he also used his powers sparingly, and never unprompted: Daisy was threatening him in MAG081, Melanie had tried to kill him twice before he traumatised her in MAG106, and he did the same to Martin as a last resort in MAG118, because Martin was doing everything to push Elias to use his powers on him. Comparatively, Jon… has been worse, in MAG141/142, attacking innocents for his own profit, and now aware of the consequences (and honestly, I’m still ill-at-ease at the amount of violation that was at play in MAG142 – even without taking Jon into account… I felt like it was the most intimately violent testimony we have ever heard in the series…). I don’t really believe that Elias is not currently SO VERY PLEASED by Jon’s behaviour, but it could be a twist that he’s, in fact, a bit cross that Jon went wild without any self-control.)

- Once again: MAG135 was a Very Striking case of Elias seemingly reacting to Jon’s concerns – Jon hadn’t been able to tell whether The Dark’s ritual had been neutralised or not, and Elias came up with the Worrying News about The Dark being active right now, in front of Basira, right at the end of the episode. So Elias might be keeping a close eye (ha) on Jon’s doubts, using them to manipulate him and push him in the direction he wants… and you know what Jon hasn’t hidden at all in season 4 and frequently lamented over?

That he’s been worried about Martin.

I have a bit of trouble picturing Elias giving Martin to Peter because he thought it would give Jon his Lonely scar (… because it would have meant, for Elias, to acknowledge that Martin was becoming extremely important to Jon at the end of season 3, and I’m not sure that Elias knew about it or would… acknowledge it at all. He was extremely contemptuous of Martin back then) but… this is definitely something he might be capitalising on now, and hahahaha ;; Martin… Martin, I don’t think you’re likely to die soon-ish (my bet is rather on Daisy orz), but you’re utterly unsafe…

- MMMMMMMMMMMmmMMMmmmm.

There was no mention of Elias’s acquaintances with Rayner in this episode, nothing about his “friendship” with Rayner – Manuela hadn’t named him in her written statement, either, only designing him as “the Head of your Institute”. If it was something about stoner!Elias’s backstory, I think she would have mentioned him here? I mostly have trouble picturing when it could come up, now that it seems that The Dark’s arc has been wrapped up – their ritual failed, Rayner is dead, most avatars are dead, the cult has been mostly eradicated, their Dark Sun was destroyed (there is still the question of what derailed their ritual, but we don’t need to hear much more about the cultists themselves).

I’m still not “feeling” it on a personal level (… or maybe I simply adore the idea that stoner!Elias is his True Backstory, that it’s not a matter of something having taken on his identity) but it does lend even more credit to the theory that Elias is actually Jonah Magnus, since we got confirmation that Jonah and Rayner knew each other in MAG138… and still nothing about Elias&Rayner on their own.

… in any case, WOW did Elias go out of his way to make sure The Dark would be a Done Deal. Manuela pointed out that the Institute (Gertrude? Or more?) had been keeping an eye (ha) on Hither Green (“Hither Green was, I believe, where your Institute was watching, but Natalie’s efforts were a small and meagre part of the greater effort.”), and it was the first place to fall. Elias tipped the police and sent them after the cultists and Rayner in February 2017 (which he confirmed in MAG135), ensuring Rayner’s downfall when it was already akin to kicking a puppy (Manuela: “I can only assume we were too weak to hide from you, and you struck when Maxwell was vulnerable.”). And now, he sent Basira&Jon to take care of one of the last avatars. It sounds very extra and… personal. (But then… it was hinted in MAG053 that proto-Dark and proto-Eye had History, as conflicting sides.)

- tl;dr Basira:

(MAG135) BASIRA: [DRY SIGH] What was the point? You won’t be getting your ritual off from in here so, what do you need him for? What’s so important you need him stronger?

ARE YOU SUPER SURE ELIAS IS NOT ACTUALLY GETTING HIS RITUAL OFF FROM IN THERE.

(YES, I am aware that this is a LOT of Elias Mentions for an episode in which… Elias wasn’t referred to even once aside from the “son of a bitch”. But. But. He pushed in that direction so hard…

And as Melanie had spat in MAG102, “It’s not just being stuck here, Jon. It’s not just me. He’s manipulating you, he’s manipulating all of us. Can you seriously not see that? He’s pulling all the strings, and I don’t think there’s any other way to stop it.”, and once again, what do you know about the Spiders and what is the exact nature of your relationship with them, Elias.)

- Consequences-wise, the Ny-Ålesund trip is potentially dramatic and tragic and filling me with dread (whatever Elias is aiming for, it feels like it might be coming… closer). But in practice, for the arc in itself? It was the most anticlimactic and hilarious thing ever: I was suspecting that Elias might have been highly misleading and that The Dark’s ritual might have been taken care of already, but I was expecting at least actual threats. Jon had mentioned people wearing the symbol of the Church, when he came back to the Institute, and there was still the matter of The Beast, and potentially the Dark Sun, even without Rayner, which could have been enough to Hurt? But no. The Dark Sun wasn’t usable as a power of mass-destruction. The Beast was revealed to have been slain by the cultists themselves. Rayner was confirmed (unless later twist) to have died to Basira and the other Section 31 officers back in season 2, more than a year ago – also confirming that… Natalie might have killed Rayner herself, when she stabbed a possibly possessed Leo Altman as retribution. The ritual had already failed more than three years ago.

Plus, there was the added Hilarity of Manuela spending the episode blaming Gertrude for their plans crashing, and thinking that she was meant to be neutralised by a powerful enemy… only to be told that Gertrude had died three years ago, and probably not even because of her involvement with The Dark, and that everything that happened might have been (partially) unrelated to Gertrude’s actions.

The episode felt like a kind of respite, ironically, after the build-up of MAG141/MAG142: instead of action-packed and threats and danger and dread, we got a few answers, and more questions. Elements tied in, and some things remained mysterious – but also highlighted.

- I’m…………… so mad……………… Jonny…………………………

So, with Manuela’s mention that:

(MAG143) MANUELA: Instead, we began the search for his successor, a new host for his… continuation. He would regain his strength, and we would plan our next move. It was difficult, though. The approaching culmination had meant Maxwell had not prepared another host, and the search for another vessel was… long and involved. Finally, about eighteen months ago, we found one: a child, whose father had, by coincidence, been directly marked by The Dark.

So, “Callum Brodie”, who got kidnapped by the cultists in February 2017; Elias tipped the police to their location, and the police officers interrupted the ceremony which should have allowed Maxwell Rayner to body-hop:

(MAG073) ARCHIVIST: You said it started with a kidnapping case? BASIRA: Yeah. Callum Brodie. Twelve… twelve years old. Disappeared from his home in Dalston three weeks ago. Sitter was asleep when the mother came home, the front door was open, there was no sign of him. There was no forced entry so it started out as a missing persons case, but they got a witness claiming he’d seen three unknown figures entering the Brodies’ home that night, so it was kicked up to Serious Crime.

Twelve years old in early 2017, only his mother mentioned, and a father who had been touched by The Dark.

(MAG052) ARCHIVIST: […] Martin hasn’t had much luck tracking down Mr. Brown himself. According to [Caroline Brodie], his ex-wife, she left him in 2004, after his dismissal from the prison service pushed him further into alcoholism, and he became abusive. She said she got a single letter from him in 2009, asking for reconciliation, but she never replied. Martin says the letter was postmarked from Waterford in Ireland. But he’s been unable to track Mr. Brown any further.

……………… :))))

So Callum’s father was probably Phillip Brown, the statement-giver from MAG052 (the… utterly awful prison guard, who was fascinated by Robert Montauk and described his last months at the prison, including Rayner’s visit), and Caroline left him when she was pregnant or had very recently given birth. I hate.

- A bit curious about what made it so hard to find a new body for Maxwell Rayner…? What were the prerequisites, since Manuela admitted that the fact his father had been touched by The Dark was a “coincidence”…? What are the things making a body Fit for body-hopping into…?

- In the list of things I’m happy (and sad) about: we finally got… a few things about Julia’s mother, and what pushed Robert Montauk to do what he did é_è

(MAG143) MANUELA: I was but newly joined when [Lynette] fled the Church, and Maxwell had her silenced. But I remember her brute of a husband. He fed the beast for us, you know, when first he believed [Lynette] might still be saved. Then, later, we faithful served as his fuel to banish it. But, not for long.

So, Julia’s mother disappeared because she tried to escape (that’s true cultist logic ;;), and Robert initially worked for Rayner, thinking he could save her (hence why he was receiving calls from Rayner for his next missions), before eventually turning against them when he realised there was no hope (hence why his last victim was specifically a cultist). It… even explains why no bodies were found, actually, if he was “feeding” them to the Beast (literally or in a spooky way):

(MAG012, Julia Montauk) “The one question they kept asking me over and over during the investigation into my father was whether I knew where the rest of the bodies were. I told them the truth, that I had no idea. They claimed they wanted to confirm the identities of the victims, which they couldn’t easily do with what was left.”

[…] ARCHIVIST: In addition to the body of one Christopher Lorne, 40 preserved hearts were recovered from Robert Montauk’s shed. […] Of possible significance also is the fact that the rest of the bodies were never found.

I wonder, were the forty hearts all taken from cultists? Or from other victims? Were the pictures he was taking only from innocent victims, or from cultists…?

Also, Jon finally got answers to some of his veerrry old interrogations:

(MAG052) ARCHIVIST: […] So what is this thing that seems to have stalked Robert Montauk through so much of his life? And what’s its connection to Rayner? Were they summoning it, containing it, worshipping it? Whatever the case, it seems as though Montauk earned its anger. I feel it might be worthwhile getting a few more torches for the Archive.

- But mostly, I’m deliriously happy that “Montauk” ascended to a Dark-killing family brand name:

(MAG143) MANUELA: [Vardan Darvish] had an inkling, I thought, but he crossed a Montauk, which has… traditionally gone poorly for us.

Good job Julia, you did AMAZING sweetie (MAG109), and I’m even more glad for her since… The Dark took both of her parents… ;;

- Sssooo…

(MAG143) MANUELA: To begin our seven-day feast, we slew the still and lightless beast, and drank of its stagnant blood, submerging the first of the sacrifices in the brackish water it had blessed with its stillness. Maxwell plunged its claws into his chest, freeing the darkness within him, and we waited; and we sang; and we exalted in divine stillness.

… was the brackish water actually the beast’s blood all along? (Though it seems to be the essence of The Dark overall: Halley had been drowned in it, and “Rayner” in himself is mostly liquid, as he tried to take possession of Callum through it, and was shot and killed when it was out.)

I’m !! that it turns out that… the cultists themselves killed the Beast. I wasn’t expecting that. Though it’s probably meant to come back by itself, as Robert Montauk showed:

(MAG052, Philip Brown) “I was tense, ready to fight off Montauk if he decided to make a move, but instead, a soft voice came from out of the darkness. I didn’t recognise it, but I thought it sounded like it came from the old man, and I don’t think he was talking to me. [STATIC] “You didn’t think you could kill it for long, did you?” That’s what it said. […] I could once again see Montauk and the old man sat there, motionless. It didn’t seem like they’d moved an inch, though as I went to take Montauk back to his cell, I noticed that he was crying. I didn’t mention it. I’ll be honest, I was kind of freaked out by the whole thing.”

(MAG143) MANUELA: He fed the beast for us, you know, when first he believed [Lynette] might still be saved. Then, later, we faithful served as his fuel to banish it. But, not for long. That’s the thing about Darkness, isn’t it? You try your hardest to eradicate, flood your surroundings with light, but it’s always there at the edges – waiting for the glow to weaken, to return and cover you forever. Robert Montauk discovered that the hard way. And someday, so will your Gertrude.

So yep, it will… come back one day, probably.

(- Fun stupid facts! MAG052, describing Robert Montauk’s death… had been interrupted by Basira delivering a tape to Jon. So we had a small meta connection between her and The Dark, AND with The Eye, since the tape she delivered was labelled “Alexandria” and was one of the rare Beholding statements, that Jon listened to in MAG053, about the old Serapeum, which might have been a proto-Archive.)

- Manuela had some Drive too, in her reverence and grandiloquence, but I was mostly Conceal Don’t Feel / “DON’T YOU DARE TELL HER” all through her statement because. She was assuming that Gertrude was still alive and coming for her. And aouch, might have been Harsh to learn that no, these two randos are not here on behalf of Gertrude, but have been scrambling through things for the past two years and a half after she was killed.

- It’s interesting (and also very funny.) how The Dark is simultaneously… very threatening, and not that much. Manuela was incredibly scary in her statement, in MAG135, mostly because of the concept of her “fear battery”? The way they proceeded with Julia’s mom was really… heart-wrenching (you can’t leave and stay alive for long)? They killed so many people for their ritual, just like The Stranger?

(MAG143) MANUELA: We had hundreds of sacrifices prepared and ready, plunged into darkness and terror for days on end. […] I began to drown the sacrifices. Too soon, perhaps. But it worked, to keep it going, and keep it together.

… but at the same time.

(MAG143) MANUELA: Maxwell had always had the visions, the drive. Whatever was inside him pulled him to this end, to this great undertaking, like a magnet, and I was so very honoured to be his right hand…! Natalie and the others followed, but they did not truly understand. […] BASIRA: You said the Dark Sun was still here. MANUELA: [SNORT] Fine. If you’re so keen to take everything, undo the work of centuries… it’s just through that door. [FOOTSTEPS] BASIRA: Jon? ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] [STATIC:] How dangerous is it? MANUELA: Only myself, Maxwell and Natalie could even look upon it. It will annihilate you both in an instant.

We know that Manuela had joined the cult around the time Julia’s mother tried to escape it (“I was but newly joined when [Lynette] fled the Church, and Maxwell had her silenced.”), and we know that Robert Montauk was active for five years before being arrested in 1995, which means that Manuela met Rayner around or shortly before 1990. So, she has been in the cult for more than 25 years at this point. Meanwhile, she was looking down on Natalie, who was still Amongst The Big Ones, and we know from MAG025 that Natalie:

(MAG025, Mark Bilham) “That changed last October, when Natalie’s mum died. I don’t know how it happened, exactly. Heart failure, I think. It was sudden, I know that much, and it hit her hard. I mean, obviously it did, it was her mum, but I think… I think she lost her faith. […] That month was sad, but it’s not what Kathy wanted us to talk to you about. No, it was what happened afterwards. It was after Natalie found her new Church. It was Kathy who told me about it. This must have been about two months after Natalie’s mum died. I must have asked how she was doing, if she was feeling any better. Kathy said that, yeah she was. Apparently, she’d found a new congregation and seemed to be getting some comfort there.”

… had joined the cult in December 2014. Three months before the ritual. HOW do you take them super-seriously when you learn that one of their highest-ranking people had JUST joined the cult and was just very enthusiastic and also dramatically off-the-mark about what was happening.

(- Yes, I’m saying this, fully aware that shit, Jon has been Head Archivist for less than three years (… and even less if you take his coma into account), is already The Archivist, is deep in spooks… while Gertrude had been active for around fifty years, and at least aware of rituals for forty years, as she mentioned in MAG137 about The Slaughter. It’s not about time, it’s about… willingness and compatibility? And Jon went in very deep, very fast.

But if Natalie was able to look at the Dark Sun in merely three months… we’re a bit lucky that she died during the Section 31 operation, before she could have ascended to more?)

(And also: nicknaming your Fear god “Mr. Pitch” is such an hilarious move, come on:

(MAG025, Mark Bilham) “[Natalie] said that it wasn't long until they were collected by Mr. Pitch. She said that Kathy could come too, if she liked. She could be saved.”

(MAG135) ELIAS: I have been observing a recent increase in people and supplies being moved to the small town of Ny-Ålesund, in Svalbard. An increase which I believe may be linked to a rather desperate attempt, by the People’s Church of the Divine Host, to perform a crude ritual of their own. To bring their… “Mr. Pitch”… into the world.

(MAG143) MANUELA: Natalie and the others followed, but they did not truly understand. Not truly, with their talk of “peace” and “unity” and “Mr. Pitch”. A friendly name, to try and hide from a concept they couldn’t grasp.

Natalie, please.)

- Interesting word choice from Manuela here:

(MAG143) MANUELA: And here I have remained. Perhaps I have told myself that I am preparing, gathering my own strength and making my plans to continue the Church in his name. But I think in my heart, I have been waiting for this moment. For the final axe to fall, and finish the last remnant of our holy crusade. And here, at last, you are.

Because literal crusades may have been used in the past as a pretext to attack the old Serapeum in Alexandria, according to MAG053? And on that note:

(MAG143) MANUELA: Our congregation in Alaska disappeared the next day, and Russia as well. One by one, it seemed our scattered Whisperers Of Night were falling, and holding it together, keeping the lightless world anchored to our star, bringing it closer… was becoming an almost unbearable strain on Maxwell.

(MAG053) GERTRUDE: And there’s even one, unnamed contemporary historian, that describes the mob attacking the Serapeum not as Christians, but using a phrase which roughly translates as: “Those who sing the night”.

I think “Whisperers Of Night” might be a different translation for the same original term as “Those who sing the night”, like “Circus of the Other” and “Another Circus”? =D If so, nice touch!

- One of my Biggest Questions regarding the Magnus verse has been around Gertrude’s time of death – pet-theory of mine being that she might have… not actually died when ~blood was found in her office~ and that she went off the radar for a while before Elias caught up to her.

We got a few more details in the chronology, and characters insisted to put her death around the time of the failed ritual, so in March 2015… while we know it can’t have been The True Story because Gertrude recorded a statement in April. Chronology-wise:

* March 11th 2015: Mark Bilham managed to escape the ceremony happening in the Hither Green Dissenters Chapel, reported Natalie Ennis’s disappearance to the police when they arrived. (MAG025)

* March 14th 2015: “Antonio Blake” (Oliver Banks) gave his statement to Gertrude, explaining that she should die soon – he saw this “the night before last” (so the night from 12th to 13th March) and there is around ten days before it should happen, which would predict her death for around March 22nd / March 23rd 2015. (MAG011)

* March 15th 2015: according to Elias, when he went to the Archives, “Gertrude wasn’t there, but her desk was covered in blood. […] The police tested the blood and confirmed the DNA matched to Gertrude, though I don’t know why they had her on file. They judged there to be almost a gallon of blood spilled, far more than the human body can lose and survive so, I assumed she was dead”. (MAG040)

* March 16th 2015: “four days before the eclipse was due”, Maxwell Rayner felt a “disruption” (given by the collapse of the ritual at Hither Green); the different cells of The Dark began to disappear. (MAG143)

* March 20th 2015: a total solar eclipse happened in Ny-Ålesund and, according to Manuela Dominguez, should have marked the culmination of The Dark’s ritual. Basira hadn’t given the date but had already highlighted that it might be linked to Edmond Halley and John Flamsteed and Halley’s comet. (MAG108, MAG143)

* April 4th 2015: Gertrude records a written statement about The Stranger, mentions that she’s not in a good shape (“I had hoped I’d have a chance to recover. I can still barely stand.”), though, in context, it could be due to her theft of the gorilla skin from the Stranger gang… or because she purposely injured herself and lost too much blood recently. At least, still alive and kicking when she doubly shouldn’t be – both according to Oliver’s prediction and to Elias’s declaration. (MAG087)

* May 15th 2015: a scream is heard at the Hither Green Chapel, but the police find nothing. Jon is absolutely clear on the date (“About a month after this statement [April 19th 2015] was given, on May 15th 2015”) and points out that “according to the official file, May 15th 2015 was the day Gertrude Robinson, my predecessor, passed away.” (MAG025)

… And I realised, thanks to this post, that. Actually, March 22nd 2015, which was the day Evan Lukas died “from heart failure” (MAG013: “Congenital, they said. Some problem with his heart. Always been there, but never diagnosed. No warning. One in a million chance.”)… was the day Gertrude was supposed to die.

I have no clue re: what happened to derail The Dark’s ritual – I don’t think that it simply failed because twist, no ritual can ever successfully be carried to completion, since that would lower the stakes too much at this point in the series. But the way Manuela described it:

(MAG143) MANUELA: I… don’t know exactly when it all started to come undone. I think Maxwell first felt the ripples four days before the eclipse was due. [SIGH] It was strange… Like a pause in the hysterical whimpering and fruitless prayers of the sacrifices. And a ripple that was felt through the waters, and the stagnant blood that bound us. A disruption. We would later learn that this was the collapse of the ritual at Hither Green – but it was only the first. Our congregation in Alaska disappeared the next day, and Russia as well. One by one, it seemed our scattered Whisperers Of Night were falling […]. And then… it stopped. It just… stopped. All at once, that loving embrace was stripped from us, and it began to retreat, to recede back into the place that it had come from. We were so close…! … We were so close… […] We left, half of us dead, and the other half destroyed by coming so close to the true essence, [SIGH] and being denied. In my most wretched hours, I wonder… perhaps it was us…! Perhaps… we simply lacked faith. We weren’t worthy…! The world wasn’t worthy. But… no. We were ready. We had earned our Dark rapture. And we were robbed.

It feels, a bit, like a slow degradation, with cells dying one after the other, isolated from each other. I wonder if Evan Lukas (or the Lukases) were involved somehow, for that one…?

Anyway, this is still very much a Mystery so… we might get a clue another time. Maybe thanks to Adelard Dekker, in person or through an old letter?

- I’mmmmmmm thinking that we might get an answer re: Gertrude’s last activities / what happened specifically that made Elias kill her / what was happening between them… because the subject of Gertrude’s last activities and death had reemerged lately, with… some indecision from characters:

(MAG135) ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] I’ll keep digging. If there is another ritual upcoming, I’ll need all the information I can get on it. I can’t believe Gertrude didn’t have a plan for it. I hope I’m just being over-cautious, that it’s already long since dealt with, but… we’ll see.

(MAG139) ARCHIVIST: Statement ends. [INHALE] … Nice to see Gertrude [EXHALE] also used to get a lot of threats. So far it doesn’t seem that any went… desperately well. Except for Elias, of course. But he didn’t threaten, did he? He just… did it.

(MAG143) MANUELA: [HUFF] Coward. So, how did she do it? It’s been three years, waiting, guarding this place without hope. At least, do me the courtesy of telling me how she collapsed our moment of triumph. ARCHIVIST: You really don’t know, do you? MANUELA: Know what? ARCHIVIST: … Gertrude’s dead. She died right around the time of your ritual. MANUELA: Ha! So: stopping us took everything she had. BASIRA: You wish. She was murdered. Unrelated, as far as we can tell.

(Still hoping that Elias&Gertrude’s last interaction was recorded? We already heard gunshots in a few episodes, this one included, and we even got Leitner’s Extended Sounds Of Brutal Pipe Murder live. Wouldn’t be “too shocking”.)

- I’ll be laughing for months and months about the fact that:

(MAG143) BASIRA: [SIGH] So, what, this was another waste of time? What, no Church, no Dark Sun? … I’m gonna kill that son of a bitch…!

… Basira canonically called Elias a “son of a bitch”. Which. I mean. SUPER FAIR. But.

(A bit rude for Elias’s mother, Basira; I’m sure that, even if she was utterly awful, she wasn’t absolutely responsible for Elias’s… everything.)

- And a big “IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIHHHH” for cop!Basira handling Manuela, leading the interrogation (telling Jon when to step in with his powers), and using Daisy’s weapons.

- Jon demonstrated multiple powers in this episode… but nothing was a True Novelty nor out of line compared to season 3 – except for the way he pressured Manuela into giving her statement.

* Actually, there were a few parallels with MAG096, and the way Daisy&him had caught and interrogated “Sarah”: Jon using compulsion, a few jokes thrown around, Daisy-or-Basira handling the physical aspect of it.

* Jon did casually admit to compelling random people… but he had already Done That in MAG107, when needing information:

(MAG107) ARCHIVIST: [SNIFF] [EXHALE] The… the hospital was… The hospital was interesting. It’s all very well being able to get people to answer your questions, but if they genuinely don’t remember something, it’s not always as useful as it seems.

(MAG143) ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] I don’t know. Everyone back at the research base seemed… pretty sure this place was empty. BASIRA: And you believe them? ARCHIVIST: They weren’t lying. BASIRA: Wait, you… did your sp–… ARCHIVIST: Oh, yeah, no, I, I don’t think they noticed. BASIRA: So they were serious. It’s been empty for… what, a year?

… Still not Super Great but at least… not new and, presumably, consequences-less apart from (lack of) ethics considerations. (MAG103 was worse in that regard and, hopefully, without much consequence for the person Jon had compelled.)

* Jon was also… not frantic during the interrogation? Basira was the one leading it, and Jon compelled when she prompted him too, like it had happened with Breekon:

(MAG143) BASIRA: Who are you? MANUELA: [GRUNTING] BASIRA: Jon? ARCHIVIST: [STATIC:] Who are you? [STATIC INCREASES, PRESSURING.] MANUELA: [PANTS] … Manuela. Manuela Dominguez. BASIRA: Where is everybody? MANUELA: [PANTS] Go to hell…! ARCHIVIST: [STATIC:] Answer her. MANUELA: They’re dead. Because of you. […] Fine. If you’re so keen to take everything, undo the work of centuries… it’s just through that door. [FOOTSTEPS] BASIRA: Jon? ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] [STATIC:] How dangerous is it? MANUELA: Only myself, Maxwell and Natalie could even look upon it. It will annihilate you both in an instant. ARCHIVIST: [EXHALE] BASIRA: Ask her how we can destroy it.

(Which. Is indeed a useful ability to use against monsters/dangerous spooks but… still, Basira won’t be the one to hold Jon off on it. It works as long as they’re dealing with killers and dangerous people, if it’s about finding ways to prevent them from causing harm… but I’m a bit afraid that Basira indeed makes use of Jon’s abilities, and seems to be… so encouraging when it can serve her.)

* It’s honestly the pressure he now uses to “get” statements that makes my stomach twist (in a bad way)? It’s been three episodes in a row that the person clearly didn’t want to tell their story, and were forced to, and we got ample descriptions in MAG142 of how… deeply violating and shattering it was for the victim:

(MAG141) ARCHIVIST: Tell me what happened. [STATIC INCREASES] FLOYD: W–what…? What is this? ARCHIVIST: Whenever you’re ready. FLOYD: A–a–alright. [STATIC DECREASES] … Sure… [SILENCE] He… he–he w–was a good boss, you know? […] My last voyage with him was the one that killed him. [Four] years ago; I still have nightmares sometimes. Tried to escape it, but some things follow you no matter where you go. […] And I have tried, ever since then, to leave those memories behind me. […] BASIRA: And what? You thought the best way to find it was by… slurping it out of his brain? ARCHIVIST: He didn’t exactly seem inclined to volunteer the information.

(MAG142) WOMAN: […] and he says he wants my story. He says he needs to hear what happened to me. And I… I wanted to tell him to–to–to to go away, I–I wanted to–to to kick him, and run. But… I… [SHAKY DUMBFOUNDED EXHALE] I sit down. … And I start to tell him… everything. About the job, about the collapse, ab–about the hand… And more than I told you, even, and–and… as I do, it’s… it’s like I’m there again. Like I can feel it grab my ankle, a–a–a cold, dead hand, and I just…! I just can’t stop talking, like I cannot shut up…! MARTIN: A… [RESTRAINED EXHALE] Are you alright? WOMAN: No?! No, I’m not! Of course I’m not! It felt like… like I was throwing up all those feelings again, and I wanted to, to scream, but instead I just… sat, and calmly told him my life story, and he just watched me. His eyes, like… his eyes, like, we–were… drinking in every fragment of my misery. I can’t… It…

(MAG143) ARCHIVIST: I… [SIGH] [STATIC:] What happened? MANUELA: Don’t… don’t make me, please! ARCHIVIST: Tell me. [STATIC INCREASES, PRESSURING.] MANUELA: [PANTS] Fine! … Fine.

(That’s a double-standard: it feels Fictionally Satisfying when he does this to a serial killer, because uh, had it coming, you can bear some unpleasantness in your life, too. But… same as last week: I’m still too upset about MAG142, even if Jon feels bad about it in the future, or is called out on it… I’m still a bit reluctant at the idea of being sad for him over anything, now that I know he harmed MAG142’s woman so badly, and that it will be likely a permanent state of trauma for her…? Still not sure Jon can still work as a protagonist at all after that? Though this episode offered a nice balance for me: I didn’t feel like I was meant to Feel many things, but mostly think and observe; there was something a bit more mechanical, even when Jon mentioned that he thought he was going to die… probably because he was talking with Helen, who was also detached. But I’m curious to see how these things will be handled once Jon is back at the Archives, and now that both Martin&Basira know about it…)

- SURPRISE HELEN IS A SURPRISE AND !!! I’M LOVE HER…

(MAG143) HELEN: Go find your Basira. Then, let’s get you both home. ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] [CLICK.]

That “your Basira” was so… nice… dang……………

- Same thing as Jon forcing Dangerous Spooks to spill it all out: it feels kind of satisfying to have Helen… swallowing them in her corridors – they had it coming, and it means they won’t be hurting people anymore, and as long as it’s Spooks eating Spooks, they can do whatever between themselves, I’m not As Emotionally Invested And Sad/Upset as when innocent people get hurt :w

(MAG143) ARCHIVIST: … Did you catch her? HELEN: Yes. ARCHIVIST: [YELP] [SIGH] [BREATHING HARDER] HELEN: She needed a door. ARCHIVIST: H… h–how did you… HELEN: Oh, finding this place was easy without the Darkness. ARCHIVIST: Will… she be coming back? HELEN: … No. Uuuh… this one, I think I’ll keep.

(Is it because Helen is wlw and not into males at all, hence why she wasn’t keen on keeping Jared.)

Though: Helen was waaaay more instable in this episode than previously? She sounded carnivorous and playful, a bit like a cruel child, here, while she was… colder and a bit more detached back in MAG131 and MAG115. Is it also because she’s not in the tunnels? Or because she’s settling in as The Distortion and getting more… all over the place…? But still coherent so far – since Helen repeated that “I told you – I’ve decided to help” and is sticking to it? (How long will that last…?)

- Will Manuela and Jon still have the dreams, or will it be “cut” because Manuela is inside of/being digested by the Distortion now? According to MAG120, the door was closed and Jon wasn’t opening it in his dreams, so… (And if there are dreams: will they be pitch-black and absolutely useless.)

- So many doors in this episode…

(MAG143) MANUELA: [SNORT] Fine. If you’re so keen to take everything, undo the work of centuries… it’s just through that door. […] BASIRA: Look, it’s alright, Jon. No one else knows it’s here. And if we just leave it, no one will know. ARCHIVIST: No, I… I’m doing this. [INHALE] Get out. [FOOTSTEPS] ARCHIVIST: [BREATHING LOUDER AND MORE SHAKINGLY.] [UNSEALING A METALLIC DOOR; HEAVY DOOR SLOWLY SLIDING OPEN.] [CREAKING, SPARKLER-LIKE STATIC SATURATING THE RECORDING.] ARCHIVIST: It’s… beautiful… MANUELA: [DISTANT, PANTING] … No… NO!!! [STATIC SUDDENLY DISAPPEARS.] BASIRA: Jon! [BODY CRUMPLING ON THE GROUND?] ARCHIVIST: [PANTING] No, I–I’m, I’m okay… […] [DISTORTION SOUNDS, BRINGING CONSTANT STATIC] [A DOOR CREAKS OPEN] ARCHIVIST: … Did you catch her? HELEN: Yes. ARCHIVIST: [YELP] [SIGH] [BREATHING HARDER] HELEN: She needed a door. ARCHIVIST: H… h–how did you… […] I… Why are you here? HELEN: I told you – I’ve decided to help. I thought you might like a way home? ARCHIVIST: Another door? HELEN: If you want it. [PAUSE] … How was it? ARCHIVIST: Mm? HELEN: Looking upon The Dark. ARCHIVIST: I thought I was going to die. HELEN: You seem to think that a lot. I remember when you thought you were going to die at my threshold. ARCHIVIST: … Yeah.

And still: Jon’s overall Complicated Relationship with doors, I’ll have to update my liiiiist…

- I’m… honestly (pleasantly!) surprised that turns out that Basira… wasn’t keen, at all, on sacrificing Jon or allowing him to sacrifice himself:

(MAG143) ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] [STATIC:] How dangerous is it? MANUELA: Only myself, Maxwell and Natalie could even look upon it. It will annihilate you both in an instant. ARCHIVIST: [EXHALE] BASIRA: Ask her how we can destroy it. ARCHIVIST: I know how. … I just need to see it. BASIRA: “See” as in…? ARCHIVIST: As in… actually see it. MANUELA: Go ahead. Just try. BASIRA: Look, it’s alright, Jon. No one else knows it’s here. And if we just leave it, no one will know. ARCHIVIST: No, I… I’m doing this. [INHALE] Get out.

Her spontaneous reaction was to try and discourage him from doing Something Dangerous And Potentially Deadly. So: she cares, she doesn’t… want him to die, even though she witnessed him grabbing Floyd and forcing him to tell his statement and condemning him to the nightmares that she herself used to be plagued with. Which means that… yeah, a lot of her dryness, of her cautiousness and calculation, has been… less sincere than she was pretending? That she tried to behave a certain way, while feeling another – that she still has sympathy for Jon and doesn’t think he would be better off dead, even though she knows that The Eye still has its chance ritual-wise, even though she saw that Jon’s powers have been all over the place since he woke up. She’s forcing herself to not trust him, or still doesn’t want to trust him for real… but she cares about him. And after MAG142, I’m not sure it’s… a good thing ;;

- And a bit ;wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww; for Dasira mood.

(MAG143) BASIRA: They just left it here? ARCHIVIST: I… maybe. [PAUSE] [SCOFFING] Kinda wish Daisy was here…! [FOOTSTEPS STOP.] … Basira? BASIRA: Yeah? [FOOSTEPS RESUME.] ARCHIVIST: … Sorry. [INHALE] I know this isn’t– BEHIND YOU!

Aouch, Jon. Accidentally very rude.

And I’m… surprised and stupidly hopeful that he did realise right away that he had crossed a line / wronged Basira / hurt her feelings? What the HELL happened with the live-statements from MAG141/MAG142, for Jon to… Listen, I can’t call Floyd and that woman “statement-givers” when the stories were forcefully grabbed and torn out from them, and Jon didn’t even seem to realise that he was hurting them so deeply – although he DID acknowledge that Floyd would get nightmares (but his “And I am sorry about that.” didn’t sound like he was sorry AT ALL).

There is still the mystery of what happened shortly before the trip because, really, season 4 had not been going in the direction of Jon getting desensitised to random people’s sufferings (and, for example, only caring about his assistants)? Like, at all? He was very detached about Gertrude’s methods and horrified about what had happened to Jan Kilbride (MAG130: “Even so, and… leaving aside the matter of Gertrude’s actions for a moment…” / MAG133: “So use me. Because if you go it alone, you are going to die. Even Gertrude worked with people. We make bad decisions when we don’t communicate…”), he was uncomfortable about the fact that he was aware that other people were still trapped in the coffin, although he hadn’t been the one to put them there (MAG135: “… Is locking it up the right thing to do? There are other people in there. And Daisy and I got out, but– … No, I, uh… I can’t think about that. Even if I could somehow be sure of recreating our escape, I–I can’t save everyone that’s been taken. I–It’s not my job to try, I– And I can’t spend another three days in there, I just… I need to let it go.”), he had mentioned to Daisy that he was ready to suffer as long as it meant not losing anyone (MAG136), doubting so much (MAG139)… and then he just. Switched? What happened, for him to suddenly sound much more mechanical…? As mentioned with previous episodes, was it due to his attempt at peeking through The Lonely…? Was it because the Institute/Archives have a sort of stabilising effect on him, and he was outside in all three cases…? Was it because Jon chose, very deliberately, to power up through live-statements in order to be ready for The Dark, and is… drunk with power right now?

- At the very least: Jon has sounded significantly… more detached? In MAG141/142. Still able to have various inflections, but there is something more… matter-of-fact than in previous episodes? A bit closer to how he sounded in season 1 – though more fast-paced? And sounding tired, but not in the same way as previously in season 4. Not exactly snappy but…

(MAG143) BASIRA: [SIGH] Eyes peeled. [SILENCE] ARCHIVIST: … Was that a joke? BASIRA: Yeah. [SILENCE] Any clue where everyone is? […] Don’t move. [GRUNTS, PANTS. A SPIT.] ARCHIVIST: Oh! … Charming.

… dryer, instead of the previous softness? He was complaining about having so many doubts, in MAG139, and in the last few episodes, he’s been… going along with the flow without much hesitation. Not pleased but not startled nor hesitating. So what happened…

(- Still casually self-destructive/going for the potentially Lethal options, though, and Daisy had been spot-on when highlighting to Martin that he was “self-destructive” – something Jon had himself acknowledged without using the word, at the end of MAG136.

There might have been multiple feelings at play when he marched on to watch the Dark Sun: their goal was to neutralise The Dark/make sure they couldn’t succeed with their ritual, and taking it out seemed like the wisest option; curiosity/desire to see it; and… grabbing an occasion to die, if it were to happen. He did acknowledge that last one:

(MAG143) HELEN: … How was it? ARCHIVIST: Mm? HELEN: Looking upon The Dark. ARCHIVIST: I thought I was going to die. HELEN: You seem to think that a lot. I remember when you thought you were going to die at my threshold. ARCHIVIST: … Yeah.

And he accepted, right after, to go through Helen’s door again, which really doesn’t scream like the action of someone with Self-Preservation. And he was still afraid, if his breathing is any indication, although… quieter and less melancholic/shaking than when he had gone into the coffin.)

- Jon’s way of just. Going straight for the statement, in MAG141/MAG142, makes me think of a certain Beholding creature and:

(MAG053) GERTRUDE: My biggest concern right now is whatever creature Mr. Heller encountered down there. It was… 56 years ago. But if it’s still alive, I should be careful. What was it? A guardian of some sort or perhaps… perhaps it too was… once an Archivist.

(MAG092) ARCHIVIST: So it’s… it’s back to breadcrumbs, and statements, and risking my life talking to things that barely remember how to be human anymore? […] Am I… Elias, am I still human? ELIAS: Jon, what does human even mean? I mean, really? You still bleed, you can still die. And your will is still your own, mostly. That’s more than can be said for a lot of the “real” humans out there. … You’re worried about ending up like that thing, lurking in the dirt under the streets of Alexandria? Don’t be. Just do what you need to, and you’ll be fine. Understood?

I mean, YEAH, some things have changed a bit since then (… can Jon still die nowadays?), but. Still. He’s coming a bit closer to Creature Kept In Tunnels And Thirsty For People With Spooky Stories…

- Cough.

(MAG143) MANUELA: We had been worshipping in the deepest dark, and yet, when it crossed the sun, I felt it roll over us, like a cooling balm on a summer’s day, plunging us into a deep, black void, far more complete than I can ever convey with mere words. It was more than beautiful: it was divine…! And as we unveiled our new and absent sun, the sacrifices who remained screamed, and fell in holy agonies, and the world of endless night we had been promised began to pour in, shining out and all around us. […] ARCHIVIST: [BREATHING LOUDER AND MORE SHAKINGLY.] [UNSEALING A METALLIC DOOR; HEAVY DOOR SLOWLY SLIDING OPEN.] [CREAKING, SPARKLER-LIKE STATIC SATURATING THE RECORDING.] ARCHIVIST: It’s… beautiful… MANUELA: [DISTANT, PANTING] … No… NO!!! [STATIC SUDDENLY DISAPPEARS.]

So, for Jon, it was just “beautiful” – and not “divine”.

And he literally killed it with his eyes.

And there were a few mentions of the fact that the word “see” now has different meanings for Jon, in this episode:

(MAG143) ARCHIVIST: I never said we were. Just said I couldn’t see anybody. BASIRA: Oh, I thought you meant like… “See”–see. ARCHIVIST: Uh… no. BASIRA: We need to figure out proper terms for this st– [SLIDING NOISE] … What are you doing? […] Ask her how we can destroy it. ARCHIVIST: I know how. … I just need to see it. BASIRA: “See” as in…? ARCHIVIST: As in… actually see it.

So.

Squint.

Jon wasn’t able to tell that Helen had arrived, at first, which meant… he hadn’t seen her. And the shattering sounds when Manuela fled may have meant that they couldn’t see anything anymore (torches? Basira said there were no lightbulbs). And Jon was, or sounded hurt. And it didn’t feel like they knew where the others were.

(MAG143) ARCHIVIST: [PANTING] No, I–I’m, I’m okay… [SOUND OF GLASS SHATTERING.] ARCHIVIST: [SCREAM] BASIRA: Get down! [FOOTSTEPS RUNNING AWAY.] [TWO GUNSHOTS.] ARCHIVIST: [PANTING] Basira…?! BASIRA: I’m alright, just… just one second…! ARCHIVIST: Hum… BASIRA: Stay here. ARCHIVIST: Look, I’m okay, I can help…! [FOOTSTEPS LEAVING] [SILENCE ONLY COVERED BY THE MACHINERY SOUNDS, AND HIS PAINED GRUNTS AND LABOURED BREATHING.]

So. Did Jon just get a Dark scar and… killed his eyes while killing the sun…?

(I missed that but, apparently, Jonny recently mentioned he was working on disability representation, and it had been highlighted by a few persons that Jon-going-blind could easily feel like cheating because he has other powers to… compensate/replace his actual sight (the classic trop of the disabled superhero that isn’t actually disabled), but. The end of the episode was a bit confusing and leaving room for Jon or Basira (she came back really soon…) to… have actually messed up their eyes, and not having realised it yet because the whole place was still in the dark.

And what would happen, re: written statements, if Jon were to lose his eyesight? Would he still “feel” the statement anyway or… would he be unable to read them anymore, and thus forced to seek live-statements to feed the Eye and/or to rely on the assistants reading them – when he was on the run back in season 3, he barely read anything during two months, but Martin&Melanie did and Elias had pushed in that direction, so it might have been having an effect on him too…?)

- … What is next? What will happen, now that Jon&Basira are apparently meant to come back to the Archives right away?

* The fact that Elias had been Basira’s secret intel might come out of the bag pretty soon:

(MAG143) BASIRA: [SIGH] So, what, this was another waste of time? What, no Church, no Dark Sun? … I’m gonna kill that son of a bitch…! ARCHIVIST: No, I… [INHALE] I think it’s here. I, I can feel it, like a… a hole in my mind. […] MANUELA: That’s… I– … Then why are you here? Maxwell is dead. The ritual failed. What’s left? ARCHIVIST: [INHALE] A good question! [EXHALE] Basira? BASIRA: You said the Dark Sun was still here.

Either Basira is going to be Beautifully Enraged at Elias, either… yeah, it’s coming. And Basira got totally manipulated and used the whole way…………… (Another question being: has Jon been suspecting that Basira’s intel was Elias for a while, and had been hiding his suspicions to try to see what Elias was aiming at…?)

* Will Jon be allowed to visit Elias, now…? I mean. We had no mention at all that Jon had even asked to visit Elias – but Elias had made sure that Jon couldn’t visit him, because ~ he’s at a very delicate stage right now~ (MAG127), though since then… a few things have changed. (It’s still unlikely given her legal status, but I’m very curious about the possibility of Daisy having a one-on-one with him at some point…)

* There will be the matter of… Jon’s actions re: live-statements. Were the woman and Floyd the only cases, or are they other victims? How many? When did it begin? Why – was it pure instinct, or partially deliberate from Jon? And are the assistants supposed to manage him, and how…? If not Basira, who, in the Archives, will be able to tell Jon off, if he’s now casually hurting people? Martin was prompt to find excuses for him (even after he listened to this woman’s story! He had trouble putting the blame on Jon, and was still considering Jon’s feelings more than his victim’s!) and sounded ready to fly to Norway when he learned that Jon was on a dangerous mission. Daisy has a clear head about responsibility and regrets/remorse and hating the harm she did, but she also… heavily presented Jon as a victim in MAG142. Basira saw Jon forcing Floyd to tell his story, knowing the consequences, and still had the reflex to protect him a few days after. I’m a bit worried that none of them would be ready to truly… shackle Jon or confront him about MAG141/MAG142…? Although there is still Melanie who… will probably take none of his shit, if she hears about this.

(I’m legitimately curious about how she would react, were she to listen to MAG142’s tape. She doesn’t have the bullet anymore, so probably not going into a Slaughter rage, but… of all of the assistants, I think Melanie is likely to have the most Intense reaction if she learns about Jon’s current actions.)

* More live-statements means more dreams, and there is still the matter of MAG120’s tape: Elias was addressing Jon directly in that one, it was supposed to be a message, at least towards the end. Did Jon listen to it already? Will he find it soon? … Will we get another statement from Elias about Jon’s dreams, now that there are… more…? (Did Jon’s overall behaviour change in them? Is he still horrified or… not anymore/just plainly curious faced with people’s suffering…?)

* Re:Melanie, there is still the matter of her spending a lot of time away and being “quiet” since she began therapy. It could mean something awful (Web/Annabelle being the prime suspect)… but it also could be. Actual good therapy, working wonders for her.

* Rituals-wise: the status of Corruption is unclear, and we still don’t have anything about Vast (unless MAG141 was touching to it)… and as long as Martin hasn’t pooled his resources with the others, Jon can’t know that The End and The Web are presumably not in the run for a ritual, nor that The Lonely has already failed. So there are still researches to be done, for him, in those directions. (… Though maybe Martin could have told Daisy right after the end of MAG142’s recording…)

* I wonder if Daisy will tell Jon that she spoke with Martin, that Martin was worried about him…? That it’s still possible to talk to Martin…?

Title for MAG144 is out and is…………………… interesting……. If we hadn’t had the Coffin mini-arc so recently, I’d have said Buried, but it’s unlikely, so… The End, maybe? Something related to MAG065 and/or about technology and/or about tape recorders? Something about The Web’s intentions? Vast thing, and they’re digging Mike Crew out of his grave?? Lonely one and it’s actually about the graveyard/their failed ritual? I’m mostly considering Beholding stuff – Gertrude’s notes, Elias’s plans, the tunnels under the Institute and/or the thing in Alexandria and/or Schwarzwald, the specific book that Albrecht had first sent to Jonah, or a Jon first-person statement (à la MAG040 and MAG080) about the last three weeks? I don’t know but… it’s an interesting title.

#1 #2 #3 #4 #5 #tma liveblog #tma season 4 #mag143 #the magnus archives #long post/#tma spoilers/

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cutegirlmayra · 5 years

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could you possibly write a lil prompt about the boom! crew on the beach? it's cliché i know, but im a sucker for those stories! (maybe sonic admiring amy's swimwear \( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)/)

The typical anime episode. -siiiighhhhh- lol, sure thing! but don’t expect anything much ^^;

Prompt:

“It’s been ages since the sun shined.” The Sonic gang was sprawled out in different poses around Amy’s home, stuck in from the thunderstorms that had been occurring unusually around the area.

Sticks groaned again, “It’s got to be from shooting the moon. It broke the ozone and made the sun scared to show its face again!” she flopped her arm over her eyes.

Amy was sitting by the windowsill, looking gloomy as Sonic had just so happened to see her forlorn gaze out the window. He was laying on her couch, one leg relaxing while the other was lifted up a bit.

He made a kind of grunt, sad he couldn’t lighten the mood for everyone.

“Wait, who shot the moon?” Tails, laying his head on the kitchen counter, peered up to puzzle at Sticks’s words.

“Heard it on the news.”

“You can never trust what’s new.” Knuckles, having laid over the t.v, draped his whole being over it and shook his head.

“I’d give anything for the beach.” He whined.

“That’s it!” Sonic sprung up, bouncing on his butt a moment. “We’ll have a beach day!”

“Eh?” Everyone turned around, not sure what he meant.

“In this weather?” Amy’s face looked skeptical, but he gave her a signature wink and thumbs up.

“Trust me!”

—-Eggman’s layer—

“Whohoho! With this new device, I can alter the weather at my leisure! And you know what they say, without the sun, your mood can change. So! Let’s watch as Sonic and his pathetic friends lose the will to fight back against my Eggmanland theme park invasion this time!” Eggman took a rather large telescope and peeked through its eye.

His sight began to travel at lightspeed before reaching the window that Amy was once looking out of.

“Hohoho… wait…” He glared as he stuck his eye further in, “This can’t be!”

Both Cubot and Orbot looked at one another, confused.

——Amy’s house—–

Amy was rubbing some sunscreen on before Knuckles turned the container over to reveal it was actually mayonnaise. Amy looked disgusted at first, shocked at realizing what she was rubbing on her arm, but Knuckles happily stuck a finger in the container and started eating it. Amy laughed, deciding to let it slide.

She and Knuckles were in swimwear, Amy wearing a cute ruffled one-piece and Knuckles in huge blue and white shorts.

“Cowabunga!” Sonic held his nose and breath, jumping into a pile of pillows as Sticks pretended to be deep sea diving in the sink, peeking up and spraying water out of her mouth, hitting Amy and Knuckles.

“Hey!”

“Hehe, watch out for the splash zone!” Sticks teased before Sonic threw a pillow and hit her in the face. “Oi!”

“I’ll show you the real splash zone!”

“Straight from the Antarctic?”

“You and your-”

“Hey! At least she’s conscious of it.”

“Not you too…”

Sticks still had her normal clothes on, but Sonic wore a white T-shirt that had a pink and yellow surfboard on it, spelling out- “BEACH BUM” over the image in big yellow and blue wave graphics.

“Haha! Since when did you like the ‘water’, Sonic?” Tails teased, kicking his legs out by the couch, pushing some pillows. He had on a full surfing attire, black with orange stripes.

“Since the ‘water’ isn’t wet!” Sonic teased, throwing some pillows at him as Tails grabbed one and they started ‘splashing’ each other with heavy blows.

“Roughhousing never had so much meaning before.” Amy rolled her eyes, making the pun as Sonic looked up from Tails.

Everything went slightly slow motion, Amy sitting on the counter and shaking her hair out from Sticks’s playful waterspout from before. The drops flew around as she laughed, and Sonic quickly was distracted from Tails’s final attack.

“Ha!” Tails pushed him under the pillows, “Got ya!”

“Uncle, uncle!” Sonic waved a hand out as Tails let him up.

“Oh yeah!” He flexed, “King of the wave!” he winked back to the others, but Knuckles just kept rubbing mayonnaise on himself and gave a haughty snicker.

“Haha… Clearly, you have yet to experience my full power!” Knuckles dabbed some on his nose then charged into the pillows, “Cannonball!”

Sonic and Tails were flung with the pillows “Woah!” as Knuckles stood in a fetal position and peeked an eye open.

Sonic and Tails were sprawled out again, laughing.

Sonic looked up to see Sticks still splashing water at Amy, Amy trying to playfully stop her.

Again, the giggles and slow-mo’d caught Sonic off-guard again. “Hehe, no Sticks, stop~”

“Watch out!” Tails cried out, shaking Sonic out of it as a pillow flew into his face, pushing him off the edge of the couch’s backrest he had been pushed out onto.

“Offph!”

“Sonic!” Amy stopped her antics with Sticks and ran to his side.

The others followed after her, as Sticks pushed everyone aside, “Let me see…” she picked up his foot and tried to listen for a heartbeat. “Nothing. He’ll need CPR.”

Amy’s face flushed, ‘This is it! This is the moment I’ve-!”

Knuckles shoved everyone away, pulling Sonic’s head up, “No! As Sonic’s best friend, I’ll-”

Tails was about to push him away, mouth open to complain, but looked back to Sonic’s unconscious expression and realized that if he argued that he was Sonic’s best friend… he might be expected to do it.

So naturally, Tails coughed and gestured for Knuckles to proceed, pulling out a camera to mock Sonic for the rest of his life with this gold.

“K-Knuckles, you really shouldn’t though.” Amy nervously tried to place a hand on Sonic’s chest, pushing him down and away from Knuckles’s tight hold on him.

“Why not?” Knuckles looked offended, but also slightly sad she would suggest that. “Am I not worthy?” his eyes teared up.

“N-no. You’d be a great lifeguard! It’s just…” Amy thought fast, “Mayonaise! Oh, Sonic’s terribly allergic.” she fibbed.

“R-really?” Knuckles looked himself over, covered in it.

“Oh yes, and it’s all over your face too…” Amy sneakily pulled Sonic towards her as Knuckles’s grip loosened.

“Y-you’re right.” He sniffed, rubbing his nose. “I only make things worse.”

Amy’s fake smile dissipated. “Oh, Knuckles, that’s not true-” she turned sympathetic before Knuckles reached out for Sonic again.

“Then we’ll risk everything!” Knuckles pulled Sonic back.

“Like I’d let that happen!” Amy’s kindness had it’s limits as the two aggressively fought and tugged Sonic’s body back and forth between each other.

“It’s like a real-life drama.” Sticks looked unimpressed, “Only this season’s conclusion is either gonna end in joy or horror.”

“He’s mine to save!” Knuckles pulled.

“He’s mine in GENERAL.” Amy hollered back and gave a forceful tug back.

Tails watched the scene, not even bothering to record it as he sighed.

“T…Ta..Tahils..”

He heard something and watched as the corner of Sonic’s mouth moved slightly, “Ghet Knuxs off of meh.” he slurred a bit, trying to play dead.

“…Huh?”

——–Eggman’s Lair—–

Eggman’s face was highly fixated on the scene before him. On one hand, he wanted them to tear Sonic apart, but on the other hand, he was also interested in how this season would end.

“Doctor, perhaps we could-”

“Shhs.”

“But you can’t even hear anything! We just want to know what you’re looking at!”

“I said hush! You annoying bags of bolts…” Eggman grumbled, pushing and shooing Cubot and Orbot off from their obsessive clinging to the crook of his elbows.

They finally began to struggle a little more, curiosity getting the better of them as Eggman had to look away to fight them off.

“You insufferable-!” he looked back, but by the time he did, Sonic was rubbing the back of his head, nervously smiling as both Knuckles and Amy covered their faces and turned away.

Tails looked mortified as Sticks stuck a finger in her mouth to show her disgust, but then laughed and pointed at Sonic.

“No…no, what happened?” Eggman zoomed in more, but the rains poured over the windowsill, causing his vision to become obscured.

“NOOOO!!!!”

After a painful lesson, Eggman turned the weather to normal and destroyed his machine.

As the team went to a real beach day, gathering their gear and beach baskets or bags, Eggman watched safely away from the scene, laying on his chair with opera viewing spectacles.

“But what are you watching, Eggman?” Orbot asked again, this time Cubot chiming in too.

“Yeah, when do we ever get to watch your adult sitcoms?”

“HUSH.” he growled through gritted teeth before snickering as he watched Sonic splash Amy, coaxing her into a fight as she raced from the water and chased him down the beach.

But then, Sonic tripped and rolled to face-plant into the sand, leading Knuckles to slow-run over and pick Sonic up again.

The Sonic crew all shook their hands out, exclaiming, “NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!”

#sonamy #boom!sonamy #sonamy boom #cutegirlmayra #sonic boom #sonic boom prompt #sonamy prompt

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calliecat93 · 5 years

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RvB17 Episode 9 Review: Succession

You know something that's gotten on my last nerve dear readers? Nostalgia banking. What should be a good feeling about seeing something that you once loved and haven't seen in so long has now become a cheap cash0in for the media. It's now just lazy and downright insufferable with the constant reboots and remakes of nostalgic properties, like every Disney thing ever in the past decade. Why am I bringing this up? Because while it's nowhere near as bad as with other things, this season of RvB is very much counting on nostalgia to help win it over, just look at the Freelancer fan-service in Episode 5. It was fan-service that made sense in context in all fairness... but still fan-service. And that is the ONLY excuse as to why we're doing Felix again.

Alright, let's quit with the bitching and get to the reviewing.

Overview

Tucker has gone back to S11, at the moment where they lose half the team tot he Feds at Crash Site Bravo. The problem causing the paradox? Genkins has possessed Lopez Dos.0 and is making it so that the Reds and Blues win. As such, Tucker has to ensure that they lose and recreate the circumstances that lead to one of the worst days of his life. Damn,t hat's harsh bro. But he does it, even taking one of Genkins' attacks at point blank since Genkins still can't harm a shisno. Tucker takes him down, and as such aside from some minor differences, the overall conditions go as they are meant to. Genkins retreats.

The scene cuts to later, where Felix is talking to Tucker about what happened and it's still when he had his good guy facade. Tucker I going along with it... until he starts hearing voices telling him to kill Felix. The voice? Genkins, who jumped into the AI module in Tucker's armor. He tries to convince Tucker to kill Felix before he can betray them... but Tucker refuses. There's already a plan in place, and not even Genkins reminding him that it's Donut's plan deters him. He recalls how, since Chorus, he's tried to act as a leader should... but in reality, he just acted even more like an egotistical battle. But now he realizes that a leader is someone who steps up and does what needs to be done, something that Donut has so far done moreso than anyone else. Realizing that he's failed, Genkins retreats once more.

Tucker goes back to Iris, the agreed meeting point, where Donut already is. Sarge comes back briefly... where Donut informs him that he caused a Paradox, so Sarge goes away to... probably deal with that. This makes Donut concerned that maybe he didn't explain the plan too well... only for Tucker to tell him that he's doing perfectly fine. Donut's touched, though Tucker tells him to quit acting like an angsty bitch, so we can't get too happy feelsy. With that encouragement, Donut jumps to at some point in S7, where he confronts Genkins in The Meta. It is at this point that Donut points out something. Chrovos doesn't give power, she takes it. There is no guarantee whatsoever that she will hold up her end of the bargain with Genkins. Will Genkins really get the ultimate power that he wants? This seems to affect the Trickster God, as he jumps out.

Meanwhile, Wash and Carolina are talking at a cliffside where Carolina again apologizes for her actions in the last season. Wash is still forgiving, even kind of glad that he got to experience a period without brain damage for a little while. Yes my friends, there is still one more paradox that has to be fixed: the last one. The one that began all of this to begin with: Wash being shot. He knows that, in order to save the universe, it has to happen and he seems to have come to terms with it. Carolina is understandably not happy to hear this. She's downright tearful, but in the end, she understands that it has to be. Wash emphasizes that regardless of everything and no matter what happens, he loves Carolina before jumping. Carolina takes a moment to compose herself before she follows.

Back in Chrovos' domain, Genkins returns and Chrovos... she's not unhappy but she's not pleased either. Why? As it turns out not only are no new cracks forming, but all of the previous ones are now disappearing due to the damage being repaired. Only a small amount remains now, and Chrovos wants to know what's going on. Genkins reports about the Shisno being awake, which seems to... make Chrovos throw in the towel. Genkins has utterly failed and since she can't go and do anything herself, it means that soon the paradox will be undone, the Gods will have Genkins pay the price for his betrayal, and the only pleasure that Chrovos will get is it hopefully happening in front of her as she remains prison bound for all of eternity.

Genkins, however, says that he has a plan. He points out how Chrovos used time to bring back Donut and place him somewhere before. If he can do that tot he Reds and Blues, they'll be out of the way and Genkins can cause as many paradoxes as he wants. But he doesn't have the power to do this alone... so he asks Chrovos to give him a portion of her's. Chrovos is reluctant since she doesn't have much left as it is, but Genkins points out that all she has to do once freed is kill and adsorb the Reds and Blues energy, and she'll be restored. Genkins, likely out of desperation, complies and transfers the majority of her remaining power. This causes her to collapse, her armor even changing from black to white. She tells Genkins to hurry... but the Trickster God reveals his true intentions. He's going to go back, put the Reds and Blues out of the way, and weaken the prison... so that he can kill Chrovos and take over with the power that she gave him. Chrovos can only take in her error as Genkins goes back tot he Everwhen.

We cut to Season 15/S16's finale where Wash takes in his final moments before getting shot. He begins to walk forward, the others possessing their Season 16 selves, as Wash tosses aside his own gun and holds his arms out. We hear the sound of a gun go off as the scene cuts to black. But, this is not the end, as when the scene cuts back we see the pullet... frozen. In fact, everyone is frozen. Why? Genkins. He appears and informs the group that he's paused the moment for just a bit as he goes to take care of other matters. The bullet drops to the ground and Genkins bids the Reds and Blues farewell, off now that he has all of the time in the world.

Review

This is definitely better than the previous two episodes. IDK what it was about the last two, but they felt... rather rushed and all over the place. Like they wanted to do some character development stuff, but because they only have so much time they had to condense and squeeze it together and... that really made them a mess compared to the episodes before. But thankfully, this one put us back on track. It was emotional, raised the stakes in a way that I did not see coming, and has one Hell of a monster ending that left me utterly anxious. Compared to 7 and 8, which had good moments but was again very condensed and a Hell of a lot confusing, this one had me hanging on every second.

So... let us return to our nostalgia banking topic. As I said above, it's lazy and a cash-in at this point. Now this being a time travel season, I understand that we'd go back through some nostalgic moments. And again, in all fairness, the fan-service moments with the Freelancers were relevant and actually helped advance the plot without being forced. The Mercs though... while they thankfully didn't overpower the plot, going back to them... honestly had zero relevance in comparison. This is probably just me being salty because I've honestly just gotten sick of the Mercs because of how much they get hyped and such. They... or Fel9ix at least, have completed their roles and I want to move on form them. I want to move on to new stories and plotlines, hence why I want Church and Tex to stay dead too. There's this underlying feeling, to me anyway, that this season is relying on the past to get people into it, not moving forward. Although, last season tried that, and many people hated it, so what do I know?

Speaking of the reception to last year... yeah that is the only reason we have Felix and why we had a focus on Tucker. I feel like this moment was Jason, who wrote the episodes and therefore the Tucker scenes that fans had issues with including the infamous talk with Sister, apologizing for the Tucker 'derailment'. And yes, I put derailment in quotes. I know that some felt like Tucker was OOC in the previous season and to a degree S15. He was egotistical, womanizing, and people felt like it was a regression. There was a LOT of push-back on that, so having Tucker relieve one of his worst moments and have to outright re-create it and realize how much he's messed up as a leader up to now felt nice. It's Tucker not acting in a way that he thinks a leader should, but stepping up and doing what has to be done. It's a nice moment of character development and I really hope that it pleased the Tucker fans.

But... my issue is... I didn't think that Tucker was regressed in the previous seasons. He did step up when he needed to. Maybe not so much in 16, but he absolutely did in 15. He is a womanizing asshole, that part of his character had never been addressed at any point until then and yeah, it was a problem. And it's not like they demonized him, he was supposed to realize how bad he had gotten after Sister's verbal beatdown and when he realized what happened to Wash. Oh, and he has yet to take responsibility for proposing the plan that caused the paradox, to begin with, most of that has been on Carolina which is annoying. Don't get me wrong, it is good to see Tucker realize how he fucked up as a leader and can become better and this was a good moment to have him realize it. But it feels unnecessary to me because his character had been fine and we again have to have a nostalgia moment for it. IDK, it just... annoys me. It's a good moment, but I'm mixed about it for the above reasons.

Okay, let's try and talk positively now. Like Wash and Carolina having a moment Yeah, this was going to come sooner or later. We all knew that for this mess to be fixed, Wash was going to have to be shot. He's come to terms with it, knowing that it has to be for the universe's sake. That doesn't make it any less hard though. Carolina broke time to save Wash. Was it ultimately a bad decision? Yes. But it's understandable why she went that route. She made a mistake, one that she is still apologizing for, and wanted to spare Wash of the pain. Not out of guilt, but because she genuinely sees Wash as family and can't stand him being hurt. Jen Brown's absolutely tearful, heartbroken delivery was so perfectly done. You can feel how hurt Carolina is as she has to accept that her efforts were in vain, and outright made things worst. Wash has to be shot. He has to endure cerebral hypoxia. They can't undo the consequences, they have to live with them.

And you know what? Good. Mind you we still have three episodes to go... but I want Wash to keep the brain damage. Look, it sucks that it happened to him... but in the end, it happened. Brain damage is terrible, but you can keep living with it. Wash is still a strong, capable soldier and he still will be even with cerebral hypoxia. He'll only be broken if he allows himself to be. Will he struggle? Of course. Will he need more help now? That goes without saying. Does that make Wash any less of the character that he was? Hell no. Wash has proven multiple times that he can pull through some terrible shit, including having an AI try to kill itself while inside his head. Wash can, and will, get through this. Now again, we have time still so they could find an alternate solution... but I really, really hope that they stick to Wash being brain damaged. I think that there are plenty of people who can be inspired by him and it can take his character, and everyone else really, into some new directions that could be good. We'll see how it goes, but I do hope that they stick to this.

But of course, if it does happen, we're still going to wait a while. Why? Because Genkins is an asshole. Yeah, I... I did NOT see that moment coming. I guess I should have since Genkins is an absolute shit, but... no, I honestly did not see his betrayal of Chrovos coming. The guy really is the God of Tricks, huh? I almost felt bad for Chrovos... almost. Yeah, she still manipulated and hurt a ton of people with her actions so she's still a bitch who kind of had it coming. But Genkins having her power is far worst since he's just outright chaotic. Who knows what the Hell he's going to do now that he can control all of time and can kill Chrovos himself to have all the power to himself. I do kind of like how this was almost framed as a redemption, what with Donut pointing out the uncertainty of Chovos keeping her word. But nope! Genkins is just as evil, and he essentially killed the queen to take her crown. I hate Genkins with a burning passion... but he is a fantastic villain and I fucking love it.

Final Thoughts

We're three episodes away from the end, and I'm still not sure how this is all going to end. While I am certainly mixed on some of the time travel usage and on Tucker's moment, it was overall well handled. And any misgivings I had about it I can forgive for Wash and Carolina's moment and the Genkins betrayal. It was a great episode filled with emotion and surprise, and I am still coming down from it. Will the final few episodes be able to hold up? We shall see in due time... get it? Time reference? Haha... yeah... yeah, I'll just... end the review now. Tootles!

#rvb #rvb17 #rvb spoilers #rvb reviews #callie reviews

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jungnoir · 6 years

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lullaby;

lee jeno | you share a moment with jeno in the moonlight. boyfriend!au. | 2.6k words. | insufferable fluff and head swirling kissing.

a/n: inspired by this edit on twitter for jeno’s bday ;-;

“I can’t sleep,” a soft mutter against the base of your neck wakes you from your doze and a lick of irritation plays at the back of your throat in the form of a growl, one that rumbles just loud enough into the night for your boyfriend to hear and then laugh at, “sorry, I thought you were still awake too.”

You turn your head, forcing Jeno to move his face back so that you two could look each other in the eye. Your arms are thrown out on either side of you: one is stuffed underneath the pillow your head currently rests on and the other is going numb under the weight of Jeno’s head. He lays, curled up into your body like a child to a pillow, long fingers clutching some part of you to him in the dark. As far as you knew, Jeno hadn’t moved at all while you “slept”. Sleep wasn’t as good of a descriptor when one was going in and out with every new topic their boyfriend brought up next. He was never quite this talkative usually. You claimed he was a moon child and that’s what brought it out of him so late at night. “If I was awake, I’d be talking to you.”

Jeno takes no offense to your brisk tone, simply beaming under the moonlight he insisted you crack your blinds open to let flood your room. “Good thing you’re awake now.”

Is it? You think quietly, blinking hard and long to rouse yourself. You’d gotten a power nap’s time in so you weren’t at a total loss. Attempting to move the arm Jeno occupied, you find it tingling with the first movement it had seen in the last hour or so. Jeno notices and sits up slowly, “Is your arm numb?”

“Yeah, thanks to your big head,” despite your sleepiness, you crack a smile at him and feel his fingers pinch the skin of your stomach in retaliation, “I’ll live.” You drag your arm to yourself and resist the urge to roll over and try to fall back asleep again. You know full well if you try he’ll surely wake you again, but the thought is tempting. You don’t know what time it is at all; the moon can only tell you so much.

You feel the weight shift around you and Jeno’s silhouette looks imposing in the darkness like this, but you know better. You feel nothing but safe and warm when Jeno is near.

You feel him beginning to straddle you as you reach for your phone on the nightstand where you left it, fingers expertly grasping at the edges and bringing it to your face. The brightness that hits you makes you grunt in distaste and another of Jeno’s laughs ring out in the silence. You turn the phone around to shine the light in his face in retaliation and grin when he winces, quickly pushing an arm up in front of his eyes for defense. You resist the urge to tease him any further, knowing that with where he’s positioned and experience with countless moments like this very one before, tickling is not out of the question.

You finally see the time, a bold 12:07 reading back to you along with a list of notifications underneath it. Most are messages you have yet to answer, others being the occasional notifications you ignored on a daily basis. Sliding one message across, you begin to answer it.

“Who are you texting?” Jeno asks lazily, dropping his head on your chest as you comfortably maneuver your arms to rest on his back, phone held high enough to see over his bedhead. His question is not invasive or demanding and you can tell he just wants to talk, but there’s a bit of something pouty in his tone that makes you stifle a snicker when answering.

“Some friends of mine.” You answer back vaguely.

You feel Jeno hum against you, arms resting at your sides idly. You’re still tapping away, texting your friends who you’re not surprised are still awake on a Friday night like this. They weren’t upset at you for going AWOL after Jeno had sneaked his way into your house at sundown, mere minutes after your parents peeled out of the driveway to head to a family friend’s party. You knew they would be out all night when you called Jeno to come by. You could even hear the obnoxious little bell on his bicycle ringing its way down the street to your house before he even reached the driveway.

Your parents didn’t mind Jeno being around late, but this was when they were present in the house. Jeno, being the gentleman he was, never overstepped his boundaries... unless you were involved. You had quite the way with words and had convinced him more times than he was proud to admit to stay a little later than usual. If you were lucky, one of your parents would text you saying they both got a little tipsy and would stay the night. It wouldn’t bother you one bit to be alone here with Jeno until the next morning. And, what with Jaemin keeping up the “Yes, Mr. and Mrs. Lee, Jeno is staying the night with me” act, you two were in the clear.

Jeno was also incredibly easy to predict: after he ended up insisting he leave, he would make his way to Jaemin’s house for real and game his heart away until the next morning when he inevitably woke you up with a good morning text chock-full of typos. Even sluggishly, he tried his best to be the romantic one.

Tonight, however, you wished he’d stay forever.

It wasn’t that you had trouble sleeping without Jeno. In fact, you slept perfectly fine on your own and had been doing so for the last eighteen years of your life. There was just something about sleeping next to Jeno that took the cake though; maybe it was his need to comb his hands through your hair, fingers gently scratching at your scalp in the most delicious way and leaving you like putty in his arms. Maybe it was the way his body was never too warm or too hot, always comfortable to sleep up against no matter the season. And maybe it was the fact that no matter what, Jeno would always send you off to sleep with a kiss. His kisses left you lightheaded and sent you into dreams of him, and those always made you rest easy.

You were both still young, the relationship much younger, but Jeno felt timeless. The moment he entered your life in ninth grade felt like he’d been there since birth. His soul fit yours almost perfectly, and while there were still cracks and openings, those were things you didn’t mind working on if it meant to be filled with the rest of him.

You never felt pressured with Jeno, never shy. You just felt his overwhelming warmth and the invite to take it slowly.

You must’ve gotten lost in your thoughts of Jeno because you feel the boy rustle in your hold, resting his chin on your chest and blinking up at you under the dim light of your phone, “Moonlight, you still with me?”

You quickly focus on him, flustered by the nickname, and your phone falls and hits Jeno on the head.

His little groan of pain instantly awakens your protective instincts, your hands flying to the back of his head to cradle it. “Oh, Jeno! I’m so sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.”

Jeno, the good sport he always is, tries to smile through the pain but retrieves your phone from between you where it had fallen and tosses it to the side of you as if to say “take that”. “‘s okay... nothing a kiss can’t fix.”

You let out a little breath of surprise at how quickly he recovers from his pain, already pushing himself up on his elbows and puckering his lips for you to “kiss it all better”. You stare at him flabbergasted, a laugh escaping you at the same time. Poking the middle of his forehead with your finger, he hisses and his lips fall flat again. “Shouldn’t I kiss your head? Not your lips? If I recall, I didn’t hit those.”

“Kisses anywhere work all the same! It’s the thought that counts the most, you know?” He tries to reason with you, scooting closer again. “Please?”

You blame it on how sleepy you are and how in the low light of the room, his pouting expression makes your heart tug in far too many directions to be healthy. You also blame it on the fact that his kisses were a bit of an obsession of yours and you’d be a fool to pass him up when he’s being so brazen (or more brazen than Lee Jeno could normally get).

Hands on his back, you encourage him to meet your lips with his own.

You find it endearing every time Jeno hums in appreciation for your affection. You can feel his lips turning up in a smile but he fights it as best as he can, wanting to savor your kiss for as long as he’s able. When he first shared a kiss with you, he was never so bold as to smile or laugh or do anything but make sure he did everything right. It took him time to realize that that wasn’t what kissing was, nor was any other form of affection. Truthfully, the execution didn’t have to be perfect, it just had to mean something.

Now, when he bumped your arms when going in for a hug or knocked heads in a rush to kiss you hello, he didn’t cringe or withdraw from you. He would smile, giggle, let you watch his eyes disappear as he’d mutter something like a very unapologetic apology before going right back in to do it right the next time.

His kisses had become somewhat bold too; while he still always asked for your permission and never tried to go for longer even if he really wanted to (you had to catch your breaths at some point, of course), he’d come to enjoy the fun that kissing could be instead of the sweaty palms and racing heartbeats. Those still occurred, but only in moderation.

You could feel Jeno beginning to get into it, his hands finding your elbows. Gently, he arches his back and pulls at your elbows, so you let your hands fall from where they once rested underneath his shoulder blades. He has to pull away for just one moment, catching your curious eyes with his own for a second before taking both your hands and linking his fingers with yours. Then, he presses your hands into the mattress above your head and swoops back in to kiss you. He’s a little braver this time around, already making you light-headed. You swear your body has got the consistency of pudding at this point.

You’re really almost down and out, feeling the kiss take over nearly ever bit of your attention, when you’re startled by a vibration near your head. Your phone!

Not even thinking about it, you detach your lips from Jeno’s to look to the side of you, unable to tell what your phone had vibrated for with the screen facing down. Your split-second reaction makes Jeno laugh and then whine, his mouth still very close to yours after having chased it when you moved. “I can’t believe you.”

“I’m sorry,” you chuckle, wiggling your hands in his hold and feeling your amusement rise when he refuses to let you reach for your device, “you’re not gonna let me check it at least?”

He stubbornly shakes his head, trying to go in for another kiss. You decide to ignore your phone for now and indulge him once more, your mind quickly swimming again with bliss as you both fall back into the groove of things. After all, one text wasn’t an emergency...

It’s seconds later that you receive two vibrations this time, one right after the other. You break the kiss again.

This time, Jeno reluctantly releases your hands but whines again, still hovering over you as you reach out to retrieve your phone with a whispered “just a sec” under your breath. Your eyes flit over the screen, the two new notifications made up of button mashes and unintelligible words from one of your best friends about some show you couldn’t remember the name of for the life of you. When you realize it’s not serious, you let out a sigh and take the time that Jeno seems placated to type back a quick reply. Mutters of “you’re not paying attention” paint the surface of your skin in warm breaths, but you hum to satiate him.

You’re just about to press send when Jeno’s lips press to your jaw out of nowhere, a place once undiscovered by the trail of his kisses. His experiment seems to do the intended trick when you drop your phone onto the mattress, hand flying to his shoulder in shock. You can feel Jeno’s smirk against your jaw, the tip of his nose practically tracing your ear, “That got your attention.”

You softly groan at him, unable to be irritated despite the urge to pinch him for distracting you in the least. Regardless of what you do, you know he’ll preen at the fact that he made you lose focus in such a simple way. “You’re relentless!”

“I’m kissing you is what I am,” he moves back from your jaw and you ashamedly note that some of the pleasant fog in your brain that comes with being this near him clears when his lips are that much farther away from your skin, “that is... unless you’d like me to take my kisses and go...?”

His teasing tone is more than obvious enough, moonlight lining his figure in a white glow. It’s late, later than usual, but he stays. He doesn’t insist to leave or whisper worries about your parents coming back without letting you know they were on their way. For once, you don’t have to coax him to stay in your embrace a little longer, and yet here you were... distracted by your phone.

He sees the minute you decide what you’d rather have. Taking hold of your phone again, you drop it on the carpet beside your bed and take hold of the back of his neck, pulling him down and in for a sweet kiss. He relishes in how much emphasis you put into it, reminding him that you were thankful he was opening up that little bit more to you. After all, he wasn’t usually this way. He was doing this because he trusted you, because he wanted to be around you as much as you wanted to be around him and he was comfortable right now. You made him comfortable, made him feel safe.

You peel away just a fraction when you’ve both tired yourselves out with kisses and sweet nothings said between each other, letting him sink back into his spot beside you with his head on your shoulder instead of your arm this time. He presses his face to your neck and exhales, each breath in full of the scent of your lovely shampoo.

“I forgot to mention that that first message I received was from my mom. They’re staying the night.” You say, feeling Jeno tense and then melt all at once. You can’t help but find him absolutely adorable, arms winding around him to pull him closer with a giggle.

“That’s good,” Jeno’s voice is muffled against your skin, “Now we can get up to all kinds of delinquencies... like sleeping.” “You’re speaking my language, honey.”

#jeno scenarios #jeno imagines #jeno drabble #jeno au #boyfriend!jeno #lee jeno #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct drabbles #nct au #boyfriend!nct #nct #nct dream scenarios #nct dream imagines #nct dream drabbles #nct dream au #boyfriend!nct dream #nct dream #majwrites

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misterghostface · 5 years

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.Tapes

When Stan starts his second year of college, he instantly hates his new roommate. But will Richie be able to win him over with his cassette tape obsession? Secret Santa for @sadlysaraofthelosers ! Sorry its late honey, merry christmas! @itfandomprompts

Also a massive thank you to @midnightmillie for helping me to edit!

Read on AO3 here! /// Fanfic playlist here!

When Stan had collected his key from the front desk, he’d been prepared for having an unbearable roommate. He didn’t expect them to be friends, necessarily, but in the worst-case scenario he thought that maybe they’d be able to ignore each other. At least long enough to get through the year in one piece. But later, standing in the doorway of what should have been his dorm room, Stan realised how naïve he’d been.

He dropped his bags into the only patch of clear floor space he could see and sighed, wading through the piles of debris to what he thought could be his bed. If there was one thing he couldn’t stand, it was mess. Stan could already imagine how terrible the next year would be if he stayed here. In fact, he didn’t know why he hadn’t applied for a transfer already – surely, he should phone the accommodation liaison while his mysterious roommate was out somewhere else.

He looked across to the messiest side of the room. He wouldn’t be able to transfer without a good reason, he knew from experience, but maybe there was something here that he could use as evidence that they didn’t get along – maybe an anti-gay poster, or a political t-shirt – just something that would prove a ‘clash in values.’

Stan snorted. As though a lack of basic cleanliness wasn’t a big enough thing to clash over.

After making his way to his roommate’s desk, he bent down, to have a look, hand on his knees. When there was nothing incriminating on the top – just a collection of candy wrappers and packets – he pulled out one of the boxes that had been stashed away underneath and opened the lid.

Inside were rows of cassette tapes, some of them of bands Stan didn’t even know you could get on cassette; The Cure, Led Zeppelin, The Ramones, even one called Wolf Alice, a group that Stan was pretty sure had started making music long after tapes had become obsolete. In the next box he found more of the same.

One thing was for sure, his roommate was not only messy but also a complete weirdo. Who would take the effort to transfer music from a CD onto a cassette tape, if they’re not weird?

Suddenly, he felt guilty. His mind was taken back to his school days, when he used to be called a freak for wearing a kippah or for getting stressed out when there was an uneven number of pens in his pocket. Maybe he was being a bit too harsh. It was unlikely, but maybe Stan just had the wrong end of the stick. He hadn’t even seen the guy yet, after all, and what if he was actually alright to talk to?

Stan sighed, swiping his arm across his mattress to brush piles of his roommate’s underwear, comics and pencils to the floor, and began the process of moving in. He’d give it a week. Just a week, he told himself, and if it was absolutely insufferable, he would see about changing rooms.

But it was going to be a long week.

***

“Who the fuck does work on the first day of college?”

Stan rolled his eyes and didn’t reply, focusing on the blinking cursor on his laptop screen. He was quite glad that he already had an assignment, actually, because it gave him a brilliant excuse to ignore his boisterous roommate.

Their first meeting had been awkward at best, his roommate – who had later introduced himself as Richie – barging in to find Stan meticulously dusting his side of the room. He had beamed and ran over, sticking a hand out to be shaken and babbling at decibel levels that could only be described as inhuman. Stan had just ignored him until he went away.

Obviously, Richie was unperturbed, as he was still trying to start a conversation, looking over Stan’s shoulder and asking endless questions (“What does ‘demographic’ mean?”) about his work for Introduction to Business.

He tuned him out, instead focussing on the music coming from the cassette player – ‘Simple Season’ by Hippo Campus – which was actually just calm enough to help him relax.

Richie leaned once more over his shoulder, pointing at the screen. “Wait... there. You’ve written ‘scold’ instead of ‘sold’. Spellcheck won’t pick up on that since it’s a real word.”

“Oh yeah, thanks.” Stan cursed internally as he looked up to where his roommate was pointing. “Don’t you have any work to do?”

Richie smiled infuriatingly and reclined back onto his own bed. “Nope!” He popped the ‘p’. “I don’t have to do anything but relax my fingers, babe.”

“Your fingers?” Stan turned away from his laptop, fighting the blush that threatened to come upon hearing the pet name.

“Oh yeah, I play guitar, didn’t you know?”

Stan shook his head.

“Damn! Well, if you’re a good boy I’ll play for you sometime, I guess.”

“I’ll pass,” he sighed, but Richie ignored him in favour of whistling to the music. After a minute, Stan realised he’d been tapping his own fingers to the beat.

***

Richie was already gone when Stan had woken up on Tuesday, and for some reason he couldn’t help but feel disappointed. That was stupid, of course – seeing Richie was the last thing he wanted. Or at least that’s what he told himself. He got dressed and left with minimal fuss, which last year he would have loved, but now felt was profoundly wrong.

He was sitting in the back row of a lecture theatre, eyes drooping with fatigue and the collar of his shirt digging into his neck, wanting nothing more than to go back to his room and sleep. He had spent most of the night awake, stressing about the paper he had to finish, and about how little he actually wanted to write it. He was confident that he could get a good grade – but God it was so boring.

He slouched down in his seat, far enough that Mr. Sampson couldn’t see him, and laid his head back on the wooden chair back. He closed his eyes and blocked the lecturer’s voice out. He just hoped he didn’t start snoring.

Shoulders loosening, he started to relax as the voices around him became a low monotonous buzz. Perfect bliss. He sighed happily, feeling himself begin to drift off.

The door banged open, shocking him awake and back into an upright position. “Oh sorry!” yelled a very familiar voice over the blasting of a handheld speaker. “Wrong room!”

Everyone turned to stare at Richie, who had begun to leave the room again, exiting to the very apt tune of ‘Talk too Much’ by COIN. Mr Sampson sighed.

“Alright, class dismissed. Go home and get on with your essays while I go and track down Mr. Tozier.”

Stan closed his eyes again in victory, then reached down and hurriedly stuffed his books back into his bag. For once, thank fuck for Richie!

With a newfound spurt of energy, he pulled himself to his feet and forced himself through the crowd that was congregating on the stairs. He pushed the door open with both of his hands – free at last! – and forced himself out into the bright sunlight, taking in a gulp of fresh air and taking off in the direction of the dormitories.

When he hurried past the place where Mr. Sampson was laying into an innocent-faced Richie, he could’ve sworn he saw his roommate wink.

***

With Wednesday came heavy snowfall, and with snowfall came news of lesson cancellations after lesson cancellations. Stan laid on his bed, chin resting on his hand and legs in the air, crossed at the ankle. Richie was sitting cross legged on top of his own duvet. They both stared out the window.

“Do you ever feel sorry for the animals, when it’s like this?” Richie asked.

“I don’t really like to think about it.”

“Well nobody likes to, but I can’t seem to help it sometimes.”

Stan tore his eyes away from the snowy scene in front of him and turned his head to look at Richie. Their eyes met. “Yeah, I get that. I wonder where all of the campus rabbits go when it’s this cold. And how the birds cope with their nests being frozen over.”

“I suppose they’re probably fine,” he replied, shrugging and scratching his face absentmindedly. “I mean, they’ve lived through winters before, right?”

“Yeah, you’re right. What’s got you so concerned about animals all of a sudden?”

“Why, am I not allowed?”

Stan frowned, then shrugged. “Sure, you are, I just didn’t recon you would.”

“We’ve only known each other a few days,” Richie pouted, “I think it's fair to say you don’t know everything about me. I love animals, dude.”

Stan smiled, thinking back to the previous winter spent on his ex-boyfriend Mike’s family farm. “I love them too. Have you ever had to brush snow out of a sheep’s wool? It’s so weird, because on the top it's so cold and wet, but at the same time it’s warm and soft underneath.”

“That sounds nice.”

“Yeah! Not that they’re probably supposed to play outside in it anyway, but it seems impossible to keep them all inside for the whole winter.”

“I can imagine. I used to have a friend that lived on a sheep farm. Haven’t talked to him in a while, actually – maybe I should ask him if I can go and feel some moist wool.” Richie stuck out his tongue. “I wonder what he’d say to that.”

Stan laughed. “Probably nothing good if you phrased it like that. Perhaps I should give Mike a ring, see if we can go visit?”

“Wait,” Richie said, now giving Stan his full attention, “do you mean Mike Hanlon? THE Mike Hanlon? Who I used to go to school with?”

“Well if you went to Derry North, yeah, I suppose you must’ve done." His brow furrowed slightly. “That’s so weird, what a coincidence! I didn’t ever expect to find someone from Derry all the way out here.”

“Why didn’t I see you around school too, then?”

Stan shook his head. “I didn’t go there, I met Mike when we were little, at Boy Scouts.”

“Wait, I remember now – didn’t you two date for a while? He talked about you quite a bit.”

“Yeah, and what about it?” Stan bristled. “You have a problem with that?”

Richie’s eyes widened in surprise. “No, of course not! I was just saying.”

“Oh. Well, good. My past roommates usually tried to switch rooms when they found out I was gay, as if I was going to start spying on them in the shower or something. Which I don’t, by the way.” Stan began to relax again, and laid back down to look at the snow out of the window.

“Shame that. I’ve got a cracking bod. You’d be falling over yourself to ask me out.”

“Richie!”

***

Stan’s breath misted in front of him, yellowed slightly by the artificial light coming through the window. One earbud rested in his ear. He was sat on the low wall just outside of the dormitories, red nose poking out over his tightly wound green scarf.

“What are you doing out here, stranger?”

He turned to see Richie standing in the doorway, hands jammed in his pockets and coat unzipped.

Stan smiled. “I could ask you the same thing.”

“Couldn’t sleep.” Coming to sit down next to him, Richie’s teeth began to chatter.

“Yeah, me neither,” Stan admitted, then tutted; “you’re going to catch your death out here like that.” He reached over and grabbed the zipper on Richie’s jacket, pulling it up to his chin and then pulling up his hood, trying to cover his ears despite his unruly hair getting in the way.

Richie laughed quietly and leaned forward until his forehead was resting on Stan’s shoulder. “You’re like my little husband.”

“Yeah right, I hated you at the start of the week,” Stan protested. Nevertheless, a hand snaked around under Richie’s hood to play with his hair. “You’re a menace.”

Richie nodded. “That I am. But I’m irresistible. Don’t feel too bad about it, everyone gets sucked in eventually. It’s just my miasma.”

“Your miasma?” Stan raised an unseen eyebrow.

“Oh, shut up, you know what I mean,” Richie replied with a smile that was lost in Stan’s shoulder. “Anyway, what are you listening to?” He reached around to grab the earbud that was dangling on Stan’s chest and put it into his ear, then sat up and laughed.

“What! It’s my favourite song!” Stan playfully slapped the back of Richie’s head.

Richie looked at him incredulously. “This? This is your favourite song? Are you being serious?”

“Hey, what’s wrong with Mr Brightside?”

“Nothing, nothing. It’s a good song! I just didn’t expect anyone to call it their favourite. It’s like Bohemian Rhapsody, everyone loves it when it comes on but no one calls it their favourite.”

“It’s my mom’s favourite.”

Richie sighed good-naturedly. “Of course, it is. Someone needs to introduce you people to some new music.”

Richie sat up further, and Stan’s hand fell from his hair. His hand immediately felt the loss, and it took a great deal of willpower not to reach up and pull Richie’s head down onto his chest. He stuffed it into his pocket instead, as though the weird feeling he was getting was lack of warmth and not something else.

Richie patted his pockets until he found the one that he was looking for, then pulled out a cassette player. “Listen to this one instead.”

Rolling his eyes, Stan paused his music and pulled out his earbud, replacing it with the one that Richie was offering him. “Oh wait, I think I know this one. It’s by Rex Orange County, right? Mike used to listen to this all the time.”

“I know,” he laughed, “who do you think got him into it to start with?”

“Well maybe you should get me into some new music, since you’re the expert.”

“You know what? Maybe I should. Perhaps I’ll make you a tape.”

Stan hummed. “Why do you like cassette tapes so much anyway? Why not just put all your music on an iPod, or use CDs?”

“My dad used to buy me tapes when I was a kid, and it just went from there I guess,” Richie shrugged. “You were probably expecting it to be a long story, but that’s all there is to it. I’ve just always associated them with happy times.”

Stan smiled and absentmindedly grabbed Richie’s hand. “Nah, I completely understand. It’s like how I’ve kept the cars I used to play with as a kid.”

“Yeah, I suppose.” Richie laced their fingers tighter and squeezed, looking off into the distance. “You don’t really hate me, do you?”

“What? Hate you? No, of course not.” Stan’s brow furrowed. “I was wary to start with but certainly not now. I quite like you actually.”

“Oh good. I quite like you too.” Richie leaned over to rest on Stan’s shoulder, but at the last moment turned his head to brush a feather-light kiss on the hinge of his jaw.

“Richie?”

He stood. “It’s getting late. Come on inside before you catch a cold.” He pulled Stan to his feet by the hand. “We should talk more in the morning.”

“You’re a funny one, Tozier.”

“Just how you like it.”

As Stan watched Richie’s retreating back, he couldn’t help but agree.

***

The accommodation office – a place in which Stan found himself far more often than any other student – was small, cramped, and deeply weaved with the smells of lavender and biscuits. He looked across the desk at Mrs Flint, a motherly woman with crinkled skin and a kind smile, as she pushed back a grey hair with one of her delicate fingers.

“How are you holding up this year, Stan? I was surprised to have not heard from you yet.” She brought up his file on the computer and tapped a few keys on the keyboard. “If you feel like you and your roommate don’t quite fit, there’s a few other people requesting room changes. I’m sure I can arrange something again.”

Stan smiled and wrapped his fingers around the new cassette tape in his pocket. Richie had given it to him that morning, along with a kiss on the lips and an invitation to dinner. “Not this time, ma’am. I think we’ve finally found a winner. There’s nobody else I’d rather spend my time with at the moment.”

“I’m glad to hear that, but are you sure? Last year you barely lasted a month before asking to be swapped around. What’s different this time?”

“There’s something special about this one. I just know it.” He looked behind Mrs Flint at his new boyfriend, who was pulling faces at him through the glass panel of the door. “He’s absolutely perfect, and I wouldn’t have him any other way.”

#it 2017 #stan uris #richie tozier #stozier #it secret santa #fic #mine #my writing

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rubyslipperscollective · 5 years

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we’ve got spirit - an exploration of varsity pep from a cheerleader’s perspective

**an essay from my english class senior year of high school. i reflect on my experiences as a cheerleader (an activity which is no longer in any way congruent with my identity) and on the culture of athletics in my high school**

“And now, please rise for the playing of our national anthem.”

It’s my first ever away game––Friday night lights. Sweaty hand gripping pom-pom, pom-pom pressed against my heart, heart racing. I don’t remember what town we were playing, but it was far. Our buses got lost on the way there; the ride was long. Really long. Long enough for the seniors to get drunk in the back of the bus.

I was 14 years old, 93 pounds, and a terrible cheerleader. I knew nothing about how to balance in the air or support another girl in a pyramid. Thankfully, I had three experienced seniors as my bases. Not thankfully, they were all wasted.

The girls who were seniors when I was a freshman were pretty and mean: just how cheerleaders are meant to be. They treated freshman (particularly the ones who sucked at cheerleading, namely me) as essentially sub-human. At the first captain’s practice, one of the captains insulted my ability to dance until I cried. Probably two weeks later, a different, particularly unkind senior commented that I “looked like a slug” when I was in the air stunting.

The seniors were in charge. They were popular and I was not. They could be as mean as they wanted and there was simply nothing that could be done about it. After they graduated, we no longer had older, more popular cheerleaders to torment us, so Cougar Nation (as our fan section has titled themselves) stepped in.

The student section hates their cheerleaders, treating us about as inhumanely as those seniors did. I’ve been told it has always been this way, but in reality it must have all started when the football team tanked. Four consecutive seasons without a win, including my freshman and sophomore year, are bound to make cheerleaders seem annoying. Any cheer with the word “victory” in it immediately serves as a joke with that kind of losing record. My first ever Cougar Night was a Saturday night home game. We lost 65-0 and a drunken high schooler threw a soft pretzel at me.

Each time I trekked onto the track I was focused less on pep than I was on an internal pep-talk. It’s not personal. They aren’t booing because they hate you, Dani, they’re booing because they hate the cheerleaders as an entity.

But even once the football team was on the rise––nearly winning a state title in my junior year––love for the cheerleaders never seemed to catch on.

The cheerleaders that we see on TV and read about in books are never like me. They always feel loved by their fan sections; they are always confident and popular. I didn’t go into cheerleading looking for confidence and popularity––I went into it because I have a lot of spirit and I didn’t feel like throwing away twelve years of dance classes––but the confidence would have been nice, at least. So it didn’t make sense to me, with all these ideas of what cheerleaders are supposed to feel like, why I would walk away from every game feeling more hated than the last.

I set out to analyze this phenomenon, and started by questioning why students wouldn’t cooperate with cheers even when we were winning games. There were a select few call-back cheers that a select few fans would participate in, but other than that, participation was sparse if present. There seemed to be no direct logic behind this, so my research required some deep plunging into the nature and culture of our varsity athletics. I started, most logically, with the Cougar Nation Facebook group.

The Cougar Nation Facebook group is a necessity for any sports fan in our high school, promoting the attendance and sportsmanship of students at all athletic events...kinda. By promoting attendance, I mean “you better fucking show up you fucking pieces of egg fart” (this is a real quote). By promoting sportsmanship I mean insulting other teams’ mascots, hygiene, and their sexual habits, as well as leading offensive/obscene chants against referees and specific players on opposing teams. And by all athletic events I mean only boys’ athletic events. And maybe a girls’ championship once in a while. At the end of each post they give “shoutouts” to people who, in the past week, have drank impressive amounts or hurt themselves in some idiotic way. Girls only receive shoutouts for instagram posts that expose notable amounts of their bodies.

The culture of our sports fans is to be as obnoxious as is humanly possible. In attending sporting events, they aim not to support student athletes, but rather is to piss off as many people as they can. The atmosphere they create is not conducive to the growth of anyone involved––student athletes cannot perform well under this kind of negative pressure, referees will make calls unfavorable to teams with abrasive fan sections, students who are not interested in drinking and/or being ridiculed by their peers feel excluded from the sports scene, and administrators face heat for having drunk and insufferable high schoolers on their hands.

Even though I was cheer captain this past year, I was never once made to feel invited or included in the promotion of school spirit by Cougar Nation. For this I am thankful. Over my four years as a CHS cheerleader, students’ behavior at athletic events has become something I am ashamed of. All four of my years, my spot for sideline cheers was the closest to the student section, and I essentially became the face of the cheerleaders as far as Cougar Nation was concerned...and never in my life have I held a more thoroughly embarrassing title. As a cheerleader during this past basketball season I was pointed and laughed at for trying to get the fan section to cheer along with the squad at a quarter. During the football season, in addition to being hit with a soft pretzel and a few other projectiles, I have been yelled at to pick up students’ dropped foodstuffs and water bottles (filled with anything but water) and called a number of unfavorable names based off of both my personality and appearance.

When I shout “Yell C-H-S!” into the crowd, nobody responds minus maybe a drunken fan screaming “No, bitch!” It’s not because they don’t like me and it’s not because I am doing a bad job––facts I have had to assure myself time and time again––but because our fans don’t come to the game for the athletes. They come to the game for themselves. Unlike other schools’ sports fans, who go to games to support their friends and express school pride, our sports fans have two alternative goals in showing up:

1. To get drunk (and, subgoal: to not get breathalyzed)

2. To get something entertaining on their Snapchat story.

Cougar Nation doesn’t treat their members nor their athletes with the respect that athletes or students or human beings in general deserve. Even though I moved the entire cheer squad down 30 feet to get the fan section involved on Cougar Night, and I got a surprisingly large number of people to shout with me, respect for the cheerleaders will never be there. There will always be someone rowdy enough to throw a soft pretzel at a freshman and then later demand that she pick up his bottle of vodka when he drops it. It is the nature of The Nation.

And, much like when I was a freshman taking blows from mean seniors, my position is a powerless one. The people who run the Cougar Nation group are popular, I am not. They have momentum––an entire student population––behind them, backing them up. I have only myself. I can’t ask that they cheer along with the words twenty girls are yelling at them when they won’t even allow girls to make posts in the Facebook group, and worse yet won’t advertise for girls’ athletic events. I can’t singlehandedly out-cheer fifteen boys, drunk and shirtless, screaming “bullshit” at referees in the basketball semi-finals. I can’t force conventional school spirit upon kids whose sole desire is to get drunk for Wednesday night baseball games. I can’t change people who don’t want to be changed.

Maybe this just wasn’t meant to be a school with the clean-cut, family-friendly school spirit I was hoping for when I signed up for cheerleading. Maybe our version of school spirit is in fact what all schools will eventually come to adopt––I mean, hey, we must be ranked first in the state for a reason, right? Maybe, someday, a freshman in a CHS cheer uniform will get hit with a soft pretzel and hope to change the ways of The Nation, just like me. And maybe, unlike me, she’ll figure out how to do it.

#essays #essay #cheerleading #cheer #athletics #high school #wow #this is not even me anymore lmao #still a pretty cool essay tho

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lia-nikiforov · 6 years

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Winter 2018 Anime Final Review

Why yes, pretty much all the Spring premieres are done (don’t even remind me haha I’m so far behind) and this is horribly late, I had a busy couple of weeks ;---; and am still struggling to catch up, but here’s my final rundown of this long slow winter! Worst to best, as always.

Dropped

Basilisk Ouka Ninpou Chou: Although I’d said I’d keep watching for the Nobunaga twist, given the onslaught of new stuff for Spring, it’s unsustainable to keep watching something so mediocre I don’t even find anything to say about it. Also Nobunaga hasn’t been mentioned in three episodes.

DUMPSTER FIRE

Darling in the Franxx: So we’re halfway through the show and still feels nothing of importance has happened, except we learned “lesbians are not viable, what a relief” and also KOKORO REALLY WANTS TO MAKE BABIES. The whole Kokoro business is very unsavory because on the one hand the writing is a dick to Walking Fat Joke Futoshi, but on the other hand Futoshi is an entitled Nice Guy who acts like Kokoro has some obligation to return his feelings, so basically everyone sucks lmao. Btw, does anyone know what happened with episode 13? I went to watch it but what I got instead was a Deadman Wonderland episode, complete with the story of Palurdo meeting Lab Experiment-turned-Beast Waifu as children and making a promise that would subsequently be forgotten until they meet again in their teenage years. Jesus, does Womenz are Beastz: The Anime have a single original idea?

How am I supposed to measure my own disinterest and contempt

This basically means I didn’t care for these shows. I don’t hate them but I was aggressively unengaged in them and I can’t really rank them from worst to best because that would imply me having any measurable emotional reaction to them

Violet Evergarden: I don’t think I have much to add about this one that I haven’t said before. Tryhard Sad Anime Girl stories rehashing old clichés with little novelty to them, with a bonus of a super poorly explained and thought out child super soldier tragic backstory that still has me ?????? The final episode has the addendum of trying to redeem That One Asshole in a “he treats her bad because he’s sad about his brother dying sob sob sob he’s totally not a jerk” and i was very annoyed by that.

Koi wa Ameagari no You ni: It’s complicated to talk about this show. I really liked the first episode, hated the 4-6, then was mostly bored by the rest of it. The whole romance angle was completely dropped in the latter half, but I’m not even sure if that’s a good thing given how tastelessly it was being handled in some moments, or a bad one given how bland everything else was. It felt like Akira’s crush on Kondo turned out to be insignificant in the grand scheme of things. It also felt like Akira was profoundly underdeveloped, and it bothered me because Kondo was developed properly. His character felt more fully realized than hers. Like idk, I just cared so little for the last few episodes and it didn’t feel like Akira’s emotional progression was very connected with the first half of the show.

Fate/Extra Last Encore: I don’t even have a screenshot. Apparently the reason the show started so late into the season is that it took a long time to produce, and apparently there are two more episodes that will be released at some point in July. But really, what matters is that I have no idea of what this show was trying to accomplish. The characters were a bunch of pieces of cardboard spouting pseudo nihilistic philosophical nonsense and I don’t even know how to describe the plot. It was generic in its Boss of the Week approach but the execution was often very flat. Definitely none of the fun from Apocrypha’s cool characters was to be had in this iteration of the franchise.

Too much iyashikei

This season we had too much iyashikei and I’m burned out. Here are the ones I didn’t hate but also wasn’t super in love with.

Miira no Kaikata: I think this show would’ve worked better as 3-minute vignettes. 20 minutes of it was a bit too much and I struggled to pay attention. I also felt the dragon and MukuMuku had very tangential roles. I don’t have a whole lot to say. It’s cute, if cute is your jam this show is for you. Connie is best smol monster.

Hakumei to Mikochi: Another cute show that gains extra points for its somewhat unique setting, beautiful color palette and picture book aesthetic and because the two main girls are great characters. I particularly liked the first and last episodes. It’s a relaxing, fun little show

Sanrio Danshi: The harbinger of feminism made into a toy commercial, while not quite iyashikei, is still a slice of life that just occassionally indulged in too much melodrama. It was nonetheless a fun little thing that managed to turn cynical consumerism into a positive message for boys: it’s okay to like non-traditionally-masculine things. One of the details I liked most was that none of the boys had to give up on their previous groups of friends even after “coming out”, Kouta’s friends and Shuu’s team were supportive of them and even participated in their dumbass musical play. Some may even read this show as a not-so-subtle allegory on homosexuality and while I don’t think this was Sanrio’s intent (their intent is to broaden their market, plain and simple) the fact that it works so well with that reading is honestly great. I had very minimal expectations for this show and I’m happy it turned out better than those.

Classicaloid 2: Classicaloid isn’t quite iyashikei either but it fits in the “didn’t love it, didn’t hate it” category. I’m a huge fan of season one, but unfortunately a big part of S2 failed to capture the magic. I think most of it was restored in the second cour, specially with brilliant episodes such as the one where Dovo-chan becomes a super-realistic painting of himself, and the last three episodes really captured what made Classicaloid great. I’ve really come to love this cast, so I wouldn’t complain if we got more seasons (please do Vivaldi!!!)

Shonen is a Good Genre, Actually

Shonen as a genre/demographic is much reviled for its repetitive clichés and childish stories, but I think we live at a time in which we can have well-executed shonen anime that, although falling for the same old clichés, have enough heart and sincerity that makes them enjoyable. This part also isn’t necessarily ranked, since my favorite one will change depending on which day you ask me

Nanatsu no Taizai: Imashime no Fukkatsu: As I have mentioned before, this second season seems to be the polar opposite of the first one’s rapid pace. It’s been a while since I read the manga, but I feel like it took a lot less to get to the mid-season cutoff point there than this anime would lead you to believe, especially the training part felt excruciatingly long. NanaTai has other various flaws including its 1000% not funny harrassment jokes and the dumb introduction of quantified “power levels” (why Suzuki), but characters like Diane, King and Ban give the show a unique flavor. And I’m not even gonna pretend to be unbiased, I just love everything involving Ban, even the weird and questionable choice of bringing Elaine back. I’m excited that we’re finally approaching Escanor’s arrival.

Yowapeda Glory Road: I also forgot to grab a screenshot lmao. Yowapeda is a very particular beast, and with its episode count already in the hundreds, it’s not something I’d reccommend unless you’re super into dragged out ridiculous sports anime. This second season of Onoda’s second year has not been without its flaws either, starting with the, imho absurd persistence in making Sohoku look like underdogs even though they’re reigning champions. It’s made a lot of the first two days of the Interhigh feel a lot grimmer than this cheerful show ought to. Kaburagi is still an insufferable character, and the fact that he drags the team down doesn’t help him either, and I just wish the writers would let Best Boy Teshima win anything. I hope the second day ends on a lighter note, because the gloom and doom is making this a less enjoyable watch than it should be

Mahoutsukai no Yome: I feel a little better about this one knowing the final was anime-original, but at the same time I’m beyond livid with how it was wrapped up. I loved the second half of the series because of how well-written and emotional Chise’s growth was, and everything up to her embracing of Cartaphilus’s curse was a beautiful display of her strength and will to live. What I’m not here for is that asspull wedding whatever that makes no sense in the context of the previous events, especially because after the fact, Elias’s attempt to kill Stella is swept under the rug. This could’ve been my favorite show of the season without that bullshit ending and while I don’t regret watching it, it leaves me with a sad feeling of what could have been

Best of the season

Hakata Tonkotsu Ramens: It had a slow start, but with its endearing cast and well-developed character relationships, HTR won me over, especially the last quarter. The animation was veeery barebones, but Lin and Bamba’s charisma and their organically developed relationship carried the show to be one of the most enjoyable of the season. I also really appreciate the fact that the series includes a gay couple with an adopted daughter and that Lin’s crossdressing is never used as a joke or treated as a character flaw or a “phase”. I love stories about found families and I’d love to see more of this gang fighting crime and doing shady business in their city of assassins.

Garo: Vanishing Line: This iteration of Garo had a somewhat slow start, but boy did it pick up steam in the second half. The action was great -the final fight against King had some incredible stylistic choices, the characters’ journeys felt complete and very human and the story was interesting and different enough from other Garo to not feel repetitive, yet with enough Garoisms that made it feel connected to everything else. Like I said, I love stories about found families, so the way Sophie found a home with Gina, Luke and Sword by the end was very touching. Watching Sophie’s journey has been a treat, and I’m immensely happy that this wasn’t a Guren no Tsuki disaster, but was more in line with the excellence of Honoo no Kokuin.

Gakuen Babysitters: This was the huge surprise of the season for me, I almost expected it to be pretty dull. Instead it turned out to be super cute and extremely heartwarming. It had a couple of duds here and there, mostly the not-actually-a-pedophile joke character and the early love triangle skits, but the former disappeared and the latter was vastly improved in the second half of the show. I wish Ryuichi’s grief had been dealt with a bit more, but I think what they did show was very well executed and empathetic. And the portrayal of the kids felt very realistic, including both children’s most adorable and most obnoxious behaviors. KIRIN IS BEST GIRL

Card Captor Sakura Clear Card arc: I have expressed some complaints and dissatisfactions with this sequel all through the season. Mostly in regards to the new cards and how the old ones seem to have been forgotten (also the lazy designs of the new cards). In spite of that, Sakura hasn’t lost any of its heart in these 20 years, the characters are still the kids we grew up with. It is an overwhelmingly cheerful and positive show, from Sakura and Syaoran’s shyly developing relationship, to the hopefulness of Sakura’s magic and just the simple day to day life of Sakura and her friends. In spite of all its flaws, Sakura is still my favorite show of the season and I’m happy we get to spend one more season with these characters. Just please give me more Yue???

Ooooof, finally I’m done with this! PLEASE LET’S NOT TALK ABOUT THE 20+ SHOWS I’M SAMPLING FOR SPRING AHAHAHAHA. There’s too much anime. Anime must be stopped, immediately. Don’t hesitate to send me your thoughts about the winter season, even if it seems I’m losing my mind a little Dx TOO MUCH ANIME

#winter anime #anime final impressions #darling in the franxx #violet evergarden #card captor sakura #gakuen babysitters #koi wa ameagari no you ni #fate extra last encore #garo vanishing line #hakata tonkotsu ramens #ancient magus bride #yowapeda glory line #nanatsu no taizai #classicaloid #sanrio danshi #hakumei to mikochi #miira no kaikata #100

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