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nanaminokanojo · 3 years

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Play the Game | Nanami Kento X You | Part 8/8 [COMPLETED]

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one - two - three - four - five - six - seven - eight (final)

"Play the Game" Masterlist

You stood by the door, watching the chaos in your brother’s bedroom as he prepared for his wedding at sunset, waiting for everyone to leave so you can finally speak to him in private. He was, after all, the only one in the family you cared for enough to inform him of your decisions.

People always say you and Gojo were similar. However, those very things that made you alike also set you apart. Besides the platinum white hair and remarkable blue eyes you shared – unique even within the clan – being the absolute obvious, the similarities stopped there.

You siblings were supposed to be akin to one another, but the same things they loved about your brother were the same things people abhorred about you. You and your brother were both prodigies. He was richer than the whole clan, all assets combined being the successful businessman he was ever since he was in his teens. It was as freakish as it was awe-inspiring. You were an artist of great renown with your multi-million dollar pieces and the youngest to have been dubbed as a national artist when you were the same age as him.

But where he basked in fame and acclaim, your prominence was fueled by infamy. Gojo built an empire that served as one of the pillars of the local economy. You produced artistic pieces that inspired execration and controversy. Undeniably brilliant, yes, but absolutely contentious.

Your brother was kind. In fact, he was the best older brother one could ever ask for, and that was not lip service nor was it because of your biases towards him. You can never discount how caring he is to you, how hard he tries to make you happy and how he would go through lengths as to be the idiot just to satisfy your whims. He was just genuinely good-natured although he appeared somewhat insouciant. He had his evil streak, too, which is established in the clan, but his goodness radiated like a light that followed him wherever he went.

However, you have long accepted that your side which reflected Gojo in every way when you were younger had long died. Altruism wasn’t one of your strongest suits and you were only ever affectionate to people you had deep, deep fondness for. And that wasn’t even something common. Even your parents had always been the receiving end of your lackadaisical attitude.

He attracted people, you repelled them. Being surrounded by the good people he called friends was a testament to that no matter how vexing his personality was, and more people want to be near him. Apart from your three friends, you didn't make any more and your school life sucked because majority of your classmates hated you. For what, you didn't know. You don’t think you will ever understand.

It was your seven-year gap that made all the difference, you liked to think. It was much easier to swallow than the concept of the whole cosmos conspiring to create two creatures to be equals but of the opposite nature. Maybe it wasn’t meant to be that way, but you will always be the one looking up to him regardless if you did not choose the same path as his; regardless of whether there were no comparisons with what either of you endeavored to do.

And above everything else, you loved Satoru very much.

“Got a minute?” You began, standing before him in front of the mirror. It was rather annoying watching him struggle with the cufflinks, and you didn’t think he would manage to fix the bowtie still hanging loosely on his neck. Thus, you thought of taking charge. “Give it here.”

Gojo was surprised, but he was nonetheless happy. He wore his heart on his sleeve after all, and you could only guess it was that vulnerability he risked showing that attracted people to him. You have only learned the intricacies of such a matter recently, something you had to agree with since it all made perfect sense.

“Thank you,” he said, tilting his head to the side, watching you work on his cuffs.

“You’re really getting married, huh?” you began, feeling yourself start to falter, but you have decided. You may not have gotten him the best wedding gift materially speaking, but you swore to let him in on what was going on with you, to be honest with him like you hadn’t been for the longest time. “Who would have known?”

“Am I finally getting that emotional pre-wedding sibling talk?” he asked, walking towards the seats by the window and looking out into the garden.

“You’re getting married, not being sent away to prison. I don’t even understand why this happens during weddings,” you quipped, sighing. “But I guess you could call it that.”

He smiled at you, patting the space beside him. You did as you were told, assuming the spot, but also looking out the window, watching as the organizers made finishing touches to the garden below. No expense was spared to make the occasion as perfect as it could get. You couldn’t argue with it. Gojo deserved the best, and to him, Utahime did, too.

“I’m waiting,” he said, breaking the silence that had befallen the room. “You’ve been pacing before the door for god knows how long when you should have been getting ready.”

“I got ready much faster than you did.”

“And you look beautiful.” He tilted his head to the side, eyeing you appreciatively. “Sometimes, I can’t believe you’re all grown up. And what a beautiful woman you’ve become.”

You smirked. “You’re looking at your mirror image after all.”

“Well, there’s that, of course.” He laughed slightly. “But I’m not just saying that because we’re basically the same person. You really are beautiful, baby sis.” He tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear, opting for it instead of his usual choice of mussing your hair since it has already been styled for the wedding.

You just shook your head. “Thank you, Satoru.”

“So, what did you want to talk about exactly?”

“The other day…” Your voice trailed off, thinking about what to say. It wasn’t that way before between you and your brother. He was always the easiest person to talk to, always open minded and optimistic about matters. But now that you were going to discuss something that he had vocally opposed, you were a bit scared of saying anything. Nevertheless, it wouldn’t do Nanami justice if you decided to hold back now, considering that he was more than ready to speak to your brother.

You’ve both initially decided to sit Gojo down and tell him about your decisions together, but you informed Nanami earlier in the day that you needed to have a proper conversation with him first. It wasn’t just your choice to be with Nanami that was the matter, and you wanted to get things straightened out with Gojo before he gets married.

“Yes?” he prompted.

“You said I don’t talk enough to you; that I don’t tell you things anymore.”

Gojo slowly nodded.

You breathed out. “Things changed. We can’t deny that. I grew up and you…well, you’ve decided you want to spend your life with Iori and build your own family.” Your lips curled up awkwardly as you tried to keep your emotions at bay. It was new territory having such talks with him when you’re used to your easy-going dynamic with him. “I’m scared, too. I mean, I can’t just bother you anytime anymore cause you’ll have your wife and eventually children to pay attention to and prioritize.”

He was taken aback by what you said, immediately drawing closer. “What are you saying, Y/N? You’re my sister. Nothing will change –”

“Our bond will not change, dude, but you have to admit that what I’m saying is true.” You took his hand in yours, squeezing it gently. You beamed at the fact that your fingers were structured in the same tapered manner as his. Even the shape of your fingernails were the same, just that his hands were bigger than your delicate ones. “What I’m saying is that even if you need to do that, I will be fine.”

“Of course, you will be. You’re my sister, and above that, you are your own person, and you’re stronger than you think. You’ve been handling things on your own for as long as I can remember.” He pouted, trying to act cute with you. “It’s disappointing, to be honest, because you’ve never really given me the chance to play my role in your life because you’re always the mature one.”

You were confused now. “What are you on about? You’re my only brother, but I can’t imagine anyone else holding that position in my life. You’re the best I could have asked for. I’ve always looked up to you. You’re my role model.”

“I am?”

“Yeah. The fuck are you so surprised for?” You snickered. “That aside, if you felt like I’ve been leaving you out, that’s not the intention at all. I always want you to be the first one to know what’s going on with my life…”

He clucked his tongue. “I understand you’re not doing it on purpose, kid. I’m just worried that you didn’t think I’m worth telling anything because, well, I’m not exactly a proper adult, am I?”

“You’re realizing that now that you’re about to get married?” you taunted him, jabbing your thumb towards the direction of the garden. “Should I tell Iori to call this whole thing off?”

He waved you aside. “Hey, don’t say that!”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Anyway, there’s something I wanted to tell you for a while now.”

“How long is a while, exactly?”

“Years and years.” You flashed him a rueful smile. “I just couldn’t figure out how to tell you because I am not exactly sure how you feel about it although you’ve told me many times you were opposed to it. What I’m saying it that, I know that fact, but it’s the motivation behind it that is beyond my knowledge.”

Gojo’s eyes rounded, realizing what you were saying. “Are you…”

You nodded. “Yes, I am talking about Kento.”

He just blinked and stood up, pacing around in front of you for a while that you had to stop him from doing it. He had such a bad habit of doing that when he is in deep thought, and always in front of you, too. He was making you dizzy.

You seized him by the wrist. “Please say something.”

“I…”

“Why are you opposed to it?”

He stopped pacing and faced you, taking you by the shoulders, his eyes starting to water. “Y/N…”

“Oh no, are you gonna cry?”

He furiously blinked his tears back, the action almost comical if it weren’t for the serious look on his face. “Because you are my little sister. You think it will be easy for me to just hand you over to anyone? My friends aren’t exceptions to that although I trust them with everything that I have. I will always, always worry about you when it comes to that matter because I don’t want you to get hurt. I don’t want you to be taken advantage of, and I don’t want to have to break either Suguru or Kento’s bones when the time comes.”

“I can manage the latter on my own.” You sighed, finding your resolve strengthening. “But like you said, I’m this old now. I want you to understand that I know what I am doing and I am confident about my decisions. Honestly, I didn’t want to talk about this as if I am asking for your permission. This is what I meant when I said I will be fine. I am not saying you don’t have a say in my life, but I am telling you this time because I want you to know before anyone else does.”

“Suguru doesn’t know?” he asked, eyes sparkling.

“Don’t be petty. I tell him things I can’t tell you just like you tell him things you can’t tell me,” but you nodded anyway. “He doesn’t know yet…I think.”

“So…you and Kento…”

You nodded again. “I’m in love with him, Satoru. And he feels the same way.”

“You are?” His expressions softened, hugging you to him. “You’ve grown. Really grown.”

You returned the gesture, holding onto him tight. “Please don’t ever think that I am leaving you out of my life because I always want to tell you everything.”

Just then, he pulled back, his brows furrowing while his eyes narrowed at you. “So, why isn’t he the one telling me this? Where is that bastard?”

You shrugged. “He wants to be here. Trust me. I just asked him if I could talk to you first because I have issues to resolve with you apart from my relationship with him.”

Gojo exhaled, nodding in understanding. “I understand, Y/N. But are you certain?”

“Yes. I’m scared of hurting him, but I’ll do my best, I guess.”

“Hmm, yeah. Maybe you should tone down on your mischief, too. I don’t want him dying of stress because of you. He’s still precious to me.”

At that, you laughed. “I know.”

He poked you on the cheek. “Alright then. If that’s what makes you happy, I won’t stand in your way. You have my blessing.” His teeth clenched then. “But I’m still going to have to talk to him man to man in case he thinks he’s off the hook.”

“Worry about your wedding first,” you jibed.

“I almost forgot about that.”

“I’m telling Iori.”

He shook his head, feigning panic. “Don’t.”

You both ended up laughing, joking about the guests who were arriving at the garden, poking fun at the relatives you both detested but had no choice but to invite. Just like that, you were back to how it used to be, easily conversing and sharing the same sentiments about things and same penchant for devilry.

Soon, the organizer came to his room, informing him that he needed to go to the garden to prepare. You reached up and fixed his tie and jacket for him, holding him at arm’s length to appreciate your handiwork. “You’re all set.”

“Thank you.” He smiled wide but you saw the nervousness in his eyes. “I’m getting married!”

“You are.”

“I’m more anxious about seeing Kento after what you told me,” he stated dramatically.

You eyed him witheringly. “Shut up and pull yourself together.”

He snickered then. “Kidding. Let’s go.”

“Okay.”

The two of you walk to the garden, your arm around his. He stood at the spot just by the last row of seats with you, grinning at you when he saw you looking at Nanami who was already dutifully standing on his spot, speaking to Geto.

“Concentrate on your vows, yeah?” you told your brother.

“I’m off.”

“In case we don’t get to talk before you leave for your honeymoon,” you began, “Just know that I am waiting for the speedy arrival of my nieces and nephews.”

Gojo laughed at that, but nodded anyway and said, “I’ll do a good job, I promise.”

“And Satoru?”

“Yeah?”

“Love you.”

“I know, kid. I know.” He turned on his heels and walked towards his place at the front pews while you watched, his steps leading you towards the very man you would want to see standing there when the time comes, his halo of golden locks bright under the setting sun but you knew your future with him would be even more brilliant.

The familiar bars of Johann Pachelbel’s “Canon” began to play in a modified, slowed-down wedding version made especially for Gojo and Utahime’s wedding, played on the harp, piano and violin, cueing the beginning to the entrance of the bridal entourage. It began with the entrance of the flower girls who scattered petals of different flowers on the white carpet that lined the long aisle.

Arches and bouquets of flowers festooned the garden, with gossamer cloth hanging about, interlaced with live wisteria that hung down from the canopy along with fairy lights that progressively turned on as the sky grew darker. White and pink dominated the color palette as Utahime had wished and the same goes for the reception area. It was probably one of the most beautiful wedding setups Nanami has ever seen.

But his eyes weren’t on the ornaments. They were trained on the end of the walled garden, waiting for your ascent on the marble steps where the white carpet extended, the march made more dramatic by the organizers by opting for a meandering aisle instead of the traditional, straight walkway for the bride. And it did achieve the desired effect when you finally emerged from the steps and into view.

He couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips upon finally seeing you clad in that familiar faded rose gown he had first seen being fitted on you to perfection. He kissed you while you wore that very article of clothing not long ago at the couturier’s shop, and though he thought back then that he has never seen anything more beautiful, he was amazed at the fact that you looked even more gorgeous in it as you glided towards the front.

He loved you so much it hurts, and although you’ve both professed your deep affections for one another and decided to take things head on together, he still felt like he was in the middle of a dream he didn’t want to wake up from. You came closer, and once more, he was back at the semi-outdoor ballroom the first day he came that week, beholding the goddess that was you but seemingly in a different light – brighter this time, overwhelming him to the point that he had to remind himself how to breathe when you finally looked his way and beamed unabashedly, your affections towards him unmasked, real and not under the guise of a game.

“Kento,” he heard Gojo say softly just then, the man’s blue eyes furtively glancing at him.

“Yes?” he answered in hushed tones.

“Hurt my baby sister and I’ll have your severed head hung by the gates of the estate,” he said. “Are we clear about that?”

Geto snickered, concealing it by facing the other way.

“Understood,” Nanami said seriously. “I’m counting on it.”

When you were near enough, you smiled at your brother and Geto before turning your attention to Nanami. You winked at him as you passed by before turning towards your spot opposite them across the aisle, your attention trained towards the point where you came from.

He couldn’t stop looking at you, not even when he felt Gojo hold onto his arm, squeezing tight as Utahime came into view. He didn’t mean to be insulting to his friends. She was beautiful in her wedding gown and he couldn’t help but be moved by the loving look that your brother had on his face as he watched his wife-to-be come closer, guided by her father who will give her away as the sun set. It was poetic. A new beginning after a beautiful end. He probably looked the same whenever his eyes would find you.

The ceremony carried on as everyone sat down, waiting for the couple to exchange their ‘I do’s.’ their vows, rings and the much-awaited kiss. It was making him emotional, thinking of the time when he himself would draw your veil and get to claim you as his for life in front of everyone you both loved and cared about. He couldn’t wait for it, and he may be getting ahead of himself, but he wanted what Gojo and Utahime had with you.

As the minister announced the pair man and wife, everyone applauded and cheered for them. He did so, too, chuckling when Geto whistled loudly, being his cheeky self. Just then, he nudged Nanami on the side, grinning impudently.

“Is it safe to assume you’re next?” he queried in the same manner.

Nanami rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “Who knows? Someone might actually steal your heart in the next months and we’ll be seeing you crying as you watch your bride walk towards you by next year.”

Geto snickered at that. “Yeah, right. You looked like you wanted to jump Y/N and replace Satoru and Iori at the altar all this time.”

“Who wants to replace my brother and sister-in-law at the altar?” they heard you say, appearing out of nowhere, your head tilted to the side as you shifted your blue orbs between the two males, but before either of them could answer, you linked your arm with Nanami who smiled down at you blissfully. You returned the gesture, your cheeks blushing prettily under the twinkling lights overhead.

“I see you’ve figured things out.” Geto smirked, patting Nanami on the back just as Shoko came into view, taking the former by the arm, claiming she needed a smoke. She pulled him away, leaving you and Nanami to yourselves, winking as they walked away.

“So, you told him?” you asked, cocking your head towards the wide lawn where the pergolas were, built on three sides of the square and closed by an elevated area for the band, all surrounding a dance floor under a huge, white tent above, also adorned with thousands of lights. It was your design, solely for the wedding reception and a form of gift to the newlyweds.

“Satoru did indirectly when he said he’ll have my head hung at the gates of Gojo Manor if I hurt you.” He shook his head, laughing slightly. “Bastard had the gall to laugh at me, too.”

“He nearly cried when I told him earlier,” you said, regaling him with how your conversation with Gojo went. “He trusts you and is actually afraid I’ll hurt you, too.”

He shook his head. “It’s all part of the process, isn’t it?”

“Mhmm.”

“We’ll take it head on.” He held your hand, twining your fingers together.

You nodded, squeezing his larger hand. “We will.”

Just then, your friends emerged from the reception area with Noabara taking the lead, mischief drawn all over her face as she approached you. “I took care of the sitting arrangement,” she said to you then turned to Nanami. “Take care of Y/N. Make her cry and –”

“You’ll have my head?” Nanami supplemented but Nobara shook her head. “I’ll tan your hide. Satoru gets your head apparently.”

At that, Nanami laughed, nodding nonetheless. But to your surprise, she also turned her attention to you, holding you by the shoulders. “Are you still playing?”

“Nope.” You pressed your lips together, shaking your head slowly.

She smiled then. “Good.” She glanced at Nanami. “You’ve got you a good one here.”

“I know.”

They left you alone after that much to his relief, but then you said, “Wanna play a game?”

His eyes rounded and he felt tension again once he heard you say those familiar words, always the preamble to every single mischievous stunt you’ve ever pulled on everyone including him. He paused and looked at you. “I thought no more games?”

You smirked at him. “One more won’t hurt.”

He sighed, giving in. “You’re going to be the death of me, I swear to god.”

“So, are you in?”

“When did I ever say no to you?”

You giggled. “Great.”

“What is it about this time?” he asked, indulging you.

“Whoever gets a rise out of Satoru first wins.”

“The stakes?”

You just winked suggestively at him.

You forfeited. For the first time, you lost in your own game. It counted – albeit momentary – because you initiated the game…said the very words that began everything that paved the way to the result you’ve always wanted. But you did not really consider it a loss when for the long run, you’ve gained the very person you’d always gladly lose to at any given time.

After you father offered a toast for the newlyweds, the speeches began, starting with Utahime’s parents then yours, eventually moving on to you, then the bride and groom’s shared close friends. Geto had been rather irreverent as usual, pointing out the things that both Gojo and Utahime supposedly disliked from one another yet brought them closer, making everyone laugh when Shoko came up the stage and began her speech, saying, “Opposites do attract.”

You sat on your table with Nanami, both of you waiting for your turns. He was next in line after Shoko, smirking at you as he stood up and walked towards the platform and began his piece by congratulating Gojo, “for landing a very gracious woman who has the most enduring patience I have ever known in all mankind, given the grief that Ieiri, Suguru and I had to endure before Iori came to his life.”

He continued on with his witty address, pretty much reflecting what Suguru said and entertaining the crowd enough when he started to express his gratitude. “While I know that this changes nothing between us as the best of friends – including your nature that tested one’s forbearance – I would like to say thank you for many things. Thank you because you are, well, you…” He did a dramatic eye roll.

The guests laughed.

“Thank you because you are a real person who offered friendship to quiet, boring old me,” he said, droning on about the things he appreciated about the couple before saying the things he was thankful to Gojo about. “And thank you, because without you, without our friendship, I wouldn’t have met the very person I also want to walk this earth with for the rest of my life.”

You would have fallen off your seat when Megumi playfully nudged you if it weren’t for Yuuji who also held onto your shoulders from behind your seat, shaking you excitedly.

“If it weren’t for one Gojo Satoru, I wouldn’t have met Y/N.”

You felt all eyes turn towards you, including your parents and your brother, heat suffusing your cheeks as you tried hard to keep yourself from smiling like an idiot for everyone to see. Nanami has outdone you this time, and you knew you didn’t have a chance to go against that when he had so publicly expressed how he felt about you.

“I love her with everything that I am,” he continued, “and I will continue to do so even without your threat to behead me.” He raised his glass. “To Iori and Satoru. May you have the happiest, most prosperous married life from today and for always.”

Geto whistled loudly while the guests applauded. You also stood up, clapping your hands slowly as you shook your head. You’ve lost big time, backed by the fact that your brother stood up raising his glass as he said, “I couldn’t have wished for a better future brother-in-law.” He then looked at you, smiling fondly.

Nanami got Gojo to state his approval for everyone to hear. You can’t win against that even if you nearly made the latter cry.

And now, you were just happy to be in Nanami’s arms as he swayed you both to the tune the jazz band was playing, your arms hanging around his shoulders and your fingers playing with the hair at the base of his head while he held you against him by the waist.

“So?” Nanami began. “How’s that for a final game?”

“Not bad,” you acceded, smirking at him. “I’ll admit defeat.”

“Damn right, you are.” He smiled down at you, his dark eyes reflecting the muted, xanthic lights that surrounded you. “I have a couple of things I’d want you to do for me, by the way.”

You nodded slowly, keeping a straight face at the mention of his prize. “Rules are rules.”

His brows furrowed slightly. “Then again, you haven’t told me what you wanted when you won a week ago.”

You grinned, burying your face on his chest, listening to the faint sound of his heart. “But I did get what I want.”

“And that is?”

You met his gaze from under your lashes. “You,” you stated in full confidence.

Nanami nodded, suppressing a smile. “If you say so.”

“I wouldn’t wish for anything else.” You pulled him towards you so you could peck him on the mouth. “Thank you.”

“I don’t know what for, but as always, anything for you.”

You chuckled at that. Knowing him, he’ll make good on his words for sure, so much so that you didn’t feel the least bit of worry where your future with him was concerned. “You have to learn how to say no to me.”

“I guess, but since I won, have I finally made it to the list of people you don’t mess with?” he asked.

“As promised, yes.”

“No more games?”

“No more games,” you repeated. “Although I have to say it keeps things interesting between us. Don’t you think so?”

You both dissolved in laughter, the merry mingling of your voices coming to a standstill when he bent down and cupped your cheeks, running his thumb over your cheek before staking his claim on your lips while you returned the gesture in kind, locked in each other’s arms, glad you both played the game. And won.

-THE END-

I would like to say thank you to everyone who read this and kept up with my erratic updating. It's been a good 6 weeks. Thanks!

*I used “you” here, but since my character is Gojo’s little sister who is established to be his female clone for reasons essential to the plot, she possesses the same blue eyes and white hair. I did not exactly want to create an OC (although technically, I did by describing Y/N), but I opted for the best of both worlds in this fic, leaning more towards the literary aspect of it as opposed to it just being reader/you-oriented. I hope this isn’t iffy to anyone, and yeah, i’m not being exclusive or whatever.

Thank you so much for reading. Likes, comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated! Hope you enjoyed it.

PHOTO/IMAGE/GIF/FANART CREDITS TO THE RESPECTIVE OWNERS.

65 notes · View notes

eirikrjs · 3 years

Note

Whilst this may not exactly be a direct source, I believe it is where yubiyubis (sorry if I got the name wrong) may have first heard of that theory about YHVH:

https://megamitensei.fandom.com/wiki/Talk:YHVH

Under section 'If YHVH isn't the real problem, what is?'

I did look for that interview before, but regretfully I never found it. Would be awesome if someone did.

Please have a nice day

Damn, nice catch.

Kazuma Kaneko has gone on record saying that God (or YHVH) is not the source of all evil. In fact, I've heard that it's implied that YHVH's evil-doings are a symptom of something wrong with the bigger picture. But what could that be? Is it possible that part of Man's conception of God is responsible that part of God's character, and in turn responsible for the evil acts? Or is it something else entirely? 20:15, November 3, 2011

And 10 years old. The interview in question is on Megatengaku. It’s the Q&A session from the Doublejump Nocturne guide and the particular question, about “why is the Judeo-Christian God the prominent villain in the series,” is the second to last. Here’s Kaneko’s answer:

This is a delicate question, but as mentioned in the last question there are many mysterious common motifs, like the flood legend, in mythology, so I like to investigate mythology from all around the world. For instance, the aforementioned flood legend, the creation process at the beginning of the universe, a hero going on a journey to overcome trials, and sights at the end of the world, etc etc.

And when I thought about which mythology served as the basis, I concluded that it was the Old Testament. Which means YHWH, the god of the Old Testament, is the basis for all the gods around the world, from a folklorist’s standpoint. Now, I would like you to know that in Megaten, YHWH is not portrayed as the embodiment of evil.

I cut some out but Kaneko begins by talking about comparative mythology only to introduce the “YHVH is the basis for all gods” puzzler that we’ve found has certain corollaries to JJCAT (see Hachiman) and his other comments about Mesopotamian religions. But that’s veering off-topic.

So after not really answering the person’s question, Kaneko abruptly ends with the infamous statement that YHVH is not the embodiment of evil. And... there’s nothing more to it. From Kaneko’s perspective, YHVH is just who he is, the embodiment of Law. That YHVH needs to slaughter all of humanity to get his way may seem extreme, but that exact thing happens in the Bible. You know, the Flood and, eventually, Armageddon.

But on the wiki talk page, notice that Kaneko’s actual “YHVH is not the embodiment of evil” quote has been telephone’d to “YHVH is not the source of all evil.” Thus the onus is on finding a source of evil in the series (of which there isn’t one). And thus immediately after, there’s speculation of “something wrong with the bigger picture” that came from another, currently unknown, source. And this is where I’ll speculate: the idea that YHVH could act so mercilessly and cruel is difficult to reconcile for people living in predominantly Christian countries, where the “loving” God is the cultural standard. Example: the Giant Bomb YHVH page that’s mostly my work from a decade ago, including the deck at the top EXCEPT where someone else added to it “an evil version” and “whose true name is YHWH” (lol, what the fuck) which, as I’ve explained and will continue to explain, misses the point:

Thus, something has to be “wrong” about how this JAPANESE game portrays him (even if the largely Old Testament/Hebrew Bible version of Yahweh they use is somewhat obvious). And I do think that low-key racism has something to do with it. “How can ‘they' understand 'our’ religion?” says someone who doesn’t understand Japanese religion or Buddhism and has never set foot in the country. Alternatively, there’s the more common “why is God always the villain in Japanese RPGs, hur hur hur” line.

But it’s very easy to understand why Japan doesn’t have the most positive views of Western monotheism, which can be traced to the Portuguese Jesuits who arrived on the Japanese islands in the 16th century. They had some limited success but, uh, let’s say things didn’t end well. So there’s the historical angle plus the fact that monotheism is simply antithetical to Japanese culture; (simplified) the Japanese worldview depends on spirits populating everything which informs everything from the veneration of nature to cultural festivals to views of death. Modern Japanese can be fascinated by the monotheistic religions but few actually adopt one as their own.

And think of how silly Christianity would sound to someone unfamiliar with it: the only God in existence had to manifest himself as his Son who had to be killed so that people could avoid eternal suffering before God himself in the end times brutally tortures and destroys all those who don’t accept his form as the Son. Now think about that but there’s white guys brandishing guns at you. Thankfully, Japan managed to avoid colonization.

Anyway, one problem I see in the western fanbase that leads to these types of theories is not fully understanding that most of SMT’s content is adopted from elsewhere (mythologies). Like it’s obviously commonly understood where the angels and YHVH are from but inversely most other demons can be unfamiliar and perceived as general RPG monsters (or caused if the writing is bad, like in Apocalypse), and existing religious explanations for, say, YHVH’s behavior are eschewed in favor of original theories. The game script becomes the only text that is studied or scoured for information and that’s how we get corrupted YHVH and stuff like Hijiri-Aleph. This is when “multiverse” thinking can become distracting and miss the forest for the trees.

Speaking of YHVH, there’s text of his cut from SMT2 that I think offers some pertinent advice in this situation:

Wow, uncanny, huh? But I agree that the official word is the most reliable source of information for SMT that we have. We’ll never know more than the actual creators; like, I would have never known JJCAT was relevant without Kaneko and the others talking about it. And even if Atlus recommends bad books, those books genuinely explain what happens in the games. Speculation is fun, but I think both knowing about and having access to these interviews & more could nip a lot of the wilder theories in the bud.

#shin megami tensei #yhvh #smt #atlus #megaten #kazuma kaneko

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jaskiersvalley · 4 years

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My life has been absolute shit lately, and your blog has been the one constant, an anchor if you will; for me. I've probably blown up your notifications and are prob sick of seeing my little icon and I apologize but you have kept me sane. I just love you so much😭❤

I’m so sorry to hear life has been absolute shit lately! Whatever it is that’s going on for you, I really hope it gets better soon. I’m there in your corner and rooting for you. On a side note, please never feel you have to apologise for blowing up notifications. As a writer, it is one of the loveliest things to see, to have someone enjoy works so much, they make their way through multiple stories. Generally, those usernames are the ones that I’ll remember and grin at going “it’s you again” and be really happy to see. Even if we never talk, regulars in notifications bring a special kind of warmth with them. So all the thanks and love should be given to you for being such a wonderful soul.

As thanks, and as a little something to take your mind off whatever’s been going on, have a strange modern AU.

The shelter where Jaskier worked was a relatively quiet one. They tended to specialise in last hope strays and those that needed a home that wasn’t expecting the animals to be cute, convenient and snuggly. Usually, Jaskier’s role was more to sit with the animals, sing to them and get them used to human presence. Sometimes it took weeks before one of the animals dared approach him or stopped growling at his mere presence. But each time it happened, Jaskier’s heart almost burst with love. He adored every single animal that came to the shelter, broken and hurting as they were. In part, Jaskier felt responsible for them and wanted to make sure that no matter what had happened in the past, their future was as bright as possible.

As well as the animals, there was another reason Jaskier loved the shelter. The people he worked with. Namely, one particular volunteer who came in at least once a week and often more when there was a particularly difficult case. Geralt had a reputation as a take no shit gentle giant. He’d had his fair share of bites, scratches and incidents but not once did he ever blame the animal in question. No matter how many times he got attacked, he returned, worked with the animal and tried his best to win them over. As far as Jaskier knew, he had yet to fail.

Some animals needed more attention than others. They were usually referred to as ‘Geralt specials’ because most of the time, it was Geralt who managed to start working with the animal in question. At that moment in time, there was only one such dog at the shelter, a mastiff cross of some description. She had come in half starved and petrified of any human contact. Even Jaskier sitting quietly on the other side of the door to her kennel had her snarling and snapping, throwing herself at the cage door. Any dog doing that would have been scary, when it was a dog Roach’s size, it was downright terrifying. But Geralt had come in and worked his magic. The first time Jaskier saw him slip out of the kennel, he hd expected to see copious amounts of blood. Instead, he got to see Geralt turn back to the kennel and offer a soft smile before acknowledging Jaskier with a nod.

Over time, Jaskier and Geralt started getting on better and better. While Geralt never stayed around when Jaskier played, claiming he wasn’t fond of the racket, he still seemed to linger nearby enough to catch the softly drifting music without being obvious about it. Their nods to each other had become a few exchanged pleasantries. Then it was chats int he staff room. Or even walking the dogs together, Geralt always taking Roach if possible.

“I’m moving,” Geralt announced out of the blue, Roach sitting next to him, tongue lolling happily.

“Does that mean we’ll lose you?” Jaskier’s heart actually hurt at the idea.

Thankfully, Geralt shook his head. “I wanted somewhere bigger, with a garden.” He looked down at Roach and patted her head. She growled, obviously not in the mood for gentle attention.

It was no secret that Geralt was absolutely doting on Roach. He’d even turned a few potential adopters towards other dogs, claiming she was still a work in progress. Though Jaskier had suspected that, with the right person, Roach would have been ready to leave the kennel. Maybe now, with Geralt getting a more appropriate place for a dog, he could actually adopt her himself.

“Will you not be lonely in a bigger place?” Jaskier teased, hoping to get Geralt to admit to his plans.

“No.” Geralt looked at Jaskier with a frown. “Are you asking if I need a housemate?”

Laughter bubbled up in Jaskier’s throat at that and he shook his head. However, he didn’t push the matter any further.

Days went by and Jaskier was called to the front desk. Two men, built like small mountains were standing there. While they looked nothing like Geralt, there were enough shared mannerisms that Jaskier had to wonder whether they knew each other.

“We’re here to adopt a dog called Roach,” the smaller one said.

Priscilla at the desk looked quite stricken. They all had been hoping Geralt would adopt her soon. But, as Geralt had said, moving was expensive and disruptive. He couldn’t bring a dog into the home if he couldn’t safely provide for them.

“I’m afraid Roach isn’t up for adoption just yet,” Jaskier tried to worm his way out of it. “I would be more than happy to show you a few other dogs though.”

“It has to be Roach,” the man insisted.

The other guy finally spoke up. “Sorry, to clarify, we’re Geralt’s brothers. I’m Eskel, this is Lambert. He’s been working with that dog for so long and hasn’t shut up about her. At first we thought it was two dogs, but we’re not sure who would name a dog Jaskier.”

Snickering, Jaskier nodded. “I’m Jaskier. Geralt won’t shut up about me?”

In testament to all of Geralt’s hard work with Roach, she greeted Lambert and Eskel in a civilised fashion. Which made more sense when Eskel admitted he was wearing a hoodie he stole from Geralt.

“She can spend the night at mine. Geralt’s got tomorrow off, his house is as ready as it’s ever going to be. Want to help bring her over?”

The plan was quickly hatched. Jaskier would pick Roach up from Eskel’s the next afternoon. Lambert and Eskel would be at Geralt’s and keep him from getting stuck in on some chore so when Jaskier arrived with Roach, he wouldn’t be interrupted.

There was only one hiccough to their plan. The following morning, Geralt turned up at the shelter even though he wasn’t on the rota. He walked to the back and Jaskier saw the moment he realised Roach’s kennel was empty.

“What’s happened to her?” Geralt’s eyes were wide, face stoically set into something vaguely neutral to hide a breaking heart upon learning she had been adopted.

Jaskier felt awful, realising Geralt had been hoping to finally adopt her. Instead, Geralt gritted his teeth and nodded.

“Did she go to a good home?”

“The best,” Jaskier nodded. “Guy with a house and a garden. She loved him and even tolerated the guy’s maybe boyfriend.”

That was a bit of a cheeky thing to add but Jaskier couldn’t help himself. He had hopes. What he wasn’t braced for was the way Geralt nodded once and made his excuses to leave. On the way out, he dropped a roll of money into the fundraising jar on the reception desk. Jaskier didn’t need to count it to know it was exactly the same amount as an adoption fee. There was a defeated slope to Geralt’s shoulders and Jaskier was reaching for his phone, calling Eskel.

“We need to move up the timeline. He just came by to try and adopt Roach.”

A quick jiggling of lunch breaks and cover later, Jaskier was taking an early lunch and on his way to Eskel’s. He smiled at the dog, loving the big old bow Eskel had managed to attach to her collar.

“Come on girl,” Jaskier coaxed her into the car. “Time to go home.”

He pulled up outside Geralt’s driveway. Somehow, Eskel and Lambert had already managed to coax Geralt onto the porch and Jaskier got to see the annoyed scowl before recognition smoothed Geralt’s features into something confused.

“Sorry to bother,” Jaskier said as he opened up the boot of his car. “But I’ve got something of yours that needed delivering.”

Roach hopped out with a huff and looked around.

“Roach?” Geralt’s voice was full of hope. His dog heard and Jaskier had no chance of holding her leash as she bounded towards Geralt.

Lambert and Eskel took a step back as Roach collided with Geralt and they went sprawling on the ground. They both looked so happy, Jaskier wanted to take a photo and treasure it forever. Thankfully, it seemed that Lambert had the same idea as he’d already whipped his phone out to take pictures. Meanwhile, Eskel pulled out the adoption papers from him pocket.

Finally a little calmer, Geralt sat up and stared at the three of them. “I thought she got adopted.”

“She did. By a guy with a house and a garden. The best home she could hope for,” Jaskier replied.

“Didn’t the guy also have a maybe boyfriend?” Off to the side, Eskel snorted and made no attempt to even hide it. Jaskier had the grace to blush lightly even as he shrugged. “Could we make it a definite boyfriend?” Geralt asked softly.

It was Jaskier’s turn to grin but he didn’t step closer. “While I’m very happy, I think I would prefer not to tackle you to the floor and lick you all over to express it. The bed however,” he trailed off suggestively.

Lambert barked out a laugh and punched him in the shoulder merrily. “We’ll leave you three to figure out who is allowed on the bed and who wears a collar. See you around.”

“Stay,” Jaskier replied. “I need to get back to work. But, maybe, when I’m done, I could come by and see how Roach is settling into her new home?”

He looked at Geralt hopefully. “I could even bring some wine and doggy treats.”

“Deal.”

That was how Jaskier found himself with a date for that evening.

#geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #lambert #roach #eskel #tldr: geralt wants to adopt roach but gets beaten to it by his brothers and jaskier

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magicalforcesau · 3 years

Text

Dancing With Ghosts in Your Garden~ Chapter 21 - Year 2: May

(ao3 link)

Palpatine would never expect his morning to start with something as pathetic as tripping over a potted plant upon entering his office. He managed not to fall, and bit back a sneer as he kicked the damned thing over. Someone had been in here… He could tell even if it wasn’t explicitly obvious. Not a single thing seemed out of place, but as he studied his desk it seemed to have been moved. Now that he mentioned it, everything in the room had been moved ever so slightly to the left, just enough to cause suspicion and clearly just enough to cause him to stumble like a newborn deer.

“Maul,” He growled, waving his wand in search of any hidden surprises, but had the madman tried to set any curses, his alarms would surely have been set off. Yes, he’d known he was close and had his suspicions that he was in the building.

A few days ago, the leeches had been let out of the potion storage. The Slytherin students hadn’t been very thrilled when several of them were found in their beds. Palpatine had dealt with it, regardless of how he’d prefer his house learn to deal with such trivial matters themselves.

The Slytherins he went to school with were much braver than the cowards of today.

Such an event he could chalk up to an accident, or a student lurking where they shouldn’t be. Yet even still, he found it unlikely that the leeches found their way into the common room on their own.

Of course he was the only one with such suspicions. The braindead ministry dogs stationed outside of the school had nary a clue to where Maul was at any given time. Maul would have to do nothing short of waltzing up to them in handcuffs before they’d realize what was right in front of them. With the sloppy way Maul was presenting himself, it was even more damning.

Even more useless were the pitiful dementors that couldn’t seem to find him even if he’d announced himself front and center. Though truthfully, Palpatine had some theories on that.

Maul had gotten soft in his time away it seemed, reduced to petty pranks and trickery like the student he’d never fully been. His former apprentice had never been particularly focused, becoming the killing machine of his namesake easily and with little prompting. Now, after many years to stew in the place where most lost their minds if not their souls, he refused to move his sights off of Skywalker.

Palpatine waved his wand again, righting his office to its proper position. He would not fall prey to such a mundane task as moving furniture, not when he had much bigger fish to fry. He walked around his desk staring a hole through the daily prophet left sitting there, Maul’s wanted poster still front and center.

If his former apprentice wanted to waste his time riling him up, he could do as he so pleased. Palpatine had worked too hard and too long to bring his plans into fruition. When he finally got his hands on him, Maul would learn to regret even the slightest action against him.

***

“Did that exam feel…” Satine paused, still in shock as they put greater distance between themselves and the courtyard.

“Short?” Obi-Wan finished for her, clearly still reeling from the same level of unease over the whole matter. They’d all passed- even Hondo- but that hadn’t exactly been hard since despite all of the drills and practices they needed to run, the exam somehow only consisted of a simple apparition across the lawn and back. Such practices were normally not possible at Hogwarts, with the sole exception being when a class was being taught.

“Yeah,” She nodded, confusion still pouring off her in waves.

“Even I thought it was a little too easy,” Cody admitted, which felt like a true testament that Obi-Wan and Satine weren’t simply disappointed that they hadn’t been challenged, “Normally, you’d never hear me say that, but…”

“And this isn’t our typical Charms or History of Magic exam,” Obi-Wan said.

“This is something akin to a driver’s license.” Satine turned to both of them, “And I promise you that while not rocket science by any measure, the driver’s test at least tries to prove that you can do the basics.”

“Hondo fell on his bum when he landed and he still passed.” Obi-Wan added, concern knitting his brow. “Makes me a bit worried what sort of people they’re allowing to apparate.”

“That’s just it, my brothers told me about the apparition exam and they always said they made you run drills like they did in class.”

“I remember Qui-Gon saying something similar,” Satine bit her lip, “Do you think they did this because of everything going on?”

“I wouldn’t doubt it,” Obi-Wan said and they continued walking, “Think about it, we were all out in the open, with a murderer on the loose. I bet they wanted to get it over with and usher us inside as fast as they could.”

“Then delay the test,” Satine shrugged, “I don’t get what the rush was to approve all of us.”

“Maybe it’s a means of escape,” Cody said darkly. “I just hope it doesn’t result in any other consequences. I don’t know if either of you have ever been splinched, but-”

“-It’s not comfortable,” Obi-Wan filled in a bit too quickly for either of his friend’s satisfaction. Particularly Satine looked concerned at how immediate his reaction had been. She’d heard of it, of course, but as a muggle-born, it never happened to her. Most of the time, according to Windu, it was clothes or hair lost to splinching, but there were instances when flesh was wounded.

Obi-Wan cleared his throat before either could comment, “I suppose the bright side is, we passed.”

Neither were so sure how bright it was.

***

Ventress has truly anticipated expulsion or at the very least, suspension, and maybe this would have been the case under Headmaster Yoda’s rule, but whether she deemed it lucky or not, she was receiving no such punishment with Palpatine.

“I hope you understand where you belong, Ventress and see that I have afforded you mercy because of your family.” Palpatine said in that smooth, light voice. His eyes spoke of a different story. Something haunted him or perhaps he was the one who'd done the haunting. He was lauded as the kindly old potions’ professor, but she knew from experience that one didn’t climb so high up the social ladder without breaking backs on one’s way.

Dooku was that way and she’d been one of the backs he’d broken. She wasn’t even a high peg on a ladder to him, just a meager foot stool.

“Did you write them?” She asked, because it was always good to know when she’d be expecting a howler in the mail.

“Not yet,” He tsked, walking around his desk, “Though I suspect I won’t need to. Word travels fast enough.”

Yes, this cursed world did appreciate a show more than anything else. She had never expected hers to be deemed a pitiful tragedy- a failed villainous uprising. She’d hoped that when her story broke that she’d have the support and care of her sisters at either side. Instead, as always, Ventress was alone.

“What are you going to do with me, Headmaster?” She asked, looking up into his eyes. She didn’t feel remorse for her actions, per say, just that they were evidently in vain. Like any true Slytherin, she was willing to do whatever it took to achieve the means to an end.

Part of her wanted expulsion or to be thrown away without the key. Anything, at the moment, seemed better than going back home and groveling and pretending that she was an abused victim. She wanted, with everything in her heavy bones, for this to be her narrative rather than the reality that she was nothing more than a bookend to Dooku’s and his master’s. She loathed the concept of being used, of being the victim, even if she knew her survival would depend on playing that role.

Palpatine watched her with almost serene calmness, like he could sense the way her thoughts bled. Nobody knew Palpatine’s story, because he kept that close to the chest. Ventress wondered if they ever would, even after death.

Everyone had their secrets.

And Ventress missed hers.

“Well, I’m stripping you of all authority, for starters,” He said, walking around his desk to sit behind it again, “Seeing as you are still a minor, I’ve managed to convince the Ministry to not toss you into Azkaban. If and only if-”

If there was one thing Ventress hated more than pretending, it was negotiating, which was a large facet of the pureblood world. People negotiated the terms of courting rituals, business deals, even social events and how they would proceed. It was all one big set of terms and conditions.

Even if she quite possibly still stood solely for her pure hatred for Dooku, she still couldn’t help but agree with some of those ideals. Would she abandon them in an effort to sabotage him? Yes, without hesitance. It was but another means to an end. She’d abandoned so much of what she knew already. It was only icing on the cake.

“What?” She asked, keeping her hands cross in her lap to prevent herself from clawing at the desk between them.

“You must tell the aurors everything you know about Dooku,” He said sagely, but it was clearly rehearsed, quite possibly just before she came in, “And my dear, they will know if you’re lying.”

***

Despite the waning student population and the heightened anxieties surrounding Maul sightings in the area, they were still allowing the Quidditch match between Slytherin and Hufflepuff. It seemed like a desperate grasping for normalcy from the staff members still trying to keep up morale. It didn’t feel very normal, however, when all four houses fit neatly within the bounds of the Gryffindor section of the field. The professors didn’t want everyone spread out and those with friends in other houses welcomed the opportunity to chat outside of class. Satine had positioned herself between Obi-Wan and Cody, they were sitting closest to the exit. She felt almost like she was being watched and kept glancing behind her, but there was no one there. Paranoia certainly.

“I hope Hufflepuff beats Slytherin,” Cody grumbled as he crossed his arms over his chest, “It’s the only way to get Gryffindor back in the running.”

“I think that’s fairly unlikely,” Ben nodded towards the field, a soft glare on his face, “Ventress looks angry.”

“When doesn’t she,” Satine muttered, ignoring Ben as he turned his concerned eyes onto her.

She was willing to put the experience behind her. Though she doubted she’d ever forget what it felt like to be slowly turned to stone. The girl in question had lost her title as Quidditch captain, but had remained on the team. It seemed though, they hadn’t gotten around to choosing a new captain because Ventress still approached Breha to shake hands. So it was simply the matter of losing a title and not really a position. If in fact Headmaster Palpatine didn’t bother to enforce such things.

Then again, she always knew he favored purebloods.

“Shouldn’t even be allowed to play,” Cody crossed his arms, “She shouldn’t even be allowed to be here at all.”

“I’m surprised they didn’t haul her off to Azkaban.”

“Do you really think a child belongs on that foul island?” Because that’s what they were, children. Satine didn’t think that such a horrible punishment would be worth it for someone who likely only recently turned 17. For something so horrible to be done on her account as well? She couldn’t stand for it. She wanted Ventress to find peace and she certainly wouldn’t be able to move past being a pawn for Dooku behind bars.

“It’s starting!” Cody grinned and leaned forward. At least this time since they were stuck in the back she wouldn’t have to worry about keeping him from falling over the ledge.

***

“Hey, Professor! You coming to see the match?” Anakin asked.

Kit Fisto flashed them a bright smile, which came easily for him even with the rumors that it would be cancelled due to Maul’s lingering presence. Anakin found that he was having a more difficult time offering legitimate smiles these days. Never did he ever consider that Maul was capable of drawing so close to the school.

“Just making sure there aren’t any stragglers, Anakin.” He said, “We’ve all got to stick together, after all.”

“Yeah, okay, but make sure you come watch! Gryffindor might not win the cup this year, but it would be pretty cool to see Ventress get beat by Hufflepuff.

“There’s got to be some punishment for what she did to us,” Rex growled with a clenched fist.

“And what’s better than getting demolished by the worst team in Quidditch?” Anakin said cheerily, although Rex didn’t seem so sure that was appropriate. Neither did the few Hufflepuffs that shot him dirty looks as they passed.

In spite of this, Kit Fisto laughed, his long green tentacles wiggling as he did, “Yes, well, I’m sure Headmaster Palpatine won’t let her off completely scot free.”

“I think he just let her play because she’s a good player,” Anakin grumbled.

“Now, now, there’s a lot more that goes on behind the scenes than either you or I are privy to,” Fisto said placatingly, “We’re all doing what we can to keep you guys safe.”

“I know.” Both Anakin and Rex said in unison.

“Even if I do feel like this might be testing fate a bit,” He gestured to the large crowd of people, “I suppose it is nice to see everyone so happy for a change.”

It was, but even Anakin, who had made some bold and sometimes foolish decisions in the name of fun, thought it was a little soon. He’d heard rumors that Palpatine was being pushed by the Ministry to hold the Quidditch matches anyway. Apparently, there was a decent gambling pool that relied on which team would come out on top.

“It would make me happier if Slytherin loses.” Rex said.

He leaned down to their level and winked, “Between you and me? Same.”

“We’ll see you in there?” Anakin laughed.

“I’m right behind you,” Fisto nodded.

***

Breha was never one to underestimate her opponents. Slytherin team may have been without a captain, but she still knew they would be looking to Ventress for plays. They’d been working with her all year after all. It was, however, still something they could take advantage of. A few of the Slytherin players would certainly be willing to try and usurp the queen in order to gain the position next year and that would make their play style much more chaotic than it would otherwise be.

That was excellent for a team like Hufflepuff, who thrived in their teamwork. None of them had the same level of ambition as many of the Slytherin’s she knew. Ambition wasn’t always a bad thing, Breha would be hard pressed to say she didn’t possess some level of it herself, but in a situation like this, she knew her team would flow like a stream whereas their opposition would butt heads like a rockslide.

She knocked away the Quaffle from the golden hoops as she kept a careful eye on the bludgers that were being knocked her way. Her chasers were quick to grab it out from the competitive hands of two Slytherin chasers. Hufflepuff was steadily racking up points and although they were nowhere near to beating them without the snitch, it certainly was quite an embarrassment for the house of green and silver. Normally Hufflepuff would be hard pressed to get the ball through a ring at all.

“Get it together, you useless swine,” Ventress hollered at her team as she skirted dangerously close to their heads. If she likely wasn’t in the mood to get into more trouble, Breha wondered if she might hit them with her bat.

“Good job!” Breha cheered with a smile as her own team scored a point. The cheers erupting from the audience were quieter than they usually were, but loud enough to hear over the wind. Breha frowned, taking her eyes off the game for only a moment to search her surroundings. She almost thought she’d heard a scream.

She turned, around and narrowly managed to catch the Quaffle with her hands rather than her face before tossing it down field. The audience cheered again, but something didn’t feel right. Breha’s hands twitched on the handle of her broom. She could call a timeout, but she would hate to waste something over a feeling.

She glanced around again. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

She raised her hands to make the call when a loud whistle jolted the game to a halt. Breha dodged a bludger as they both went sailing for their holding crate. Professor Tiin was holding up his hands in a desperate T. She descended quickly on her broom and the rest of the students in the sky followed.

“What’s going on?”

***

“They’ve stopped,” Satine was surprised. She’d watched a lot of Quidditch despite her distaste for it and she certainly hadn’t seen anything like this happen before, “A time out?”

“Somethings up,” Cody was the one to respond. He was watching the field with interest, but there was a layer of worry that he normally didn’t have when watching even the most dangerous of crashes, “Ref called for their grounding; there wasn’t anything wrong with the game.”

“No penalties,” Ben nodded. He too looked concerned, eyes flicking around the stadium. Satine found herself looking behind her again. She no longer felt eyes on her, but she certainly felt like the hairs on the back of her neck were beginning to raise. Before either of them could comment further though, Headmaster Palpatine’s voice, amplified, filled the stadium. His tone was less than pleased.

“Students and Faculty,” He started solemnly, “We must immediately return to the castle.”

Chatter filled the stands at once, not just the children either, but Satine caught Professor Plo turning to whisper to Professor Windu. Neither of them looked like they knew anything.

“What about the game?” A fourth year Gryffindor yelled, “It’s against the rules to stop!”

“What’s going on?” A Ravenclaw third year added from a few seats in front of her. Satine felt like her limbs were full of lead as she reached out to clutch the sleeve of Ben’s robe. She had a bad feeling.

“The game is not important,” There was a soft sigh that was barely audible past a few outcries from the student body, “It brings me a terrible sadness to inform you of the passing of Professor Kit Fisto-”

Cries of outrage and of sadness expelled themselves from the student body. The Professors, while schooled better on their emotions, looked just as surprised as they stood, immediately gathering students and shuffling them towards the exits. On the field, Professor Tiin was doing the same with the Quidditch teams.

“It has to be Maul,” Ben hissed at them, “He’s getting bolder.”

Neither she nor Cody could make much of a response though, being swept amongst other panicked students out of the stands and onto the sprawling grounds. Satine only realized she still had a grip on Ben’s sleeve when he tripped and fell, and she narrowly avoided the same fate by letting go.

“Ben-” She started reaching out a hand for him when she noticed he’d tripped over a first year who looked rather shell shocked, wide horrified eyes filling up with tears. He must have fallen first and narrowly avoided being trampled on.

“Oh, hey there, it’s alright,” Ben had noticed too, taking the time to help the boy up off the ground, despite the shouts of professors for them to get back in line, “Come on, we just have to get into the castle, alright? We’ll be safe there.” Satine felt like she was intruding, but refused to leave them there alone. Luckily, the boy took Ben’s hand quickly and the three of them shuffled back into the crowd quickly.

As soon as the last student was through the doors to the castle they slammed shut, latching forcefully behind them. The doors to the Great Hall did similarly.

“Bloody hell, I thought you two had disappeared,” Cody ran up to them, looking relieved. His own brothers fell at ease the second he turned away from them, clearly he’d rounded them up first thing.

“Is Anakin-?” Ben whipped his head around to look and Cody pointed towards where Anakin and Rex were looking pale and shaken, but alive.

All were accounted for it seemed, all but Professor Kit Fisto, who had died at the hands of a mad man while guarding the far side of the pitch, alone.

***

A funeral for Kit Fisto had been held off grounds- somewhere in the middle of the ocean for all of his aquatic friends and family members to properly mourn him in accordance with their traditions. His ashes were sprinkled over the Mariana Trench, where he’d done some of his biggest work.

His absence left the school caught in a limbo of uncertainty. Professors were in a mode of practicality only and it was hardly blameable. Maul had not only gotten within their barrier, but had committed a gruesome act of violence that some students had the horrors of bearing witness to the aftermath of.

Kit Fisto had been treated not like a person, but a sign to be waved on a stick, to show just what Maul intended to do to each of them if they didn’t give him Anakin Skywalker. Classes were taught within the confines of the common rooms to keep students from traveling elsewhere. With the blocked off tunnels, it seemed like the only safe space to keep Maul out.

No longer were even prefects allowed to walk the halls. Patrols were cancelled, and professors and aurors walked every space and brought food to students as well as taught their classes. It was a mess, really, and students were definitely affected by the change. Less and less faces were present, many removed from the castle altogether at the insistence of their parents.

However, those who remained were downcast and gray just like the sky outside their windows. A greedy part of Obi-Wan was thankful that his friends were still here, even if the current circumstances didn’t allow him to see Cody or Anakin. He was surprised Satine’s mother didn’t bring her home, though he had his suspicions of the extent at which she knew. It was hard to tell with the muggle families. They didn’t get the same news as wizards did, but it seemed awfully callous for there to be no warning from the school.

Then again, professors were quite busy working alongside the aurors to track Maul down. Part of him wondered where he could possibly be hiding, but really, there were endless corridors at Hogwarts that he’d never known of- not until the existence of the map, anyway. Even then, the fabled Room of Requirement was still out there untouched. Pure intentions were supposed to unlock it and he had severe doubts that Maul’s qualified.

This castle that they’d once been free to roam had shrunk significantly for all of them. He couldn’t even imagine being in Slytherin house and segmented only to the lightless space near the dungeons.

The news of Kit Fisto’s tragic demise took a while to reach outside outlets, for it wasn’t until an entire week later, shortly after his reported funeral, that they’d received a very dramatic and incoherent Floo call from Aayla. Even in the charcoal embers taking form into her face, he could tell she was blubbering like a baby.

“HOW COULD THIS HAPPEN?” She wailed and the other students in the common room, who were a bit piled on top of one another, turned their bodies to try and allow privacy to the fireplace. It wasn’t like Aayla seemed to mind much.

“Er, I know this must be difficult for you,” Obi-Wan tried awkwardly as he searched his eyes through the room. Where was Satine when he needed her? There weren’t too many places to go, after all.

“DIFFICULT? TRY IRREVOCABLY HEARTBROKEN TO THE LARGEST DEGREE? HE WAS SO YOUNG SO KIND SO BEAUTIFUL.” She shook with tears, “Too good for this world, honestly. I don’t… I don’t know how I’ll go on.”

Obi-Wan didn’t think himself a callous person, but he sure as hell didn’t know how to navigate this conversation without further setting her off, “He will be dearly missed as he was a favorite teacher for most.”

“He’s more than that!” She bellowed, but it wasn’t intimidating due to the hiccups she’d recently caught, “He was the kindest soul placed on this earth like an orb of light- and I but a moth drawn to him…”

“Yes, of course!” Obi-Wan panicked, “I didn’t mean to reduce your care for him, I only meant-”

“Aayla?” Satine was suddenly knelt beside him, looking over his shoulder and into the fire.

“Yes, Satine, Aayla heard the unfortunate news regarding Professor Fisto-”

“DON’T SAY HIS NAME IT’S TOO SOON!” She sobbed.

Satine flashed him a scathing look and he shrugged helplessly. Aayla did have a point about there being many extremely crestfallen students over the professor’s death. Beyond simply grieving a good professor and person too. Many of the remaining members of Fisto’s fan club were inconsolably upset, like they’d just lost the love of their young lives. It seemed he’d made a big impression in his short time as a professor, even if not necessarily the way he’d intended to.

Even on that scale, he’d be missed. Although reserved by bureaucratic restrictions, Fisto tried to teach them to fight, to protect themselves. In many ways, Obi-Wan preferred him as a professor to Dooku (even removing the sinister Sith stuff), because of how approachable and charismatic he’d been. Obi-Wan was in a bit of disbelief even still that he was gone.

“Did you see him?” She sniffled.

Satine tensed, but shook her head, “No, and I don’t envy those who did.”

“No, I suppose not.” Aayla said, “You know what my last words were to him?”

“What’s that?” Obi-Wan asked.

She breathed deeply to stabilize herself, “That I’d perfect resistance to the Imperius curse while at home. What kind of goodbye is that?”

“Well, you couldn’t have possibly known, Aayla.” Satine said soothingly and Obi-Wan wondered how she maintained the careful line of logic and empathetic. It would be beautiful to bear witness to under different circumstances that weren’t this depressing.

“Maybe not, but I haven’t even been able to do him justice by practicing my resistance!”

“Everyone’s having a hard time studying in this climate,” Satine said and looked around, “We’re all on top of one another in here.”

“Plus, rumor has it, someone’s fixed up a shrine for Professor Fisto in the girl’s bathroom,” Obi-Wan said.

“I should be there to pay tribute,” She said. “If it weren’t for my parents, I would be.”

“It’s better that you’re not,” Satine assured, “You can properly mourn him when you come back, when everything is safe again.”

If it was safe again. She hadn’t said it that way, but he could tell by her demeanor that she was thinking of it. It had only been a week since they were confined to their common room, but it was starting to feel very much like they were trapped. His only means of asking how Anakin was aside from the fireplace was through Qui-Gon and his daily visits.

“I’LL NEVER LOVE AGAIN!” She cried.

“Erm,” he bit his lip, “There there, he wouldn’t want you to be-”

“-He would never know what I want, because I, like many others, kept my feelings locked within my heart instead of on display. It’s the stupid logical side of me.”

“Well, he was your professor.” This was not the correct thing to say. “You couldn’t possibly pursue a relationship-”

“-Ben, why don’t you referee the first and second year’s game of gobstones, since you like it so,” The edge to her voice queued him into realizing that thankfully, it was not a suggestion.

“You still play that?” Aayla wrinkled her nose, briefly distracted from her woe, “That’s for children!”

“It’s a very tactical game, thank you!” Obi-Wan huffed.

“Kit liked darts.” Aayla remembered that she was supposed to be heartbroken.

Obi-Wan took his opportunity to exit before it was lost on him, feeling a bit guilty for leaving Satine with that mess to clean. As it were, sticking around was only making it worse. He just hoped that the other houses were faring better than they were locked up.

***

If it weren’t for the blanket of loss that stained everything, Anakin probably would have called their mandatory lockdown some sort of break from school. The concept of a “staycation” was lost on Rex and his brothers, but it was even less pleasant given the circumstances. The first day hadn’t been bad, since they all basically hung out and tried to distract themselves with snacks and jokes. Seven days in, however, it was getting tedious and it was even worse by the professors attempting to teach the entire common room at once, which meant that half of it was far too confusing and ahead of the game for even Anakin to grasp.

Plus, he didn’t have Obi-Wan to edit his stuff, which made a big difference. Qui-Gon did offer to deliver any parcels or letters back and forth, but that felt silly when he could always theoretically use the fireplace. Acknowledging that they might be in here for a while was starting to get to him.

“I’d give anything for a game of Quidditch,” Cody sighed as he flipped through a magazine on the very subject, wistfully running a hand on the glossy pictures that depicted summer fun in the most recent digest.

“Quidditch? I’d give anything to do a lap running around the castle,” Rex added with a stretch of his leg, “I’m going stir crazy.”

“Need I remind you all that you lot rejected our suggestion for indoor Aingingein.” Fives piped up from his spot on the floor beside his twin.

“Yeah, and I’ll never be desperate enough to try that inside!” Cody said, “We haven’t even got any barrels to light on fire anyway.”

“We could improvise!” Echo complained. “It doesn’t have to be on fire.”

“With you lot, it’s always on fire.” He said pointedly, “Even if it’s not supposed to be.”

“I have always excelled with pyrotechnic spells,” Echo said smugly, “Definitely a strong suit of mine.”

“Of ours, thank you,” Fives corrected.

“Never thought I’d hear the day where you’re the voice of reason,” Anakin said to Cody, who turned his head lazily with a crooked smile.

“Process of elimination, kid.” He said, though Anakin viewed Cody as more responsible than he gave himself credit for.

He felt guilty for allowing himself to feel monotony. Someone had died, after all, and the only reason they were all stuck here was because Maul wanted to eliminate the Chosen One- a title he couldn’t believe he’d once been proud of. They were all lucky to be safe within their common room and that Maul hadn’t incited anymore violence the day he got Fisto. Even that small consolation felt immediately hollow as Anakin thought of it.

It didn’t stop the darkest crevices of his mind from generating possibilities of Maul picking off each standing professor and auror, leaving them trapped and with no real way of knowing what was happening. It was horrifying. Judging by The Daily Prophet, reports weren’t being as authentic as they could be about the sheer amount of danger they were in.

“What’s the first thing you’re doing when we get out of here?” Rex asked him.

“Oh,” Anakin hadn’t really thought of it, “Probably never complain about having to wake up early for class ever again.”

“I hear that.” Fives said, “Getting up and moving to a different room sounds like a dream. Anything has to be better than sitting here wasting time.”

Anakin glanced over towards the other end of the room, where Padmé was perched near the window, allowing the natural light of the sun to provide an angelic glow on her face as she read the book in her lap. Even though they didn’t have to, she still dressed in Gryffindor robes and had her hair pulled back in two buns that were fanned out at the base of her neck and shimmering with a silver glitter.

In the pocket of his robes was the necklace he’d decorated for her. There were so many moments where he wanted to give it to her, to tell her that he painted it with his hands and that he knew life was short and that meant seizing it while you had it, not isolating him.

He considered standing and approaching her, sitting opposite and inquiring about what she was reading, telling her she looked lovely, and making this anything but wasted time for him.

The thought washed away faster than it appeared and an announcement chimed through the entire room, silencing everyone from the idle chatter that kept them sane thus far.

Anakin didn’t need to hear it before to know who it belonged to.

“Professors and students of Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry,” Maul addressed them all like a king addressing his loyal subjects, “Despite how the Daily Prophet might paint me, I am capable of being reasonable. You see I am not as young as I used to be, so I see no issue in leaving the castle and its occupants unscathed. There is but one thing that I desire.”

Anakin’s heart was pounding in his chest and he felt Rex’s hand on his shoulder immediately. It should have been stabilizing and comforting, but all it really did was serve as a reminder as to why Maul was even here.

“Give me your precious Chosen One, and I will see to it that there is no more bloodshed,” Maul continued, “For it was not long ago that I was in your midst and though I was treated like a feral animal not worthy of teaching, I do have some sentimental nostalgia to this place. After all, every hero requires an origin story.”

“We do not bargain with murderers, Maul.” This time, Anakin truly did know the voice to be Mace Windu’s firm tone.

“A pity, Professor Windu, a pity indeed,” Maul remained completely calm and neutral, which Anakin hadn’t expected. They all watched the ceiling as though they waited with bated breath for him to sink through it. “Because until you submit to my conditions, I will cut through every single person in this school until I get what I want.”

“You will not succeed, Maul.” Palpatine, this time, echoed through the room, even if not physically present.

A long pause, and then, “I’ll be the judge of that, Headmaster.”

And then, a laugh so sinister and cold that Anakin swore his blood was frozen solid. Everyone was watching him as the voices faded and they were only left to the crackling of the fire. He stared straight ahead, burning with an anger and fear so bright that he felt he might physically glow.

“We aren’t going to let him get you, mate.” Rex insisted severely, “You hear me?”

He didn’t doubt that they would do everything in their power to save him, but Anakin already had the guilt of his mother’s disappearance weighing on his conscience. He wasn’t sure he could bear another.

At the thought of his mother, he practically saw stars. This monster had been the reason his family, his home, his protector was gone. He took her and did who knows what with her. And while he knew from deep within him, from the small little voice that told him so in his most horrible dreams, he wasn’t ready for such a threat.

But he also wasn’t ready to lose his mother and he certainly wasn’t ready to allow his friends to take any heroic falls for him. Maul was here for a reason and perhaps, that’s what he needed, to have it handed straight over to him.

“Anakin.” Rex said again and shook his shoulder, “I don’t like that look you’ve got on your face.”

He stared at his friend, memorizing the kindness on his face. He didn’t deserve him. “I’m sorry, Rex.”

“It’s not your fault!” He insisted, scoffing at the idea of it. “He’s a lunatic! He’s gone and murdered a professor because of a stupid poem that was written centuries ago! So what if you’re the Chosen One according to that! Isn’t Qui-Gon always saying the future is always changing?”

He was, but right now was the present, which Anakin could only control his own actions in.

“I am sorry for that… And for this,” He nodded, but then blasted his friend backwards with a swift stupefy spell, and raced out of the room before anyone could grab him. One of the Fett’s nearly succeeded and ripped a piece of his robe, but the door slammed behind him before he could be fully pulled back.

He was going to face Maul.

***

Satine, like every other student in the school, was horrified at the conversation they’d all heard booming in their ears. It felt like an immense invasion of privacy and had intended to have that effect, considering the initial source. They were lucky enough to have Qui-Gon present when it occurred for class, but any comfort that his presence might have offered was swept away when he immediately made for the exit with his wand ready.

“Qui-Gon,” Obi-Wan was paler than she’d ever seen him and watching his mentor with a fear they never should have known, “Don’t.”

“I will do what I must, Obi-Wan,” He nodded, “As will you, I’m sure.”

There was a passing secret language between them of which Satine did not understand and was not intended to. Whatever it meant, it caused Obi-Wan to look ready to snap in two right before her eyes.

He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it, not knowing what to say at all under such circumstances. They were under siege by one man, who couldn’t be stopped by aurors or Dementors or even their notable DADA professor. She felt her heart plunge into the pit of her stomach as the severity of this dawned on all of them. For a moment, it felt like there was no one else in the room but the three of them.

“Yes, Professor.” He said instead of what he’d meant to and just like that, Qui-Gon Jinn was gone and the door behind him locked.

Obi-Wan stared at where he’d left for a long moment, fists balled and whether it was the angle of the sun or otherwise, his eyes looked glassy. His lip didn’t tremble and his breathing didn’t change. Instead, he looked rigid beyond repair.

“I’m sure he’s just going to Gryffindor’s common room to check on Anakin.” Satine said as she cautiously approached him to rest a hand on his shoulder blade. He didn’t flinch or jump at her touch, but it did feel like he had transported off to another plane of existence.

“That’s exactly what he’s doing.” He said heavily and finally turned to meet her eyes, “Maul went to this school. Surely, he knows it well enough to know where the Gryffindors sleep.”

That had also occurred to her, but right now, standing in front of him, where they were both so desperately trying to grasp onto some semblance of hope, she didn’t want to voice it. She feared their time for seeking solace was well passed.

“Maul doesn’t know the codes to get in.” She said firmly, “He won’t be able to get in and get Anakin. The Fat Lady wouldn’t allow for it.

He did nod at that, “Yes, it was a security measure from-”

“-The war, I presume.” She raised an eyebrow, “As everything is?”

“Actually from the amount of teen pregnancies occurring from inter-house relations.” He said frankly and it nearly made her laugh if it didn’t sound like such a believably ludicrous solution only thought of by wizards.

Any light quip she was thinking of making disappeared into nothing as the fireplace burst into a hasty shout of, “Kenobi? Are you there? Satine? Anyone?”

They rushed to the fire again, recognizing their best friend’s voice in mind-numbing alarm. Any younger students dove out of the way immediately on instinct to avoid being knocked into the flames.

“Cody, I-” Obi-Wan hadn’t even gotten a word in edgewise before he was promptly cut off by Cody’s furious shout, which was no doubt trying to compete with the noisy background surrounding him.

“ANAKIN’S ESCAPED!”

“What?” It was Obi-Wan who interrupted this time. “What do you mean he escaped?”

“He’s going for Maul!” Rex cried, shoving his brother out of the way, “I tried to stop him, but-”

Anything else Rex said faded to the background, though she suspected it was mostly nonsense judging by how upset he clearly was.

No, that couldn’t be. Her heart was thundering in her ears at the implication. Anakin was giving himself up for slaughter, but she knew in her heart that despite his claims, Maul would not stop there. Violence only begets more violence, especially when from the hand of a bloodthirsty animal.

“Stay put,” Obi-Wan’s voice was almost unrecognizable. It was deeper, commanding, and completely unlike the gentle witticism she’d grown used to (and fond of) over the years. Had she not watched him speak, she might not have believed it at all.

“Kenobi, don’t you even think-” Cody shoved back in.

Obi-Wan didn’t allow him to finish the sentiment, ending the connection and shoving himself off the ground with nearly as much speed as he’d gotten to it, aggressively shoving through a surrounding crowd, knocking Fenn Rau onto his arse when he tried to block him from the exit with tremendous ease. Satine followed through the space he’d left in his wake, desperately trying to reach him with a pounding dread that washed her into a blinding panic.

She caught his hand just before he could leave, in a vice grip that under different circumstances she would not use, but it drew his attention back to her, his eyes blazing with purpose and certainty.

“Let go of me.” He said with strange calm.

“No.” She said, “I won’t let you do this.”

“That’s not up to you!”

“Like hell it isn’t!” She argued, “I won’t have you knocking on death’s door yet again out of some infuriating sense of nobility.”

“Satine,” His eyes softened as he focused on her and looked a little more like the boy who effortlessly stole her breath away, “It’s Anakin.”

She knew that. Her stomach curled and coiled at the vile revelation and what it meant for Obi-Wan, who despite not being the main character of this prophetic narrative, was a true hero despite his own self-doubts. And really, she wouldn’t care for him the way she did if he weren’t the type to run into the fire against his better logic for a boy who had always been chosen to him- prophecy be damned.

There was no one else in the room as she contemplated just how dire this moment was and how pitiful it was.

“Please be careful.” She found herself saying in a voice only he could hear.

“I always try to be.” It wasn’t a promise and she noticed that. He would never make a promise he couldn’t keep. Not to her.

They stared at each other for what felt like an eternity and her mind raced with a flush of memories and regrets- that in this moment the cold reality was drenching them with how little time they likely had left. It seemed he was processing a similar line of thinking, because his eyes scanned her face as though memorizing every detail. Thousands of unsaid words passed between them, though even then she yearned to hear the real thing.

It was now or never, it seemed.

“At Christmas, I-” His breath hitched, “I- Well, I’ve never…”

He seemed quite infuriated with himself. A crash in the distance caused them both to break their spell and Obi-Wan turned back to her, regret swimming in his eyes as well as a fondness that could no longer be debated.

They didn’t have time.

“I’m sorry,” He raised her hand to his lips, pressing a single firm kiss to her knuckles, “Another time, I hope.”

And she watched him go, memorizing with painstaking clarity the feeling of his hand slipping from hers and out of reach as his perfect silhouette danced down the stairs hurriedly, never looking back. Perhaps, because doing so would make him run back to her. That’s what she told herself again.

Her hand burned as she clutched it tightly. She had a duty to uphold too.

***

Anakin ran, assuming logically that the grand staircases would be where Maul awaited. He seemed to be somewhat interested in being dramatic and Anakin could think of no better place to stage an assault. He’d expected to hear someone following behind him, a professor trying to catch him before he did something so stupid or a friend come to his aid, but neither seemed as crazy as he was to face a threat so great.

The closer to the staircase he grew, the more aurors were laid about, Anakin felt his steps falter as he purposely turned his eyes away. They were fine, they had to be, they were just… taking a nap.

Although even his own heart didn’t take the gentle suggestion at face value.

He saw green light reflecting off the wall up ahead. It gave off an eerie strobe effect that made Anakin hesitate. His wand was still gripped in his hand and he did know a fair few spells he was quite good at, but what did he know about going against someone so powerful? Countless aurors were lying about, clearly not able to take him themselves and it certainly didn’t seem like Maul was in the mood to play with his victims.

The thoughts of his own home kept his feet moving forward. His mother’s bedroom, covered with feathers and his mother, missing, possibly worse and it had to be at the hands of Maul. Who else would be trying to draw him out, but the man who was very clear at wanting him dead this entire year? He repeated over and over and over again the stunning spell in his head as he stepped out into the open area of the staircases.

An auror had just caught the end of a green beam and was falling down. Maul looked almost bored as he watched and didn’t flinch as Anakin did as they hit the ground with a thud. Maul had put forth no effort in his spree, but the thought didn’t deter Anakin from hurtling his own spell while he had the element of surprise.

“Stupify,” He tried to be quiet about it, but his spell still missed the man by a few centimeters. Maul had noticed him much sooner, by the way he just stood there, watching him like a predator would its prey.

“So you have the dignity to fight your own battles,” He flicked his wand and Anakin dodged, jumping onto a staircase as it pivoted past him. Maul stepped casually onto his own and they both spun around each other before their stairs clicked into place. Anakin held his ground, aiming to stay as far away as he could from the man. There were things he wanted answered and he surely didn’t come here to lay down and die.

“I want to know what you did to my mum!” Anakin yelled before sending out another stunning spell and missing narrowly. Maul was still unperturbed by this and stepped onto another staircase.

“What would I care about your mother?” Maul asked with a sneer.

Anakin’s heart leapt, he must be lying, “Y-you took her! I know you did!” He shouted, his wand still clutched tightly in his hand. He sent off a quick chain-cast, aiming to disarm Maul, at least then there wasn’t much damage he could do. Maul reflected it like it was a particularly pesky fly and Anakin’s spell slammed into the wall, showering debris all around them.

“I didn’t take your mother, boy,” Maul sent a spell knocking Anakin’s wand out of his hand and causing it to tumble down the steps. He shrunk back as Maul took each step down to him incredibly slowly, “But once you’ve been erased from this earth,” He grinned, sharp teeth grinding together in a hideous display, “I’ll send her to find you.”

Maul’s wand was moving and in a last-ditch attempt at living, Anakin rushed forward, jumping at Maul and trying to rip his wand out of his hand. Maul growled, a low dangerous sound before shoving Anakin off. Anakin stumbled, but managed not to fall just in time for Maul’s foot to come crashing into his chest, sending him tumbling down the stairs.

He landed hard enough to knock the wind out of his lungs, but in the dust kicked up he managed to locate his wand before Maul could aim again and he sent out another desperate spell.

His heart sank as Maul simply stepped aside to dodge such a thing. This wasn’t how he wanted his life to end. He’d thought he’d be avenging his mother, locating her, being a hero. He was the Chosen One, he thought he could live through anything.

Maul raised his wand.

Anakin thought of his friends who he’d come to love like family. He thought of magic and all he had yet to learn. He thought of his mother, out there somewhere waiting for him.

***

There were bodies upon bodies lining the walls, all aurors, and all dead by Maul, presumably. Obi-Wan didn’t look as he went, not needing the horrifying distraction at the moment. These men and women gave themselves over to protect them and were treated like dominos to be knocked over in a chain reaction, all leading to-

-He came to an abrupt halt from his sprint, brain whirring as it tried to catch up to what his eyes saw to the left on the grand staircase. It was a body, and not just any body, but Anakin, small and limp at the bottom, completely unmoving. And just three flights up, completely shrouded in black save for his fiery face, was Maul.

“Stay away from him!” Obi-Wan shouted, drawing his attention immediately. Time only continued when he noticed Anakin’s chest moving up and down where he lay. All hope was not lost yet.

That was not to say that they were anywhere near out of the woods. The dementors had entered the space, but even this offered Obi-Wan no false hope. In fact, by the way they hovered beside him with a slight green glow surrounding their usual complete blackness, it was like they obeyed Maul somehow, serving the very opposite purpose than what was programmed of them.

Maul’s wand was sleek and smooth and undoubtedly did not belong to him originally. Obi-Wan knew enough about the clearances distributed by the Ministry that it belonged to an officer of some kind. He didn’t want to picture what happened to its original owner. Obi-Wan always struggled with conjuring patronuses, but if there was ever a time to learn, there was nothing like the present. He had to force his hand not to shake as he outstretched it, hoping he didn’t look as young as he felt.

He tried to channel happiness and positivity in a moment like this, in order to create the bright light needed to banish these dementors away, but every time a spark felt as though it might kindle, the gravity of their situation snuffed it out.

Maul said nothing, just as he hadn’t in Hogsmeade, but he did bear a full mouthful of yellow-stained teeth that matched the glowing eyes that appeared hollowed out in his skull. There was only hate and suffering behind those eyes, never a day of love or care. If Anakin’s life weren’t on the line, Obi-Wan might have felt sorry for him.

He knew the moment he made a move for the boy, Maul would only charge, but they couldn’t remain in this uneven standoff forever. Literally, they could not, because the stairs would not hold still for anyone, not even for the theatrics of a bloody lunatic. So, while it felt like a longshot, it also seemed like his only shot.

Obi-Wan took the leap, dashing to the end of the stairs, tumbling and grabbing Anakin on the way, just as the stairs moved and swiftly knocked them at an alarming velocity towards another shifting staircase. As predicted, when he moved, Maul moved, but not fast enough and stumbled as the stairs shifted, toppling over a railing in the process.

“Obi-Wan?” Anakin sat up and rubbed his head.

He quickly inspected the boy, satisfied that there was no blood, but there would definitely be a large bump on his head from whatever fall he’d taken. They didn’t have time to dilly dally. They had to go. He grabbed Anakin by the hand and pulled him the rest of the way down the stairs to the ground level, flickering his eyes up to notice the dementors closing in on them like nightfall.

For a brief moment, as the dementor positioned itself ready, Obi-Wan saw the future of Hogwarts as it was to be should Maul truly claim the school. He saw destruction, fire, betrayal, hate. He saw so much hate in the form of enraged yellow eyes. He couldn’t seem to feel his hands or his feet as the tunnel of darkness closed in on him. There was no life, there was no hope, there was no purpose.

All he wanted was for it to be over… Just put him out of his misery.

Why hadn’t Maul claimed them yet?

He saw his friends suffering at his failure. He saw the school itself burning to the ground. Cody was on the ground of the castle, a fiery hole in his chest that hadn’t cooled, unmoving and unblinking. Satine was surely next as she sobbed alongside him. Everything was painted in gray.

In the reflection of the green aura that tainted the dementors’ ragged cloaks, he met Anakin’s equally disillusioned gaze. That spark that refused to ignite earlier dragged like flint on steel and rubbed rapidly, starting to warm him up and remind him not of the bright spots of life, but of what he’d come here to do.

Positioning himself in front of Anakin, Obi-Wan yelled, “Expecto Patronum!”

Only an azure burst of light did not come from the tip of his wand, but somewhere above the dementors, taking the form of a beautiful blue and florid owl before circling and encompassing the dark phantoms with a blinding light. In the process, it knocked Maul backwards up a staircase and bolting forwards towards the person responsible.

He knew that patronus.

“Qui-Gon!” Anakin pointed up even further, where Obi-Wan’s mentor had thoroughly derailed Maul’s plans of following them by engaging in a violent trade of green and red bouts of magic back and forth, dancing along the stairs rhythmically, away from them, as though they were partners in an arranged production. Glass windows shattered and more dementors joined the game, never once standing a chance for Qui-Gon Jinn, though Maul proved himself quite the martial artist.

“We’ve got to help him!” Anakin began to move, which stalled Obi-Wan from his shocked reverie and he grabbed the boy by the collar of his shirt and yanked him back.

“No, you’ve got to get to safety!” Obi-Wan said and held him close to his face, “You are in no shape to be fighting a Sith lord.”

“Neither is he!” Anakin pointed out the obvious, which was that Maul’s aggressively acrobatic fighting style was only going to wear Qui-Gon out should they continue to edge towards a dead end. Qui-Gon would have very little room to maneuver and parry should they corner themselves in a tower or a narrow walkway. “And neither are you.”

“I have to help him.” Obi-Wan said, “It’s the only way.”

He couldn’t explain it too, because it just felt like he needed to push forward. The logical thing to do would be to run back to Ravenclaw tower with Anakin in tow and reunite with his friends in safety, but he was drawn to the fight and not for any sense of bloodlust, but refined purpose.

“I won’t let you!” Anakin cried, “It’s my fault!”

“Like hell it is!” Obi-Wan chastised and shoved him forward, “You are in control of your own actions, not Maul’s. The only action you should be doing is getting the hell out of here.”

“But-”

“No but’s, Anakin! If you never listen to me again, listen to me now: run. Hide. Get help, whatever, but you stay as far away as your little legs can carry you, alright? You are the future of tomorrow. This is only today.”

It wasn’t what he promised Qui-Gon, but if Anakin was away from Maul, he was safe, so if Obi-Wan could help delay that, he would.

“Where?”

“Exactly where you need to be,” He said.

“I can never get those stupid riddles!”

“Trust me, you will.” Obi-Wan said. “Just run.”

“And what about you?”

“I’m right behind you,” Though as they stared at each other, they both knew it was a lie. With tears staining his cheeks, Anakin nodded and ran in the opposite direction. Obi-Wan watched him until he was far enough away before turning and racing back up the steps again. Just as he did, they began moving, knocking Obi-Wan around rather roughly and almost backwards again, but he kept running and even dove forward to catch the next staircase by the hand.

For a moment, he was suspended above by only one hand, forcing himself to use all the strength in his body to lift himself and keep climbing.

Qui-Gon and Maul kept moving, the sound of glass shattering in their wake.

***

Against every fiber of his being that told him to stay and fight, Anakin ran. He aggressively swiped tears from his eyes with his arm as he did so, trying to keep his vision as clear as possible. He didn’t know where to go or what to do. Gryffindor’s common room was the other way and he would never understand the Ravenclaw riddle to get in.

Obi-Wan had only told him to go, but not where, though he’d looked at him with conviction as though he had given him a clue. Anakin was far too distressed to think of any clues. Fear swelled in him, as he considered what his two mentors were sacrificing in order to protect him, to protect the future. They believed in him, but he didn’t quite believe in himself at the moment. Maul was going to tear through this entire school and if there was one thing that was proven, it was just how inescapable that was.

He was supposed to be a hero, but he was trying to escape. It had always been the plan, but he’d never expected to have to do so alone. He was supposed to save them all, but he’d learned the hard way that he was no match for Maul.

His feet rapidly hit the ground, never once breaking stride as he tred onward. There was only so far he could go before he ended up right back where they were. He needed a place where no one would find him. He needed a safe haven.

But between the Zillo Beast, Dooku, and now Maul, he’d learned that there was no real sense of security in this wizarding world. It was fantastic in both the best and worst ways possible, with no room for the mundane quiet of peace. Anakin never typically cared when it didn’t involve a sadist breaking in and trying to murder him.

As he rounded a particularly sharp corner and briefly considered hiding in an empty classroom under a desk or in a chest, his eyes went round as he noticed not one, not two, but three dementors lingering near the dungeons. Slytherin’s common room was nearby, but they’d never let him in.

“Skywalker, what the hell are you doing?” Windu dropped in from seemingly nowhere, banishing the now mob of dementors that were swirling around them like a tornado.

“They’re everywhere!” He yelled.

“How did this happen?” Windu asked.

“Maul turned them against everyone! I don’t know how!”

Windu grimaced as they closed in on them and kept Anakin close as he flipped his cape to the side and valiantly pointed his wand with the lethal confidence of someone who had done it many times before. From Windu’s wand, a glowing blue ram burst through the wall of spinning black to create a pocket just big enough for Anakin.

“Run!” He shouted and once again, Anakin obeyed.

He needed to make sure he paid attention if he got to live to see the day patronuses were taught in school. Clearly, it was going to be an important lesson and one that Obi-Wan didn’t quite grasp yet.

Other professors were on the front lines of this massive fight against dementors whether inside or outside. Anakin leapt around one that was trying to suck the face off of Professor Ki-Adi Mundi, but was immediately banished by the vigilant Professor Shaak Ti. He never received more encouragement to keep pushing forward and away than he did in that moment.

Who would help Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan? Who would save them if all of the other professors were trying to handle the immediate threat of the dementors turning on them? His heart started to rattle as he kept going, approaching a dead end and slinking against the wall. The dementors came quicker than he anticipated even possible. Their long and bony fingers reached for him, ready to pull him into his own worst nightmares imaginable and to make them living realities. He’d snuck many horror movies in his time, but he’d never seen anything worse than them.

Where was it written that the Chosen One would need a soul to save the universe? Nowhere, it would seem, because this didn’t qualify as death, but a fate worse than. He pointed his wand out, hoping he could also learn the patronus charm on the fly, but felt the immediate disconnect between his words and his wand. They were just words in the end.

He pressed himself against the door, never wishing more than to be anywhere but here. He wished he could have found where Obi-Wan was referring. He needed it. He needed that refuge if he was going to be brave and if he was going to fight back one day.

He needed- To open his eyes?

Because once he did so, he realized that he was in a completely different room that he’d never seen before. It wasn’t empty, exactly. There were old books stacked on some rickety tables. Cobwebs lined the portraits on the walls that chatted amongst themselves. They stopped dead in the middle of conversation when they spotted Anakin.

“Er- Sorry for interrupting.” He said with a wave.

“Who the blazes are you?” The dusty portrait of a man with dark hair and light brown skin frowned deeply at Anakin.

“Don’t be rude, Master Ketu.” The hooded man in the portrait opposite to him nodded at Anakin, “Congratulations.”

“Do you even know what’s going on out there? There’s nothing to be congratulated for,” He said.

“Boy, have you no concept of what you have uncovered?” The man called Ketu pressed, his arms crossed over the numerous medals of honor that hung from his neck.

Anakin looked around him, “Uh… A dirty old classroom?”

He pinched his nose, “I swear, these children grow more ungrateful by the years.”

“To be fair, we haven’t seen a new child in over a century.” The other man said placatingly, “And there’s no way he can be worse than him. I am Ters Sendon, archivist and historian and this is Master Ketu, former leader of the old Je’daii order.”

“Je’Daii?”

“He hasn’t even heard of us.” Scoffed Ketu.

“An old group of warrior wizards who used to combat the ancient Sith during the old wars.” Ters said and Anakin gasped when he lifted off his hood to reveal horns protruding from his head just as Maul’s did. “What is it?”

“You’re… You’re like him!” Anakin backed away, nearly stumbling over a stray chair as he did, “You’re like the Sith lord that’s currently taking over our school!”

“I’m no Sith!” He protested.

“You look like him?”

“So? Sith is not a race, it’s a religion.” Ters said, “There are good people that look like me and plenty of bad people that look like you.”

Anakin considered that and realized as he looked at Ters Sendon that he didn’t bear any of the malicious traits that Maul had. There was no hate radiating off of his gaze, no yellow or orange to his eyes, no hostility in his voice. He didn’t even really look like Maul aside from the horns. As opposed to a stark red and black patterned face, Ters was more the color of leather, with beige swirls around his eyes and nose.

Ketu, not nearly as bored as he was before, stroked his black goatee, “You mean, the Sith have returned?”

“I’m supposed to defeat them someday.” Anakin said, “I’m the Chosen One. Or at least… I’m supposed to be, but I’m hiding…”

“Well, you’re much too young to fight a Sith, my boy.” Ketu said.

“Everyone’s been saying that and I know that, but how can I let other people take the fall for me?”

“Take it from someone who has seen plenty of golden haired heroes that were supposed to be chosen for greatness, you must accept that they are not fighting for you.”

“Ketu! How is that helpful?” Ters asked.

“Because it removes the pressure that comes with the position. Everyone has their place in this war, but you… You must survive. You must survive so that many others can live.” He fixed Anakin with a stern look, “That is why the Room summoned you.”

“The room?” Anakin looked around, “This place is special?”

“The Room of Requirement manifests itself only to students who truly need it.” Ters explained, “In your case, it’s to hide from this dastardly foe that breached your school.”

“If only I were alive… I’d bring this Sith to his knees.” Ketu sighed wistfully.

“I can’t just sit in here and wait!” Anakin yelped, his voice echoing around the room.

“Clearly, whatever you were running from had outnumbered you. You were whiter than a ghost.” Ters said, “And I’ve seen many ghosts.”

“Ghosts can come in here?”

“Not here, no.” Ketu shook his head, “We are the only portraits in the school that cannot move, but in our time, there were ghosts too.”

“Why can’t you move?”

“We must protect the integrity of the room,” Ters explained, “And a good thing too, because the last boy would have destroyed the place to prevent anyone else from finding it.”

“The magical enchantments were too powerful for him then, thankfully,” Ketu whistled, “I wonder where he got off to…”

“We need to get more people in here, to protect them!” Anakin said. “How can I let others follow me?”

“I think they may be safer where they are.”

Anakin wasn’t so sure.

***

Qui-Gon had but one clear goal when parrying and deflecting the onslaught of fast green bolts that erupted from Maul’s wand: get him out of the castle. Hopefully, from there, other professors stronger than he could prevent him from entering again. Qui-Gon was no fighter by nature. It took a great deal of strength and focus and connectivity with his inner peace to remain in line with Maul’s attacks. He was definitely no one’s first choice in fighting off a man who murdered countless aurors in his wake.

However, the moment he saw Maul and his possessed dementors hovering over Obi-Wan and Anakin, he knew that this would be his fight after all.

He’d never faced anything like this in his life- growing up in a time of peace was like the beautiful summer and late fall that preambled a harsh winter. Well, the ruthless attempts at his head led by the tenacious Sith was more of enough proof that winter had arrived with the full impact of a blizzard at their heels.

Qui-Gon tried to analyze and predict the Zabrak’s next attack, hoping that his strategic capabilities would balance him against the superior fighting style that was the combination of martial artistry and power. There was much hate that spewed from every fiber of Maul’s being, so personal that Qui-Gon almost took it as such. It was like every person who stood in his way somehow became Maul’s target enemy and it was obvious he wasn’t used to anyone lasting this long.

Well, Qui-Gon did have the high ground when he snuck up on Maul and took him off guard, effectively clipping the wings that the dementors brought him. He wouldn’t even begin to question how he’d did it, save for that it was obviously an ancient magic known to the Sith. As they crossed the archway to the empty Great Hall, veering away from the direction of the student dormitories to Qui-Gon’s relief, and Maul was allotted true space to spew knives and broken shards of glassware towards him at once, Qui-Gon realized why this man hid all year.

He did not hide to feel out their positioning or to even tease them. Any of that had only been a cherry on top for the malignant evil before him. No, Maul waited it out to grow, to improve his strengths, to ready himself for this fight, because regardless of the ease at which he slipped through their clenched fists, he still expected a grave one.

“Protego!” Qui-Gon shouted numerous times in numerous directions, shielding himself from every blow Maul flung at him, but dodging an incoming killing curse as well.

That was going to leave a mark on the walls.

The candles came crashing down, bathing the entire room in a gray hollowness that he wasn’t used to, but didn’t ponder. It was only fitting that a Sith was trying to take everything good about this place with him. Well, he wouldn’t have it, not on his watch, anyway.

Their beams collided, his disarming and Maul’s for the kill, creating the collaboration of blinding green and red at the middle. It resembled a golden snitch at the heart of the contact, but despite having dueled Dooku just last year, Qui-Gon felt his arm, and eventually his whole body by extension, growing weak. Dooku had been going easy on him and he knew it. Maul would do no such thing.

Maul tapped further into his heat, bearing a tight grin as he pushed harder, showing just what the dark side could do, but Qui-Gon did not and would not envy his pain or his suffering that led him to such darkness.

“You were just a child, did you even get to choose?” Qui-Gon asked, trying to possibly tap into any shred of humanity left within the empty cavern that took place of Maul’s soul. That included, bringing up a history Maul did not want to remember.

“You don’t know me.” It only emboldened his opponent’s attack, making the push and pull of their tug of war look a great deal more green than red.

“Perhaps, I do. We were students here once, right? At the same time even.”

Maul remained silent and focused. He would not monologue for Qui-Gon. It seemed he was the sort of foe not worth quarreling with.

“Give me the boy.” Was all he said.

“I cannot do that.” Qui-Gon shook his head.

“Then you will die.” He smiled.

Sweat gathered at his temples as he pushed harder, channeling the peace that existed in harmony at his core, willing the spark to burn brighter than it ever had. If not ever again, now would be the moment.

It was not looking good.

Until, an unprecedented blast of blue sent Maul skidding across the table, sliding into every stray glass and plate that had been left in shambles on the way. He was up and charging within a matter of seconds, which was remarkable on its own right, but this also meant that Qui-Gon didn’t have much of a second to breathe or consider that the wizard that entered the room was not a colleague or auror, but Obi-Wan Kenobi.

“Obi-Wan!” He shouted and moved to jump in front of him to be a last standing shield from Maul, as if that would do anything, but the boy was quick and immediately took to pursuing Maul with his own attacks.

“You shouldn’t be here.” He said.

“But I am, and we can talk about this later, no?” Obi-Wan gritted as Maul whipped out a second wand from his utility belt and let his robe drift to the ground. It seemed he came prepared for this very situation. It was a very unfortunate way to learn Maul was ambidextrous as he was just as proficient with his left hand as he was his right and was able to perform the same spell from two wands.

“We definitely will.” Qui-Gon fired back, but had to concede that the very last thing they needed to be doing to get out of here was arguing with each other. Not to mention, a very small part of him couldn’t help but be proud of Obi-Wan’s prowess for being so young.

He’d never seen him like this before- so sure of himself and so determined, as well as so underdressed. His robe and jumper were completely discarded somewhere along his way here and the sleeves of his collared shirt had been pushed up. While still wearing the tie that symbolized his house with pride, he suddenly looked much older than the boy he knew.

Even more than that, he successfully and quickly reflected Maul’s own curse back on him, sending the Sith dizzily stumbling around, though never once losing speed.

With Obi-Wan at his side, he was able to take Maul on at a more even level, even with the two wands. He and his mentee practiced in sync together. They’d never formally fought alongside each other, but where Qui-Gon moved, Obi-Wan moved, and the two took to dejecting each and every distant move displayed by Maul.

That was not to say it was easy, of course. Between the physicality and ferocity of Maul’s magical and non-magical aggression, it was still throwing the both of them through the ringer. Obi-Wan’s face was red, but laser focused and never relieved with pride if he managed to land some sort of attack.

They left out the doorway they came and through the third floor corridor, only further exhausting themselves the smaller the quarters became. Maul began to literally bounce off the walls, running up them and doing backflips to dodge and alternatively, to gain traction. As his history showed, he wasn’t purely invested in the magical portion of a fight, but the physical combat as well.

Up the stairs they went to the very top, a difficult task when Maul decided to turn the steps into slippery goo in his wake and fire on the railings. Qui-Gon had learned the latter of that sequence on his own the hard way. Obi-Wan charged ahead, more athletic than he gave himself credit for, and twice as brave. It was a lethal combination, though not one Qui-Gon would fool himself into believing would be enough to seizing Maul completely. They needed to distract him until Windu found them.

They needed help.

Maul was quite pressed when Obi-Wan managed a leg-locker spell on him, though it was only one leg by his aim. It wasn’t his fault, since Qui-Gon had to shove him aside to avoid wand arrows that came straight for his head.

Even still, there was no doubt that they were fighting better together.

The ceiling of the pointed tower crumbled, specs of dust and later actual pieces of infrastructure raining down on them and hurrying their pace. When reaching the small bridge that connected the two towers, Maul blasted the center as he ran ahead.

“Where’s he going?”

“The classrooms, it seems.” Qui-Gon answered as he tried to catch his breath. “Anakin-”

“-Is safe.” He said with resounding certainty, his blue eyes sharper than glass as he regarded him with shoulders back and his jaw squared. He was still shorter than Qui-Gon, but it was evident now more than ever that he was a child no longer. Yes, Obi-Wan was ready. Or was it that he had no choice but to be ready?

It pained Qui-Gon’s very soul, because children fighting the battles of adults never soothed him. They leapt over the chasm and through the already crumbling tower that dwindled all the way down, catching Maul at his heels after a few flights of rapidly following suit. He was either leading them to the belly of his trap or he was trying to shake them. Qui-Gon didn’t know how that spoke for their success as his opponents, but was willing to take any wins offered to them.

They were far from finished in their pursuit, as the tower began to physically shake back and forth. Taking this battle to heart, or whatever stood in place of it, Maul turned, charging up the stairs with a sword at hand pointed straight at them.

On instinct rather than through thought, Qui-Gon pushed Obi-Wan hard against the side of the wall, narrowly preventing him from meeting the tip of the blade.

“Stupefy!” He yelled, but missed and Maul went for the younger man again, a tight smile on his lips as he flipped forwards against the current of gravity and spun the sword straight towards them. Obi-Wan, who was stronger than he looked, caught Maul’s wrist before the finality of the attack could be completed. Using his entire body weight, he flung them down, doing his own half-assed little stunt to avoid being stabbed.

Qui-Gon seized his moment to attack, turning the coat of arms by the doorway onto Maul, giving them three fighters on their side. This didn’t stop Maul, who only seemed delighted by the challenge and swung at the ground to encourage it.

Obi-Wan scrambled off the ground in time and trotted alongside Qui-Gon as the knight moved forward and Maul backed himself up to the wall of the rounded tower, clashing his sword with the knight’s, meeting every swing with one of his own caliber. Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon, meanwhile, tried to use this brief moment of distraction to their advantage and fired whatever spells could come to their mind.

Obi-Wan had gotten even more creative and used a tongue fattening spell, likely trying to limit his airway.

It didn’t seem he even minded the limited mobility, though it only seemed to anger him that he was wasting his time. Maul had the advantage, being alive, but the knight had nothing to lose. Sometimes, that wasn’t a strength.

In a fit of unbridled rage, which was the only way either Qui-Gon or Obi-Wan could describe what transpired next, lightning rang through the sword and Maul leapt into the air, bringing the blade straight through the empty head of the knight and using the momentum of this force to fling the still sparking helmet towards them, hitting Obi-Wan directly in the stomach and sending him flipping over the railing with the added help of Maul diving forward to punch him square in the face.

“Immobulus!” Qui-Gon hollered, pointing his wand at Obi-Wan’s collapsing body just before he could hit the bottom stone at full-force. He was knocked out, nothing more, or maybe that’s what Qui-Gon needed to convince himself to continue edging through this battle.

The sword came down, achieving not a speck of flesh, but slicing Qui-Gon’s wand clean in two against the marble railing to their right. It was the closest he’d ever been to Maul and he understood why few wanted to approach him. He could feel the turmoil within this shell of a man, who was only driven by his own hate. He was like a walking timebomb who was expected to walk the earth like a person.

“When I’m done with you, I’ll kill the kid too,” Only he wasn’t referring to Anakin, but Obi-Wan.

“You won’t have the chance,” Qui-Gon said and kicked up his foot to toss the former knight’s sword into own hand. He was taught to wield by Count Dooku long ago, adopting many different tactics. It had always been in a gentlemanly fashion before, but Maul knew no such artistry or decency in this field. He was a predator and while he may have been playing with his food, he would still want nothing more than to collect the prize.

They backed out of the exit, Qui-Gon pursuing Maul as their blades clinked and clanked at rapid speed, each performing offensively without any pauses or breaks. Qui-Gon took his first success as they approached the classrooms and he managed to knock one of Maul’s wands free and clattering onto the ground. The Sith swordsman paid no mind, flipping backwards and inviting Qui-Gon to chase him into yet another trapped space.

He knew he was better where he could be afforded more breathing room, but at the moment, this was not a battle where Qui-Gon dictated the rules. Rarely, did the heroes get to do much of that in history. It was all about adaptivity and believing in oneself and the magic that lay within them.

“I am one with magic and the magic is within me.” He chanted on a harmonic loop inside his head, ignoring every fiber of his being that broke apart as they crashed through Professor Palpatine’s office of all places.

Perhaps, he was trying to pay a visit to his favorite professor. He looked disappointed even through the mask of focused disdain that he wasn’t present. He would never have known that Anakin might have been hiding here, after all. He lingered around the castle for a little while, but not long enough to see the students interact.

Thinking a bit like his enemy, Qui-Gon seized the weakness, going in for an elongated stalemate of the inner strengths, bringing them up close and personal.

“Who do you work for?” He asked calmly.

He knew that nothing splintered more than serenity or moreover, when their dastardly deeds took no effect on their desired target. Predictably, Maul clenched his yellow teeth to bare.

“I work for no one.” He scowled and shoved them apart, spinning and beginning a new onslaught of attacks that Qui-Gon met and dodged. The dodged shots ended up as holes that would need to be patched later and each designated attack seemed to chip away at him more and more.

Maul might have possessed an eternal source of energy from the cruelty at his very core, but he did not envy him for it.

They shuffled onto the external viaduct, which stretched back to the courtyard outside the Great Hall again, back towards the common rooms. He couldn’t let that happen. Qui-Gon knew that this was it. This long stretch of smooth stone that expanded over the chasm beneath them, was where this needed to end.

As if reading his mind, Maul closed in on him, making Qui-Gon overshoot a swing and nearly set himself off balance. Maul’s sword came down hard on the stone balustrade to their side, cracking it with the power and magical tenacity it contained, before retracting and kicking Qui-Gon in the sternum.

He rolled, backwards, and landed on his feet just in time to collide blades harshly, feeling like the swords might break if they strike again. This didn’t stop either of them and Qui-Gon desperately tried to seek out a window to take the advantage. And then, he found it. Maul’s gloved finger twitched just as he was reaching for his other wand- a dirty trick in a match of the blades, but Dooku might have done the same in his modern state.

Luckily, Qui-Gon didn’t necessarily need a wand.

He snatched the wand from midair by the sheer willpower of doing so.

“Petrificus Totalus!” And while Maul leapt to the ground, his frame stilled in the air as he caught the end of the charm, hitting the ground hard with his sword stuck frozen in hand.

He let out a heavy breath of relief. He pointed the wand at Maul and tossed the blade to the side and knelt over him. Only the man’s face could move, so he didn’t grow too close at risk of literally being bitten, but Qui-Gon looked at him sternly.

“What business do you have with the boy?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Maul chuckled lightly, “To destroy him.”

“But for what? Because he’s a threat to you?”

“No,” He would have shaken his head if he could, “Because he’s a threat to all of us.”

Qui-Gon frowned, “That- No, he will bring about an end to monsters like yourself and whatever master you refuse to name.”

“Don’t you see?” Maul said, “He is the monster.”

The words trickled through Qui-Gon’s ears like rain hitting the hard sidewalk. That couldn’t be true. He was to bring balance. Though, it was never exactly said how. It couldn’t be. The prophecy spoke of a united world and for the hero, which was Anakin, to prevail at great sacrifice.

Or at least, that’s how he interpreted it after much studying.

“That cannot be.”

“It has been written in fate. I have seen it,” And by the legitimate fear that plagued Maul’s gaze, he could tell the Sith was not lying about having been exposed to a plethora of horror, “He is but the pawn in a greater plan. Just like you and just like me.”

“He’s so much more than either of us,” Qui-Gon shook his head, keeping the wand steady at his throat, poking the skin ever so slightly. “Especially you.”

“I am merely trying to save us all,” Maul begged, “Just as you think you are. We are not that different. Skywalker isn’t either.”

“Anakin is the hero of this story, not you.” Qui-Gon said, determined now, “I will see to that.”

“No,” And just as quick as he fell, he moved too fast for Qui-Gon to even blink and the sword that had seemed frozen in time was thrust right into the pit of Qui-Gon’s stomach. Immeasurable pain soaked through him as he felt blood from all over rush through him and a varying list of parables cross his mind.

Maul brought him so close that their noses touched, “You won’t.”

He unsheathed the sword from the pit of Qui-Gon’s stomach and let him fall backwards, hitting the stone unceremoniously as sound seemed to fall behind in slow, deep motions. The blood rushed from his body and breathing suddenly became labored beyond measure. He was faced with warm sunlight, though he found himself only growing colder by the second. Slowly, the bright blue around the high sun was becoming a tunnel and getting fuzzier. The pain in his stomach was less aching as it was dull and detached from him. He saw stars and galaxies and far more than the human eyes could see.

He saw blackness that occluded the stars and realized strangely that it was a man in a dark cape. This was Vader, he knew somehow, but he couldn’t quite explain why. But there was more and as he looked into the stars that gathered in the eyes of his helmet, he saw the fates for what they were. There was so much loss in this montage of multiple realities that spawned in front of him. There was agony, hate, betrayal, death. So so much death beyond his own.

It was strange, to realize that he was dying and to not really care about the logistics of that. Instead, he cared for what he saw next: happiness, love, family, weddings, babies, revolution against an unjust cause, rebirth.

He saw the back of a man with white hair and a beard to match and while his heart initially spoke to him of his mentor, he found that the eyes that turned to meet him matched another that would grow to be wiser than them all.

He saw the good in the blond boy that everyone else feared. He saw the duality of the young brunette who was capable of far more than her small stature dictated. He saw friends he did and didn’t know. He saw them all come together and he saw them win. It was an imperfect future, full of not one, but many heroes.

Some that were chosen ones merely by their own volition. That fact settled hard and heavy. There was still much obscurity to meet the hope. Nothing, even at these far reaches of the universe, was written in stone. If there was one thing that was clear: Anakin was the key.

And in a flash he was back for a moment, given one last breath of life and to meet the tear stained eyes of Obi-Wan Kenobi.

He failed. But there was still hope.

***

“NO!” His cry was anguished and angry, his vision red like the blood dripping off the blade. He had already been running, hurrying to catch up with his mentor, not willing to leave him alone with that monster for more than a second longer than necessary.

He clearly hadn’t been fast enough.

He sprinted, faster still, wand automatically raised and flourished. A crack was heard as red light burst from his own wand and slammed into Maul, knocking him back a few feet and causing his sword to fly from his hand and over the bridge. He hadn’t even uttered the words, but his wand seemed to read his mind, connect with him and in this brief moment of connection, he hurtled as many spells as he could think of.

It was a dance of light. Maul had managed to pull his own wand out and was doing a fair job at blocking each colorful strike, but had yet to get an opening to counter. Obi-Wan tossed another stupify at Maul and it hit his protective spell so hard sparks flew.

“You’re too late,” Maul kicked a loose stone towards him, managing to distract him long enough that Maul could send a killing curse his way. He just managed to block it, the green spell falling apart just inches from his face. He staggered backwards nearly falling over the edge before launching another volley of attacks.

“I won’t let you hurt him,” Obi-Wan growled, although the pang in his chest reminded him of what he’d seen, what he hadn’t been fast enough to stop. He cast a smoke spell causing them both to be hidden within a dark cloud. Obi-Wan crept silently to the side, the only real chance he had was to catch Maul off guard. Just a few more steps-

A gust of wind kicked up from the center of the cloud blowing away the smoke screen and revealing an almost smug looking Maul. He grinned wildly, his yellow eyes gleaming like a tiger going for the kill.

Obi-Wan just managed to dodge as the spell Maul hurled blew a hole through the already crumbling parapet. He returned the favor with another stunning charm that did little more than knock Maul off balance.

Obi-Wan, however, took the opportunity rushing forwards a curse on the tip of his tongue before Maul fell backwards slamming a foot into Obi-Wan and kicking him back.

He stumbled to regain balance, but his foot slipped and time slowed as he desperately clawed for the edge of the bridge with his free hand. He swung there precariously, heart beating a mile a minute as he tried to think of something, anything. Maul grunted, he could only assume he was standing up again, making his way slowly towards what was surely Obi-Wan’s doom.

He looked to his wand, he couldn’t risk a spell, if he missed and hit the viaduct, he would surely be falling to his death. If he didn’t… Well he didn’t want to think of the terrible fate that would bring him. He swung his arm up, hand still gripping his wand, but allowing for him to pull himself up just high enough to see. Maul was approaching, wand twitching as he surely thought through every nasty spell he had at his disposal.

The dying sun came out from behind the clouds, reflecting its light off of something silver on the edge. A sudden burst of hope filled him as he whispered a series of spells that he hoped Maul took as nothing more than him praying for salvation.

Maul didn’t pause.

Obi-Wan dropped hold of the ledge flicking his wand upwards in order to soar up through the air landing behind Maul, just steady enough he was able to catch the silver sword, sapphires glittered across the bottom, a sight to behold if he weren’t busy lunging with it.

Maul had turned just in time to watch as Obi-Wan used every bit of strength, every bit of magic left in his body to bring the sword clear through his middle. The sadist had the decency to look surprised, shocked that he could be foiled by a scrawny 17 year old when so many had tried and failed before. Obi-Wan brought up his foot and kicked, returning the favor of pushing the Zabrak off the viaduct, he didn’t bother watching him fall.

The clatter of the sword falling out of Obi-Wan’s hand and onto the stone brought him out of his adrenaline induced daze and he turned his head almost robotically to where Qui-Gon still lay. He was breathing, but barely, each breath looked laborious even from afar.

“Qui-Gon!” One moment he was standing over where he committed a high wizarding crime and another he was on his knees next to his mentor. He ripped off his top layer and pressed over the wound desperately trying to stop the bleeding even though he could feel that his trousers were already being soaked through.

“No, no,” Qui-Gon batted his hands away, but it only gave Obi-Wan the determination to press harder.

“It’ll be alright, you’ll be fine,” Obi-Wan repeated to himself as he focused on the task at hand. A shaky hand caught his wrist and he tore his eyes away from the gore and met Qui-Gon’s deep blue eyes. Eyes normally filled with mystery and whimsy were focused just enough to quelm his fast-racing thoughts.

“Obi-Wan,” He pleaded, “Anakin-”

“Anakin’s fine!” Obi-Wan shook his head angrily, “I already told you he’s-”

“I need you to see that Anakin gets his training,” Qui-Gon grasped for his attention again and he gave it though he struggled too, “Anakin must become a wizard, he is the chosen one,” Qui-Gon spoke the words with a strong conviction as if he had been born with this knowledge and hadn’t found out along with the rest of them last year.

“Yes, sure, but Qui-Gon-” Obi-Wan tried, but froze when Qui-Gon struggled for a breath.

“Promise me Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon managed to pant, “Promise me you’ll see to it.”

“I promise,” He answered, they looked into each other’s eyes for a beat more before Obi-Wan returned to his task, wishing quite desperately that he’d gone with Satine to those first aid classes instead of the dueling club, “But don’t worry about that now, I-”

Qui-Gon’s breathing ceased.

There were no other sounds. He couldn’t hear the birds in the sky or the breeze through the trees; it was only silence. He felt his mouth form words, but couldn’t hear them. He moved his hands from Qui-Gon’s middle towards his shoulders shaking him once, twice, three times. He felt tears trailing down his face and he tried to wipe them away, likely just smearing his own face with the blood of both that murderer and of Qui-Gon. Merging the two of their beings together like they were twisted up into some horrifying cycle of fate. He pressed his head, body trembling, to Qui-Gon’s chest, praying to hear even an unsteady heartbeat.

All he could hear was silence.

He stayed there, unable to move and hardly unable to breathe at Qui-Gon’s side, sitting vigil for his mentor, his most trusted ally, the wisest man he knew. Eventually the bubble was bound to break and if it wasn’t Qui-Gon growing cold under him it was the hand that fell on his shoulder.

He flinched, whipping to the side prepared to fight another enemy, but his hands fell at the guarded look of Windu’s eyes. The professor tried to pull him away, but he broke out of his grasp with more strength than he’d thought he had left.

“Where’s Maul?” Windu crouched beside him, gently pressing Qui-Gon’s eyes shut. Obi-Wan couldn’t find it in himself to speak and he shook his head to try and convey that, but Windu just grabbed his shoulders and looked him straight in the eye, “I need to know if he’s still around.”

“I ki-” He tried, voice croaky and ruined in his silence, “He’s gone. Dead.”

Professor Windu said nothing, just placed a hand on his back for a moment more before standing. He swished his wand, brilliant red and gold sparks bursting out and filling the night sky, announcing to all that they were finally safe. However, after the display of colors he did not lower his wand and instead kept it raised, the tip glowing softly in the night’s sky.

Professor Plo Koon was the next to join them, his eyes sad and mournful under the light of their two wands. Then one by one the professors arrived, each taking in the scene and lighting their wands in silence. Obi-Wan felt much too numb sitting there on his own, magic exhausted from the fight, to locate his own wand much less light it in honor. Qui-Gon had never been much for ceremonies anyways, but the thought brought him no comfort.

The unspoken vigil ended as Headmaster Palpatine lowered his own wand, followed by Professor Windu. Obi-Wan was stood up by the latter, this time he found no fight left in him, and escorted towards the castle. He kept an eye on Qui-Gon’s body for as long as he could, but surrounded by the Headmaster and various professors it was impossible to see long before he crossed the threshold into the school.

#anakin skywalker #obi-wan kenobi #obitine #anidala #the clone wars #tcw #star wars #magical forces au #hpau

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some-cookie-crumbz · 3 years

Text

Berry Blast

Berry Blast Fandom: My Hero Academia Pairing: TodoMomo Summary: TodoMomo Positivity Week Day 3 Prompt Fill: Direct partner piece for my previous day fill [here] but can be read as a stand alone. After agreeing to an anniversary picnic, Momo begins stressing about what she should bring along. She isn’t exactly the most domestic of women, after all. Thankfully, she has a little bit of help of her own to get things sorted out. Standard Disclaimer: If you read and enjoy this, please give it a like/ reblog so I know if I should write more.

When Shoto had first suggested to Momo that they spend their first anniversary having a little picnic together, she’d been delighted. The idea of the two of them settling in for a homemade lunch together was something straight out of one of the shojo mangas Mina and Tooru had gotten her hooked on! And to think that Shoto had insisted on preparing all the food himself? Well, that had her swooning all over again. After all, what could possibly be sweeter than a boyfriend preparing a humble lunch for his girlfriend?

And then the thought struck her; shouldn’t she bring something as well?

Drinks seemed simple enough, so she made a note in the back of her mind to pick some up on her way. That, however, seemed far too simple. And impersonal. She wanted to do something just as sincere and thoughtful as what Shoto was doing for her! Then, her mind jumped over to the idea of sweets. They were the most frequently offered gift when a young lady was interested in a young man. That thought then led her to the conclusion of dessert. Why, she could surely bake something to bring along! A homemade dessert would be a perfect partner to a homemade picnic lunch!

And so, she got to work!... And very quickly hit a few roadblocks.

Her initial thought was to make something like a strawberry shortcake. She remembered that Shoto enjoyed that strawberries were a mix of sweet and tart. He liked sweet things on occasion, but he had expressed that too much tended to give him an upset stomach. She had picked up the ingredients but then read another article online that expressed that the one-year mark was something that warranted going that extra little bit to make it even more spectacular, that often times this anniversary could make or break a relationship.

So she cast that idea aside and decided to try something different.

Upon looking into things more, she selected macarons, as they could be various flavors and colors, meaning she could customize them as she wanted. She encountered trouble with separating the egg whites and then with consistency issues. She scrapped that and then moved on to making chocolate souffles. She tried two separate batches but couldn’t get them to rise properly, regardless of what she tried. Momo changed gears at that point and decided to pick a treat that was a testament to her partner; baked Alaska! She had figured that he could be able to safely set the treat on fire once they were actually ready for it. However, when she tried to bake in the ice cream, it completely melted. And that wasn’t even covering the problems she encountered trying to prepare the meringue for the dish!

So, then she decided to try a lemon meringue pie instead. That, she reasoned, would also be a bit more Shoto’s style, as it was a better blend of sweetness and tartness. She had heard that pies could be incredibly tricky to an untrained hand, but she wasn’t worried. After all, it couldn’t be half as hard as fighting villains or training under Aizawa-Sensei! She had done those things with the greatest of ease so she could rise to this occasion!

Or so she’d thought when she started. Instead, she ended up hunched over the counter, on the verge of frustrated tears, unable to miss the whispers of the kitchen staff just outside the kitchen proper.

“Should we be concerned?”

“That’s, what, the fourth attempt she’s made?”

“Well, at least this time she didn’t set anything on fire?”

“No, instead she just managed to under cook it to the point it’s more liquid than anything else. Like, it is as runny and drippy as my son’s nose gets when he’s got a cold,”

“Oh, hush! The young miss is trying her best!”

She squeezed her eyes shut tighter, taking a deep breath to calm herself and try to block out the commentary. Yes, she didn’t have a lot of experience with baking, but it couldn’t be that hard! Sato-Kun at school baked all the time and never had nearly as much trouble as all this! He made treats like these for their peers all the time! That was many more people than she was aiming for! So… Why? Why couldn’t she get this right?

She jumped when there was a gentle hand patting at her head, followed by a familiar voice asking, “Now, what’s all this, Momochi?”

Momo pushed herself up and looked at the older man beside her in shock. “Father… I thought you and Mother were going to be away for four days,” she said in lieu of a proper greeting.

He chuckled, shifting to lean more heavily on the cane in his other hand. “Ah, well, you know how your mother can be. She tends to push projects along to a more streamlined process,” he said before reaching out and brushing a thumb under her eye to wipe away the tears threatening to spill. “Now, what’s got you so distressed?”

She felt heat creep up along her cheeks. “I-I was… Well, uh, you see-!”

“Honestly, Momo,” Another voice chimed in, “what is all of this fuss about? And this mess! If you wanted to have some kind of exotic snack you should have asked one of the chefs. We hired them for a reason.”

Momo averted her gaze to her hands, fingers fiddling with the edge of the messy apron she was adorning. Of course Mother had opinions about this. “I was… Trying to prepare something on my own,” she mumbled.

“What for?” she asked with a raised brow.

“My boyfriend and I are having our one year anniversary tomorrow,” she explained, her fidgeting getting worse as she spoke, “So I wanted to make something myself to share with him.”

Mother’s face screwed up in confusion, her head tilting slightly. “Boyfriend?”

“Yes, dear! Shoto-Kun, remember?” Father said, already moving to and fro in the kitchen as best as he could with the cane. He was rummaging through one of the pantries in search of something but perked back up as he closed the door. “Well, I suppose you wouldn’t. We only know of him from Momochi’s stories and the sports festival footage. We really should work to fix that. If you two are committed enough to be together for a year, it only makes sense we have a dinner at some point to meet him properly.” He nodded to himself at that before opening another drawer and plucking out the matryoshka doll-inspired measuring cups he’d bought shortly after Momo’s Quirk had manifested.

Back then, before Father fell ill, Momo remembered spending afternoons in the kitchen with him while he prepared all manner of snacks for her to choose from. Those measuring cups had been selected specifically to be used for her treats and her treats alone.

“Ah, that’s right… Endeavor-Sama’s boy,” Mother said, clearly remembering at least one conversation they’d had about it before. She then scowled as she watched Father continued rummaging through the cabinets and drawers. “Umeo… What are you doing? You are supposed to be resting.”

“And I’ll rest after helping Momo with this, Mikan,” he said with a small smile as he set the measuring cups down on the counter in front of Momo. He turned to face her with a bright smile on his face. “Our daughter will only get to celebrate her first year anniversary with her boyfriend once, you know.”

Some of the harshness in Mother’s expression dwindled at that, some of her sharper edges dulling. Father always seemed to have a way about drawing that expression from her. “... Very well. But I am going to have someone here to monitor that you do not overdo it,”

“Of course, of course! Now, let’s see… I know I left the recipe book around here somewhere,” he grumbled, moving to open another drawer.

Mother shook her head, a small smile turned up on her lips as Father released a satisfied cry and held the book up appraisingly. Her gaze shifted back to her only daughter, maintaining that same delicacy that Father had brought out. “And, Momo?” She nodded tentatively at being addressed. “Congratulations on reaching such a significant milestone in your relationship.” With that, Mother squared her shoulders and walked back out of the kitchen, pausing briefly to nudge one of the eavesdropping chefs in to monitor things.

“Thank you, Mother,” she called after her. When she turned back around, Father had replaced the cook book she’d been using with his own and was flipping pages. “Ah, Father! I’m going to be doing this on my own!”

“Oh, my apologies! I promise I’m not trying to step on your toes or take charge; just getting the section pulled up for you, Momochi,” he said before carefully moving to a chair the assisting chef hurriedly dragged over. Sometimes she was astounded at how a man so ill could still be so spry.

She instead turned her attention to which section in his recipe book he’d opened to, tilting her head slightly. “Hmm? These are… So simple,”

“Simple, yes, but always a crowd pleaser,” he chuckled.

“But… I wanted to do something… bigger, I suppose? These are just… incredibly basic,” she said, unable to mask the disappointment in her tone.

“There’s nothing wrong with something simpler, dear,” he said, motioning her to approach him. When she was close enough, he took her hands and gave a small squeeze, smiling widely up at her. “Love isn’t always about grand, sweeping gestures or flashy gifts. Sometimes, the most significant shows of love are in the simple, in the basics.” There was something in his smile as he glanced from her to the entryway where Mother had left through. The gleam in his eyes was one of pure adoration, she knew, and couldn’t help but feel a small smile turn up on her own lips as he turned back to face her. Of all the things Momo knew in this world, the love between her parents was the most comforting to her. “When you’re young and inexperienced, love always seems like something that’ll solve everything, make every day good. That’s what movies and books and everything else tells you, after all. And… That’s only true to some extent. Sometimes, Momo, love is about comfort and familiarity. After all, when you love someone, you know them as well as yourself. Sometimes the best shows of love are in remembering little things, like how they take their coffee.”

She blinked before squeezing his hands in return gently. “Shoto-Kun likes strawberries, so… I want to make something with those in them,”

“Ah, I think I know something that’ll be perfect for you then. I believe it’s on page 53,”

She did as he said, lighting up at the recipe she found, before scurrying over the the fridge to make sure she had all the necessary ingredients to get started.

……………………………………………………………..

Momo let out a small, contented sigh as she took a small sip from her lemonade. “Thank you so much for the lovely lunch, Shoto-Kun,” she hummed happily, placing her empty bento in his waiting hands.

“To be honest,” he said, a faint blush to his cheeks as he started putting their things away, “it wasn’t all me. I had help from Fuyumi-Nee and Nezumi-San. I wanted to make sure the food was actually… Well, edible.”

“I’m sure it would have been fine, regardless,” she argued politely.

He flashed her one of his signature dead-pan stares. “You have too much faith in me, Momo,”

She giggled a bit before turning to rummage through her own bag of goodies. “Well, if we’re being honest… Father helped me with the cookies. Or, rather, Father helped me decide what to make and then assured I followed the proper process to make them,” she said as she pulled out the tupperware container and peeled the lead off. She held it towards him, her heart fluttering nervously in her chest. “Here, please try one.”

“Thank you,” he said, taking one and looking it over. She saw how his eyes lit up when he noticed the strawberry chunks sticking out. The recipe wasn’t anything revolutionary - just a simple strawberry shortcake cookie with cream cheese filling - but she hoped that the care she’d taken in their preparation would make up for that. For as much as Father had reassured her about the gesture not needing to be extravagant, she still couldn’t completely quell her nervousness. She watched as he took a bite, eyes widening as he chewed, before tossing the rest of the cookie into his mouth eagerly. “These are delicious. Really delicious.”

“You like them?”

“Very much, yes. The combination of strawberries and cream cheese is just sweet enough,” he said while grabbing to take out two more cookies, taking a bite out of one the second the words left his mouth. He swallowed his bite and smiled at her. “Thank you for preparing these, Momo.”

“My pleasure, Shoto-Kun,” she hummed, plucking a cookie out for herself and resting her head against his shoulder. As she took a bite, she sent a silent thanks to Father for both the recipe and his advice.

#My Hero Academia #TodoMomo #Yaoyorozu Momo #Todoroki Shoto #TodoMomo Positivity Week #my fics #I gave Momo's parents names that are also fruits #Because I fookin can #Fun fact: This was the hardest prompt to figure out for me lmao

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stereden · 4 years

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Author commentary: THE BOYS FINALLY BREAKING DOWN IN SHANKS CABIN PLEASE AND THANK YOU

One of my all time favourite scenes and also one of the ones where I made myself cry writing it xD

Buggy’s breakdown had been planned from the very first moment Buggy appeared at Marineford: even without that particular clusterfuck, Buggy had just spent months in Impel Down with no news of his crew, then had to deal with the nerve wracking experience that is Monkey D. Luffy and the escape of Impel Down itself, which, honestly, would be enough to give any reasonable person a nervous breakdown (hence why it had no effect whatsoever on Luffy)

But then came Marineford, and with it multiple triggers and aggravating factors for Buggy.

Psychological/emotional factors, first: having all these escaped prisoners look to him for leadership; the realisation that his captain had had a kid and never told them; the realisation that the Rogers gathered to save the kid but couldn’t be bothered to come and save him; the setting, much too reminiscent to Loguetown and Roger’s death; a kid being held responsible for his father’s sins; the emotional toll of having oversensitive Haki and being in the middle of the biggest battlefield ever, bigger even than Edd War had been; seeing the Rogers again for the first time since Roger’s death; seeing Crocus again, with everything that happened there; being alone until Rockstar makes it there; being terrified of being recognised and hunted down again; the parallels between Roger’s death and Newgate’s attempt at going out in a blast of glory while allowing his kids to escape

Add in the physical factors: a battlefield full of giants on both side; Devil fruits aplenty rewriting the laws of physics; too much noise; too many smells; the very buildings being liable to collapse at any moment because of Devil Fruit fuckery; Buggy’s own physical state being... very not good after Impel Down; Buggy being very aware of just how small a fish he is compared to everyone else there...

Buggy’s breakdown was sealed in stone long before he decided to step in between Akainu and his prey - that part just made it even worse than it would have been. Add in Sengoku targetting him, then Blackbeard getting a bit too interested, and the fact that Buggy didn’t have a panic attack right there and then is a testament to his survival instincts, honestly.

Now Shanks, Shanks on the other hand would have been mostly fine if Buggy hadn’t been in danger. It sounds callous, putting it like this, but it’s definitely Buggy’s role in it that pushed him over the edge. Sure, he would have been very worried about Luffy, and probably would have had a heart attack or ten, but he would be nowhere as badly off as he was with Buggy in the middle of things - and, he would probably have been even more worried but a lot less on the edge of a flashback himself if it hadn’t been broadcasted.

Because this whole thing, this is way too similar to what happened to them when they were kids and being hunted down by Roger’s enemies. Having Buggy be in danger, be hurt while Shanks can do nothing but watch, is the worst form of torture, a reminder of those years they got separated and Buggy went through hell without Shanks being there to help him. And, unlike with Luffy where he can at least somewhat trust that Newgate’s people won’t let the reckless brat die on them, if only for Ace’s sake... He has no such assurances in Buggy’s case, with the exception of Rockstar, who he couldn’t be sure had made it to Marineford until he showed up on the screen. Until he saw Rockstar, he had absolutely zero assurance that someone out there was watching Buggy’s back. Worse, he knows Buggy is this close to a breakdown and has no guarantee that he’ll be able to keep it at bay until Shanks can get there. And then Buggy, who’s not exactly a crack shot with a gun, is suddenly facing a rampaging Akainu with only a gun in hand, and he somehow manages the perfect shot, but then Sengoku is about to attack him and then Blackbeard, and yeah, no, that does it, Shanks is done with everything.

Now on to the breakdown proper (after six huge paragraphs of what led to the breakdown itself xD)

It was very important for me that the breakdown take place privately, in a space that feels safe for both of them: so, of course, it had to happen in Shanks’ cabin. Not only is it isolated and you would have to go through every single Akagami + Force and Speed in order to get to them, this is a space that is basically infused with Shanks presence, which would have a soothing and comforting effect for Buggy.

They both really, really needed a hug, so of course that’s the first thing that happens in that scene. Physical reassurrance that the other is real, is here and alive.

It was also important that, while Shanks was also on edge and about to have his own breakdown, Buggy had his first: he’d been pretending to be fine for too long, but now his mask is breaking, and Shanks has already proven himself to be very, very good at pushing his own breakdown aside to care for those he loves (see: Smiling at Luffy and comforting him despite just getting his entire arm bitten off by a giant seamonster). And Shanks, objectively, has been through less, emotionally and physically speaking, than Buggy, and the best way for Shanks to help himself right now is to help Buggy.

The shower scene just had to happen, because I’m a sucker for someone crying fully clothed in the shower and someone else stepping in to comfort them scenes.

The fact that they maintain physical contact during the entire scene is very much deliberate. They are both very much codependent and tend to touch all the time whenever they meet up, but this is compounded by Buggy having just spent months alone in an unsafe environment where any touch meant pain. Buggy is very much touchstarved, and also needs the grounding effect of Shanks’ touch to prevent himself from spiralling or dissociating. In return, Shanks very much needs the reassurance that Buggy is right there, alive and breathing despite everything that happened.

Same for the sleep schedule and nightmares: it’s in part a return to habits they got while on the run (one sleeping, one keeping watch for enemies, which also means someone being there to wake you up if you’re having a nightmare) and also a way to help each other through the nightmares that they’re both going to have for a long time after this mess.

I’m also a sucker for non-sexual intimacy, so that added to that part as well.

The thing is, while both of them have crews that they love and who love them right back, and who can and do support them and help them as much as they can, the fact remain that, most of the time, the only person that can really help them is each other. It’s not just the shared past and shared trauma, though that plays a role as well; it’s also a matter of a. unconditional trust and b. their position as equal vs their position as captain over their own crews. Even if they’re not too big on authority and hierarchy within their own crews, the fact remains that their nakama are their responsabilities and they don’t want to burden them with their problem or feel like their crew needs to protect them when it’s their jobs to protect their crews.

(And also, maybe, not wanting their crews to go on a murder spree on their behalf, but that’s another matter entirely)

So the only person they can really go to when they reach their limit is each other, but because of circumstances (cough cough Garp throwing a tantrum cough cough) they hadn’t been able to see each other in person in over three years. Denden calls help, but they’re not the same. So it’s not just Impel Down and Marineford and seeing the Rogers that just hit them, it’s also over three years without seeing each other and being able to help each other through memories and nightmares both.

One of the things I really wanted to get through with this scene is that there’s no shame in having emotions, nor in expressing them - expressing your emotions is healthy! No toxic mascuilinity here, no sire! Not expressing them in a situation where it could be dangerous is one thing, but you are allowed to be vulnerable and need help and ask for it.

This is probably a much longer commentary than you expected haha but I hope you enjoyed it!

#stereden talks #one piece #dvd commentary #stereden writes #buggy the clown #akagami no shanks #Watashitachi wa Roger kaizoku desu (we still stand proud)#the breakdown scene #yes i made myself cry writing that particular scene #Anonymous

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mightymorphingayagenda · 5 years

Note

Nessian assassin au???? X

Much like a circle, or the opinions of men on women’s reproductive rights; this date was pointless.

The reasons for this inescapable fact were listless, but included the following:

1. In Nesta Archeron’s line of work, dating, was like trying to watch the news without getting pissed of. An admiral thing to attempt, but equally misguided and inevitably unsuccessful.

2. Nesta’s suitor was Rhysand brother; meaning he would no doubt be an arrogant, preening idiot with indecently good looks and a whole lot of nothing else going for him by blood.

3. Nesta was already hopelessly and disastrously in love.

Of course Nesta hadn’t been able to use any of these as valid excuses to get out of the date. “Hey Feyre, just calling to say that I know you want me to go on this blind date, but I actually can’t because you see, I’m a gun for hire, which as you can imagine makes dating rather tricky. Also I’m absolutely gone for my latest target’s bodyguard, who I’ve never actually spoken to but in the month and a half I’ve been stalking him has somehow managed to make me fall head over heels for him. Anyway, we still on for brunch on Thursday?”

It truly was a tragic set of circumstances.

Nesta thanked the door-man as he slipped her coat from her frame. Carefully and expertly folding the garment over his forearm and heading to the cloakroom. She’d made sure to give him a considerable tip, knowing her coat was probably worth more than what he made in a month.

Nesta wasn’t ashamed of her money, as far as she was concerned all currency was blood money. Every dollar in America was built on colonialism and funded by a corrupt economic system, she didn’t see why her cash was any dirtier just because she earned it by putting bullets in the backs of people’s heads. But she’d made it practice to always leave generous tips where she could.

Nesta would always remember Friday nights spent counting pennies on a dirty windowsill because it meant they could use the light of the street lamps when their own electricity had been cut off. Her hollow stomach ringing out along side the metallic song of coins with an ache like she’d been punched in the gut.

Now she was rolling in it.

“Comfortable” as Feyre would say.

The Archeron sisters had made good; Feyre having married into the richest family in the west of the globe, Elain with a clientele of elitists gagging to throw their wealth at the most extravagant weddings her sister could plan and Nesta cashing in a six figure transaction ever time she pulled a trigger.

But she wasn’t flashy. Nesta found something grossly immature in wearing wealth obtusely and without taste. This evening she’d opted for a simple dress, a dark emerald thing that reached her mid thigh and hugged her full form with a lethal softness. Bare of any jewellery and hair like dark chocolate loose and softly curled, her makeup had been applied minimally save for her mouth which she had painted a red like cracking blood, leaving her lips like a brutal bruise against her soft complexion.

It was the perfect ensemble for Le Divinità, tastefully expensive so that she did not look out of place in the architecturally exquisite building, the warm glow of the soaring room warming her bare arms and gold detailing and chandeliers with dripping, diamonte glass offset against the kenia cream marble.

While Nesta was set on finding fault in her date, his taste was undeniable. Le Divinità had never prioritised fad-like trend and a costly ambience over good food and a legendary bar.

Heels clipping quietly against the stone floor, Nesta made her way over to said bar, fingers already restless for a cigarette to still her agitated dread at what was to come. She ordered a gin, straight, and checked her phone for the time. She’d made sure to arrive early, primarily to ensure she had time to neck back some liquor before her date arrived, but also because she’d find some small joy in making him uncomfortable having seemingly left her waiting.

Slinking into a bar stool, she tucked her ankle behind the another and taking a long sip of her gin, she couldn’t help where her mind wondered like a cheated lover back to their betrayer. Sickened with her own besotted crush as though it were a thick spoon of honey she were gagging on, Nesta still couldn’t help but think of him.

She’d spent this afternoon atop a rooftop, tortured by the unfolding Friday ritual she could now confirm went unaltered each week.

From noon till four in the afternoon Helion Day would work out in his private gym, located on the top floor of his more frequented office building, with his oh so gorgeous bodyguard.

The soaring glass windows meant Nesta had been entirely unobstructed as the only audience member to a truly delicious show of both men’s physiques. Her binoculars trembling slightly in her hands as she’d watched the CEO’s companion begin completing a gruelling regime of pull ups, bench pressing and combat instruction, all without a shirt. The expanse of his powerfully built upper body was the stuff of Nesta’s dreams. Tan flesh slick with sweat and dusted with fine hair over the broad panes of his defined chest and running in a darkening trail down his chiselled abdomen to disappear beneath the low slung waistband of his sweatpants that made a profuse Adonis belt visible to Nesta. With his thick hair tied back in a bun, intricate tattoos mapping his left pectoral and creeping over his arms and an obvious stubble creeping up his jaw, Nesta hadn’t known where to keep her eyes for longer than a hot moment of agonising appreciation. She knew where her eyes were should have been, but while her client also had his own physical appeal, Nesta only had eyes for one man.

He was so impossibly broad and large it gave Nesta a primal thrill to think of how he could use that brute strength to fuck her as hard and rough as she craved. The impression of his cock through those sweat pants had left Nesta staring at one of her largest vibrators once she’d got home and telling herself that there was no way he could have been bigger, despite what she’d seen implied.

She’d closed her eyes and pictured him beneath her as she’d then rode the pink toy, her cunt throbbing with wet arousal from the hours of visual foreplay. She burned to know what his voice sounded like. Whether he would groan as he fucked her throat with his thick cock, or if he’d murmur filthy words or encouragement and praise. She’d almost given herself a headache trying to fabricate in her mind the noises escaping his mouth as he’d worked out. That rugged jaw clenching in moments of intense exertion and handsome face often appearing as though he were grunting through a movement that Nesta swore would snap any other man in half.

“Nesta?”

A purely male and deep voice sounded from beside her.

She turned, and almost shattered the half empty glass in her hand.

Had it been spiked?

The gin has to have been laced with some hallucinogenic- that was literally the only reality that she would accept being any part of. Because standing before her, was Helion Day’s body guard.

Fuck.

“Do I know you?” she drawled boredly.

He wore a crisp, white dress shirt which hugged his upper body in a way that was doing things for Nesta, and a simple pair of slacks that had clearly been tailored to his powerfully built legs.

She was utterly, truly and absolutely fucked.

What the hell was she meant to do? She’d been made, she’d been fucking made. Three years and Nesta had never made one mistake, hadn’t slipped up once, she hadn’t just done everything by the book she’d all but written the new bloody testament on assassination, so how the fuck had this guy caught her?

“Well you know of me, Sweetheart” his smile was like watching chocolate melt, warm, rich and decadent. A five o’clock shadow was cast across his jaw and an entirely unfair dimple kissed the corner of his mouth as he smirked with a dangerous combination of pure male arrogance and sincere attention.

She played at looking him up and down with a dismissive flick of her eyes. “Unlikely,” she said absently, taking a sip of her gin, her lashes fluttering shut as though she were physically pained by the boredom this interaction caused her. Should she smash the glass and get a deep swipe at his gut, going for the face as he’d lunge at her and then try and make a break for the door? He was at least six foot, and Nesta knew exactly how toned he was, but she was quick.

He clutched a hand to his chest playfully, his eyes still dangerously assured “you wound me” he said, before leaning in ever so slightly so that Nesta swore she could taste the echo of an aged cigar on his breath. “And to think I was arrogant enough to believe it was me you’d got all dolled up for this evening” he winked, plucking a cube of brown sugar from a tiny dish on the bar and popping it between his perfect teeth, a smooth and swoon-worthy smugness set in his jaw that Nesta couldn’t work out if she wanted to punch or kiss off of his stupidly gorgeous face.

“And to think,” she purred sweetly, “I was naïve enough to think I would be able to get all dolled up this evening without an entitled asshole bothering me” Nesta’s glare was cool as the ice that swirled in glossy cubes at the bottom of her glass.

He was toying with her, like she were some amusing doll he’d found and watching her try to wriggle out of this with nothing but a sharp tongue was his new favourite game.

“Well thank god I’m not an entitled asshole, just the very good looking one your sister set you up with. However, if any such individuals approach you, let me know and I will defend both your honour and right to look as lovely as you do without the unsolicited advances of men”

Nesta felt like a party popper had gone off in her rib cage and she was choking on the streams of confetti in her throat, heartbeat off kilter.

There was no way.

Nesta’s life had taught her that the universe did not have a sense of humour, and the only way that her bodyguard heart-throb also happened to be Rhysand’s brother, was if she were the metaphorical punchline of some cosmic joke. An assassin and a bodyguard walk into a bar… god it even sounded like a shitty joke.

“Cassian Velarys” he extended a large hand to her, which Nesta took, slightly entranced by the unfolding madness. He pressed a brief kiss to the back of her palm which Nesta had not been expecting.

“You look nothing like Rhysand” she said.

A light chuckle escaped him and Nesta thought he might need to hold her upright if he kept being so damned sexy.

Rhysand was what Nesta would describe as pretty, with piercing eyes that she refused to admit we’re actually violet, and sharp features cut with classical beauty, while Cassian was a far more devastating kind of handsome where Nesta was concerned. Wilder, throbbing with power and unrefined, rough charm. And older as well she’d guess, but not by much. They couldn’t be related, this could not be happening.

“I’m adopted” he explained.

Nesta could not believe the absolute insanity of this. It was a coincidence of Shakespearean plot; throw in some inadvertent incest or cannibalism and it would have been a Greek bloody myth.

She took a sweeping swig of her gin, chin tossed back delicately enough but still allowing the rest of the liquor to empty into her system.

The most infuriating part of this entire bullshit scenario was that it made total sense. Feyre has told her that Rhysand’s brother ran a security firm, but that at the moment he was doing some private hire work for a friend. Hell she’d even mentioned in passing a few months ago how Helion was an old friend of the Velarys brothers.

Okay, okay so this was happening.

The bartender had appeared again to take Cassian’s order and Nesta couldn’t help but take the opportunity to fawn over that handsome face up close at last. A doe like softness to her eyes that the bartender definitely noticed even if Cassian didn’t, his attention on the wine list as he asked about a Portuguese red. At work he’d always worn black Ts and trousers, the fitted fabric hugging at his chiselled upper body. The man cleaned up nice. Which was saying a lot when his comparatively unkept state was enough to have Nesta worried she might literally be drooling as she observed him. With her cheek propped on her curled fist, elbow against the bar, Nesta couldn’t have dragged her gaze away if she’d had a gun to her head as she watched him finish up his order and added, “And vodka” flicking her eyes to the man behind the bar. “Lots, and lots or vodka”.

#nessian #nesta x cassian #nesta archeron #cassian #acotar #acowar #acomaf #acofas #elain archeron #sjmaas #nessian au #nessian fic #nessian prompt #nessian fill

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golden-deer-dear · 4 years

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The Weight of a Name, Claude x Byleth AU Fic, Chapter 3

Summary: One decision can change the course of nations. When King Mahtab brought home a baby from Fódlan, he gave his own son someone to stand at his side. Byleth grows up side by side with Claude, surviving the hardship of Almyra together. For each, they are the other’s only friend.

Notes: Pedar - father (formal) Maman - mother (informal)

1162, 1167 Read on AO3.

The Weight of a Name 1169

The entire city celebrated, decked in brightly colored ribbons with music echoing down every street. For the common folk it was a day off from labor, when the palace passed out free bread and ale, and they danced in the streets until the dawn’s light touched the golden city. For the nobility, it was nothing more than lip service.

Oh, they could smile and wish him well, but Claude knew there were plots of treachery and treason on those tongues. And it was because of him and his mother. His father’s throne hung by a thread because Mahtab had chosen to marry the woman he loved, and she just so happened to not be Almyran born. So while the nobility smiled, Claude thanked them for their attendance with all the regality a seven year old could muster, matching their toothy lies with his own. Even at this early age, Claude knew navigating his own birthday party was more dangerous than traversing a minefield.

He only let his guard slip once. When Nader and Naima entered, his eyes immediately sought out Byleth. Nader had increased Claude’s training regime, while Mahtab had hired more tutors to instruct his son in different subjects, which had left him with very little time. In the past year and a half he had only managed a handful of brief encounters with Byleth. It didn’t help that Nader rarely brought Byleth with him to court, but those conversations flowed so easily. Byleth, despite all the strangeness surrounding her, was the easiest person to hold a conversation with. She always had some insight that knocked him off his feet and intrigued him all at once.

But Claude still remembered their first meeting, still strove to match her strength. He hoped it would not be much longer now before Nader deemed Claude worthy to train with the older girl.

Claude did a double take when Nader moved, allowing him to lay eyes on Byleth. She did not look like Byleth at all. Naima had done up her long hair in a complex series of braids, piling them all on top of Byleth’s head, save the forelock at the side of her head. Not a hair was out of place, testament to Byleth’s unnatural patience. Claude was simply glad Almyran fashion only dictated he have one braid in his hair. He would have found some way to escape if he had to sit through all that.

The light pastels of her dress were dwarfed by the loud colors of the older women, the gossamer layers piling on color after color to make them all look like songbirds. It was currently the height of fashion in the court at the moment. Byleth skirts floated around her, split on each side up to the hip to reveal light cotton pants beneath. Typical to most Almyran fashion, the skirts were easy to move in, allowing the wearer the full range of motion of their legs should they find themselves in a fight.

Still, Claude had never seen Byleth in anything other than the casual cottons and leather armor Nader provided her. It made sense though that Naima, motherly and proper almost to a fault, would have put her foot down on that one. Byleth looked like a proper noble child, as strange as that was. He never actually considered Nader a proper noble before.

His mother’s hand landed gently on his shoulder, drawing his attention back to the proceedings. “Duty first, my sun. We are almost done now.” Her green eyes glittered like gems in the dying sunlight, laughing at his impatience. People always said he had inherited her eyes, but he thought hers were more lively than his. Perhaps one day, when he was as strong as her, he could pull off that mischievous little twinkle as well.

Claude nodded, and continued to greet the last of the nobles filing into the feast. Already there were loud cheers as the first round of a wrestling tournament began. Some nobles would be late as a show of disrespect, but no one would be late enough to miss the bouts. His uncle, Keveh hot on the older man’s heels, was the last to enter. Their greetings were tinged with teeth clenching politeness, before Keveh was swept away to join the others standing beside the fighting ring.

“Now, my sun, you may go,” his mother told him.

Claude smiled at her, his grin a smaller version of her own, and slipped from the dais. He weaved his way through the assembled nobles, many distracted by fighting, gambling, drinking, dancing, or some variation of all four. His people certain did know how to throw a party.

It didn’t take him long before he caught sight of Byleth’s teal hair, all done up in her pretty ribbons. Claude smirked as he began covering the distance to her, the noise of the crowd masking the sound of his approach. When she glanced over her shoulder, perhaps by chance or some supernatural sense Claude did not know she possessed, he ducked behind the legs of taller warriors. When they moved on, Claude cursed under his breath, seeing that Byleth had moved as well. Now he would have to find her all over again.

A tug at his head scarf yanked Claude’s head to the side. “Hey!” he shouted, eyes going wide as he was turned to stare at Byleth.

“Nader needs to work on your stealth skills,” she told him all too calmly.

“Or you just have unnatural powers you’re hiding from everyone,” Claude countered, hands flying to his head to fix the scarf. “And Nader is the last person to teach anyone anything about stealth.”

Byleth blinked at him, as if mulling over his words. It was a look Claude had grown used to whenever he talked to her. “I don’t think I do,” she said eventually.

Claude stared right back at her before shaking his head. She certainly was strange, but that didn’t matter right now. “Come on, I want to show you something.” He grabbed her hand, giving Byleth no chance to argue as they started back through the crowd.

They were at the edge of the terrace when a disgusted shout drew the attention of everyone in the immediate area. Claude grinned when he saw just who was throwing up the fuss. Basir was one of his father’s most prestigious generals, and the most talented when it came to naval warfare. He was responsible for defending Almyra’s northern coast.

And Keveh had just thrown up all over his shoes. Basir looked at the boy in disgust, cursing again when he noticed sick on the hems of his pants as well. Keveh, for his part, looked torn between mortified and as if he would be sick again. In fact…

Claude bit his lip to hide his laughter as Keveh choked again, vomit spilling from between his fingers as he tried to hold it back, only to succeed in getting more of the disgusting substance on the general.

“Did you have anything to do with that?” Byleth asked softly.

Claude shrugged his shoulders, but Byleth looked far from convinced. “You told me to learn how to survive. Fighting can only take me so far.”

Byleth studied him for a long moment, that look that made it seem as if she were reading his soul. He theorized it was that look that made so many people uncomfortable around her. But Byleth simply nodded after a moment. “Smart.”

His heart leapt at the compliment, and more words spilled out of him before he could stop them. “I started reading one of the healer’s books on herbs. Most of the uses make no sense to me, but each entry comes with warnings.”

“And so you used those warnings to make something to upset Keveh’s stomach.”

“Yeah. I think Goli knows,” Claude said, naming his father’s spymaster. “I asked her a couple questions about dosage, but she won’t say anything.”

“Unless it’s too your father,” Byleth pointed out.

Claude waved it off. “If she mentions it to him, I can handle that. My uncle is giving him so much trouble lately, he’s probably glad Keveh just embarrassed their family. But that’s not what I wanted to show you. Come on.” He grabbed her hand again and dragged her away from the party.

He led her to a sitting room, one reserved only for the royal family and their invited guests. Sitting in the middle of the room upon a plush cushion, was a large white egg. “It’s my father’s present to me,” Claude explained. “It’s a white wyvern egg.”

“It’s large,” Byleth observed. “Normal wyvern eggs are half this size.”

“Have you not seen my father’s wyvern?” Claude asked, continuing when Byleth shook her head. “He’s massive. I’ll show him to you sometime. But this one is mine.” He reached out and touched the shell fondly, brushing his fingers against the rough surface. “I almost didn’t think he’d give me one.”

“Why not? You’ve worked very hard lately,” Byleth pointed out. She reached up a hand to touch the egg as well, pausing until Claude nodded his approval.

“Only kings have white wyverns,” Claude explained, his voice dropping to a whisper.

“Do you want to be king?”

Claude blinked at her, stunned. No one had ever asked him that before. There never seemed as if he had a choice in the matter. He would become his father’s successor, or he....well, if he didn’t it was most likely because he was dead or in hiding. Claude did not like either of those options. But, did he want to be king?

Before he could answer, the egg rocked beneath their hands, a small crack forming in its surface. Both children yanked back their hands, eyes going wide as the crack got bigger. “It wasn’t supposed to hatch for a few more days!” Claude said softly, watching in awe as a piece of shell fell away.

“I guess it takes after its master in the surprise category then.”

They sat together in silence upon an intricately woven rug after that, watching the slow process of the baby wyvern working its way out of the shell. There were flashes of white, and tiny ‘meep’ing noises as it worked its way free. He was so eager to meet his wyvern (his wyvern!), but Byleth’s presence beside him kept him from going to the egg and just ripping the shell away himself. His pedar had told him that it was something the wyvern had to do itself in order to build up its strength to survive.

“Claude! We’ve been looking everywhere for you!” his mother’s voice chastised, cutting through the silence.

Both children’s head whipped toward her, Claude managing a somewhat guilty expression. “Sorry, maman,” Claude said. Despite the limited time he had spent with Byleth, he still felt comfortable enough to use an informal title with his mother in front of her. His mother, however, did not seem to think the same if the way her brows raised were anything to go by. “The egg started to hatch,” he hurried to explain, drawing her attention to something else entirely.

Odette’s gaze went to the wyvern egg, eyes melting at the sight of the almost freed creature within. She swept down to sit behind them, holding both children close as she joined their viewing. Byleth looked startled for the briefest of moments before settling herself at Odette’s side.

“Well, I guess this is a worthwhile excuse for missing your own party. The hatching of your wyvern is a very important moment, my sun.”

Claude loved when his mother was like this, when in the privacy of their own family she slipped off the mantle of queen and allowed herself to smile. She spoke to them of stories, telling a slightly different tale of the constellation of the wyvern than Claude’s tutors gave. Her earlier moment of disapproval at Byleth’s presence seemed almost nonexistent, making Claude wonder if he had imagined the whole thing.

The door opened again, and Claude glanced over to see his pedar and Nader silently enter the room. Taking in the scene, they seemed content not to interrupt the queen’s story, and found their own comfortable places to sit.

The wyvern finally broke free from its shell, tumbling out with a loud cry. Claude rushed from his mother’s embrace to sweep the tiny thing up in his arms. It cried again, happily this time, as it snuggled against Claude’s chest. It tried to burrow into his shirt, seeking the warmth it had enjoyed inside its shell. Claude laughed as its tiny claws tickled his skin, turning to beam at his parents and friends.

Mahtab nodded to his son, and Claude found himself blinking back tears at the simple gesture of approval. “Very good. He has imprinted on you. Now, it will be your responsibility to raise him until he is ready to join you in your training. He will be your companion in battle, so you must treat him well.”

“I will, pedar,” Claude promised, his voice coming out softer than he would have liked.

Byleth once more reached out her hand, silently asking Claude’s approval before she attempted to touch the baby wyvern. “Careful,” Claude said, shifting it slightly and causing the dozing creature to make a noise of disapproval.

Byleth nodded slowly, holding her fingers in front of the creature's nose. It sniffed at her uncertainly, but when Claude took her hand and gently placed it against the top of the wyvern’s head, it seemed content enough. As it curled up again, purring happily at the attention, the corners of Byleth’s lips turned upward ever so slightly.

Nader joined his friend at the open window, looking out over a slow moving city. Many of the citizens were still in bed, nursing hangovers from yesterday’s festivities. Mahtab did not look up before he spoke, recognizing Nader’s loud footfalls.

“It seems my son is getting on rather well with your ward.”

Nader paused, every instinct telling him he was walking into an ambush. “Can you blame him?” Nader asked. He tried to pick his words carefully, but politics were never his forte. “He’s young. He needs someone at his side.”

“Did you not see him last night? He’s latched onto her.” Mahtab’s voice quivered ever so slightly. Nader caught it only because he had known the other man for so long. It made Nader pause. His king was afraid.

“She might be good for him.” Nader paused, grabbing two cups from the table set up with refreshments behind the king, pouring them both a generous amount of chilled fruit juice. He practically forced a cup into Mahtab’s hands. “Byleth isn’t there problem here, is she?”

Mahtab took a deep breath, taking a sip of juice as Nader waited for his friend to gather his thoughts. “She’s part of it, but not all. I’m glad Claude has a friend, I am,” Mahtab said, sounding more like he was trying to convince himself rather than Nader. “But I’m worried her closeness will have...consequences. My brother is becoming more of a problem each day. I’m worried he’ll use Claude’s connection with Byleth against us.”

“Anyone with half a mind will dismiss that completely. Claude is still a child.”

“A child possibly being influenced by another woman from Fódlan, just like his father,” Mahtab snapped. Nader noticed the bags under his friend’s eyes, and silently wondered when the last time the king had actually slept.

“She’s a child too!” Nader protested.

“It doesn’t matter,” Mahtab protested. “Those who wish me ill because I chose Odette will simply use it as another excuse.”

Nader rested a hand on Mahtab’s shoulder, and the other man let his shoulders slump, allowing himself to show how his burdens affected him for once. It only made Nader more worried about Mahtab’s health. As soon as he was done here, he was going to go straight to Odette and work with her on getting the king some rest.

“And I’m worried that if she remains at his side, Rhea will find out about her. I don’t want that - that creature to come after my son,” Mahtab admitted. “We could lose her so fast, and if Claude is attached to her…”

Nader’s hand tightened on his cup, the metal bending under his strength. “Over my dead body,” he growled. “I’m not going to give her up so easily. Rhea and Jeralt will have to fight me if they want to take her away.”

Mahtab relaxed for a moment before he fully processed Nader’s words. “Jeralt? Is he still looking for her?”

“There have been reports,” Nader said slowly, “of Jeralt and his Blades near the Throat. They’ve been asking questions about a baby with blue eyes and hair. Goli has planted some false leads, but it seems they are still operating out of Alliance territory. I don’t think he’ll ever truly give up trying to find her.”

They stared out over the city, Mahtab swirling his juice absentmindedly. “Perhaps we should have changed her name after all. Would have made it easier to hide her,” Nader said softly before draining his cup.

Mahtab shook his head. “I couldn’t do that. It’s the one thing Tess gave to her daughter. I couldn’t take that away from her. No, we’ll come up with something else.”

Well, that was something he did not quite know how to argue against.

Nader remained silent, watching as a smile started to form on the king’s lips. He followed his friend’s gaze, watching as Claude climbed a garden wall. His shirt moved, the white head of his wyvern poking through before he coaxed it back down. He jumped easily off the wall, and rushed off in the direction of Nader’s estate, unburdened by the fear of the future that plagued Nader and Mahtab’s morning.

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You know how last chapter I said I didn't like writing kids? Well, scratch that. Baby Claude is adorable. And so is Byleth with her freaking cute ribbons. Damn, I wish I could draw because that would be up so fast.

#fire emblem #fire emblem three houses #claudeth #claude x byleth #claudeleth #my fic #fanfic #the weight of a name #alternate universe #childhood friends

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robert-c · 4 years

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The Truth About Capitalism and Free Markets

When everyone can compete in a free market, then the best products and services will prevail at the best prices for the consumer. Furthermore, the chance to invent a whole new market and to profit hugely from it spurs people to create new products and services never before thought of, enriching all of our lives. Rather than a society with hereditary classes, our free market system allows anyone with determination and hard work to achieve riches. These are the myths about Capitalism and Free Markets. And sometimes, to some extent, they are true.

However, more often they are empty promises. You see, the primary proponents of free market capitalism, the capitalists themselves, don’t really believe in it at all. They believe in monopoly. They believe that once they have dominated a marketplace, no one should be able to challenge them and their dominance. While we like to believe that the one who builds the “better mousetrap” will be the one who profits, in reality the actual inventor rarely reaps the greatest rewards. Sometimes it’s because the bigger maker of mousetraps buys them out and takes it over, or buries it altogether if it challenges too much of the supply chain they have built up. Other times it’s a matter of “slicker” negotiations and clever accounting to ensure that the other players needed in bringing a new idea to market get a disproportionate share. It would be a legal nightmare to even attempt to regulate such transactions, and that’s not the point. I bring that up just to illustrate that one of the major “selling” points for totally free markets is more myth and illusion than fact.

Another myth is that making money, being successful in business, is some sort of testament to your (take your pick): a) intelligence, b) hard work, c) being a generally superior and deserving person, or d) all of the above. Some people do become successful with a “better mousetrap”, but others because they are more ruthless, or even willing to engage in fraud. And some are just lucky, like the fellow who discovers that there is oil under his land. Others just managed to acquire a large supply of a suddenly high demand product, like hand sanitizer at the beginning of a pandemic and attempt to resell it at inflated prices. Having become rich is proof of nothing but being rich.

This attitude that anyone can become as rich as they deserve has an insidious side effect; if you are poor, you must deserve it. It is a convenient piece of rationalization for being greedy and uncharitable.

The free market myth is that the better product or service will ultimately prevail. That value (quality versus cost) will win the consumers over. Let’s take a closer look at that myth. Every shopper knows that they have different standards of quality for different products. Some of it is personal taste, some of it is how important the item is to us. Let’s say for T-shirts I’m going to wear to work in my garage I don’t care if the seams aren’t as tightly sewn, or the material is thin. Chances are they’ll be covered in stains long before the quality of the stitching gives out. On the other hand I’m very picky about the shirts I wear to work, and I want the best quality so that they will last long and look good. Such differences in individual choices should make room for a variety of goods and various values to suit individual needs and tastes. It should be easy to see that there isn’t a huge range of quality for all goods and services and that the upper end of quality doesn’t change without innovation. Now this is where the free market system is supposed to excel. However, it is easier, and often more profitable, to cut costs, than to improve quality. This is the habit of most well established businesses; it is the low cost, low risk option. Of course cost cutting often ends up affecting minimum quality and even safety issues. Ever heard a boss say something like “come on, surely a 10% cut can’t be that big a deal?” If the safety of the product isn’t obviously compromised to the point that an ordinary consumer could tell, then it would seem that some regulation is needed to prevent such behavior. And thus we have our first need to abandon the idea of a “totally” free market system.

Regulation is needed to protect the public from dangerous products and outright falsehoods in the advertising and selling of these products. As for innovation, the actual inventors are often the ones NOT motivated by money and rarely reap the rewards of their inventions. But then that is a whole other story.

The free market is supposed to mean one that isn’t subject to coercion, one that allows competition. However, in order to preserve competition some regulation is needed. So let’s assume that Bob’s Business Machines makes computer chips. Barry has an idea for a different kind of computer chip architecture. It will be faster, and hold more information than Bob’s. But of course, it is just an idea right now. Barry needs money to develop a prototype and then money for manufacturing, marketing etc. Bob, cunning businessman that he is, has significant business relationships with all of the major banks; the very ones (the only ones) who are in a position to loan Barry the kind of money he will need. Of course the banks are smart – they know that Barry’s chip (if it lives up to its potential) is a serious challenger to Bob’s. They also know that if they loan Barry any money, Bob could pull all of his business and leave the bank in terrible shape. So unless there is some regulation prohibiting acting in restraint of trade, Bob might not even have to ask the banks to refuse Barry a loan. And as simple as that laissez faire capitalism has been able to stifle competition.

Regulation is needed to keep the current rich and powerful from barring new entries into the “club”. The entire idea of innovation being encouraged by the free enterprise system is in question if there is no regulation. Can anyone honestly say that the railroads would have embraced an interstate highway system? In fact they tried to oppose it. Or the development of airlines? NO. Given their own self-interest we’d still be riding coast to coast in days long journeys in rail cars. Pure, unregulated capitalism creates markets controlled by the largest companies, who will systematically strangle any attempt at competition or innovation that might jeopardize their current stranglehold on their market. Hard core defenders of laissez faire capitalism would argue that the railroads, with their enormous profits from the 19th and early 20th centuries could have wisely invested in the airlines and therefor had a major stake in the future as well. Yes, they certainly could have, but none did. Because making and keeping money isn’t a necessarily associated with visionary intelligence. In fact, it is always easier and lower risk to stick with what you know.

And yet we’ve been propagandized for decades with the idea that deregulation is somehow good for the consumer and will lead to more choices and lower prices. How has that really worked out? Can anyone honestly say that they feel they’ve gotten a fair deal (let alone a good one) on airlines lately? Or your cable provider? Or your phone service? Does it feel like you have to be constantly changing to take advantage of the “new customer” special bundles? Of course they know that most of us have neither the time nor the energy to wade through all of the change over business until we are very fed up, which is long after the companies have recouped any discounts they gave us to switch.

Then there are businesses, which by their very nature, have a profit motive disincentive to treat their customers fairly without regulation. I referenced this somewhat in the article on health care reform. Insurance, principally health, but also any other insurance as well; auto, home, etc. All insurance offers a product (“coverage”); essentially a promise to pay for certain losses you might experience, which may be more or less difficult to precisely define. The problem is that the free market competition doesn’t exactly produce the results we might hope for. In selling apples, computer chips or mousetraps, the consuming public has a pretty good way to judge quality and therefor value as the ratio of quality to price. But the details of coverage are hard to assess, and even with comparing identical claims paid (if you could even find two exactly alike), that is only one instance of the coverage in action; maybe it’s representative, maybe not. So the consumer has limited information to rely on in picking between the companies.

Add to this that the insurance companies’ business model is to collect more premiums than they pay out in claims. Now imagine what your reaction would be to a seller of apples, computer chips or mousetraps whose business model was to charge for more items than they delivered. Clearly regulation is needed in this industry, and even more so when the coverage is broad and gray in definition, like health care. There is a definite financial incentive to look for ways to reduce claims payout and/or rate up consumers given that competition is not as clear and simple to compare.

The “champions” of free enterprise often speak of regulations as stifling innovation and adding costs to products. Certainly there are some poorly drafted regulations that should be revised. But to cast all regulation as unnecessary is more than an overstatement, it is a lie that serves only the worst actors in corporate America. Good regulation keeps the field open for new competition to arise and prevents established businesses from increasing their profits by cutting costs and/or by cutting safety to their consumers and employees.

This would be a good time to recall that virtually every regulation business’ must submit to originated because of an abuse perpetrated by businesses. Companies who didn’t tell their employees about the dangers of the chemicals they were working with, and did not provide safety gear or adequate training. Employers trying to classify employees as “contractors” so they can avoid paying for overtime, or the employer’s share of Social Security taxes. The list could fill an entire volume.

Lastly, as good as capitalism is (in its well regulated form) it is inherently a short term view of the world. From the side of the investor, capitalism looks like an efficient system for allocating financial resources. Yet the short term high return investment always seems to garner more of the resources than the long term high return, especially if that high return isn’t payable until the end of the long term. It appears (and actually may be) much more risky.

Yet all of the great advances in our economy and technology seem to be built on the bedrock of some groundbreaking infrastructure and work of large public (government) projects. The Interstate highway system, happily used by trucking companies to bring goods across country, and vacationers alike, might have been decades later in the coming (if at all) but for the persistence of the Eisenhower administration. The US space race with the Soviet Union laid the ground work for computers and private satellite companies and the boon to communication that has created. In both cases, nearly everyone knew this was the direction the future must take, but individually it represented too large an investment to make. There are many more examples, but surely it can be seen that these essential platforms need to be built for the general good. Such visionary projects typically can’t get individual funding, but with a little from all, we all can benefit much more later, and still maintain an essentially capitalist system.

“Pure” capitalism is, unfortunately, by its very nature a short term, short sighted engine, whose principal accomplishment is the maintenance of the wealth of the first group of rich and powerful people. Regulated capitalism IS the only way to have a market place where new ideas, and competitive products can be freely introduced.

Let’s stop buying the myth that “privatization” is automatically good, and government regulation automatically bad. These are more complex issues than the simplistic black and white thinking we’ve been encouraged to hold on to.

#free markets #capitalism #regulation #economy

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hellyeahomeland · 4 years

Photo

“Two Minutes” | Directed by Tucker Gates, Cinematography by Giorgio Scali

[This week remained hectic as heck so we are keeping the more casual format. --Sara]

Sara: Opening (or closing) with a Carrie mirror shot is classic Homeland and I love to see it! She looks very tired. I hope when the series is over, Carrie takes a long nap. But not, y’know, the LONG long nap.

Gail: If this shot is a look into her current emotional state, which I think it most definitely is, she looks tired but determined. She hasn’t been out of that rehab center for very long, you have to wonder how her medications are working, because it’s clear she isn’t getting enough sleep. But good God--Claire Danes is gorgeous!

Gail: When I watched this scene I had a few realizations. At first I thought the red thing in front of the water glass was a pill but when I zoomed in it looks like floss. Then it occurred to me that we haven’t seen Carrie taking her meds or listening to jazz this season. This version of Carrie seems very stripped down (no pun intended). No mentions of seeing her family or FaceTiming Franny either. I don’t know what any of this means yet, but pointing it out for future context.

Sara: Floss? Whoulda thunk? I love this very obviously photoshopped (or whatever the video equivalent of that is… CGI?) scene of “mourners” gathering outside the White House.

Gail: I loved this opening shot of Max with his back to us... much like the donkey at the end of the episode, he has the flight recorder strapped to his back via a backpack and he treks uphill. I love the pop of color from the flight recorder and Max’s backpack in this desert-like scene. The importance in this shot is all about knowing where the flight recorder is and less about who is carrying it. Although I’m sure everyone joined us in a sign of relief to see Max still alive!

Sara: Chekhov’s flight recorder! I’m thinking of other significant objects on the show (like Brody’s vest), but none have gotten the attention that this dang flight recorder is getting. Also, Max writing his name in sharpie on his backpack is big younger child energy.

Sara: As someone who wears glasses, I really admire that Max is always, without fail, wearing his. No matter how sweaty he is. I love you, Max!

Gail: It is very interesting how every time Saul is kidnapped, his glasses are taken from him, but Max gets to keep his (for now at least?). Maybe there is a metaphor there about how Max isn’t losing sight of the bigger picture?

Sara: IJLTP, and it’s the first of a few POV shots this week. Max really is like an audience stand-in and this makes it even more literal.

Gail: IJLTP too! Such a great shot.

Sara: They had a shot very similar to this in Keane’s speech from “Paean to the People.” I really love how you can see how very manufactured this all is. Not that any of us need to be reminded of that…

Gail: The focus of this scene starts with the people behind it. I love that, because while the President is what the people are watching, he’s getting his cues and information from everyone else. In “Chalk One Up” we saw the theater of the peace announcement. Here we see the theater of the new president making his first speech. It’s all just words until the intentions behind them are realized.

Sara: Some of the keywords here:

Bust

MARTA (the “mass” “transit” “system” in Atlanta… where my Atlanta homies at?)

Body scanner

Narcos

Influenza

Plot

Gail: If these keywords are a part of the search for Max, shouldn’t his name be on it? Or American? No wonder Carrie was pissed! Get with it, Lonnie!

Sara: I know this is a stunt double, but it’s still meant to be Carrie, and Carrie riding this motorcycle so awesomely is one of the most badass things about her. We have no choice but to stan.

Gail: What a cool payoff to all of the scenes and allusions of Carrie leaving the station undetected. Girl is resourceful, no doubt.

Sara: Are these wide shots so that Costa Ronin, who is apparently nine feet tall, and Claire Danes would both fit in the frame? Also, “I just like how he leans.”

Gail: I think the shot might be indicative of their power dynamic. But I agree with you, Yevgeny’s consistent nonchalance is such a great character detail.

Gail: Interesting that by the end of their scene, Yevgeny sits down, making his body language less threatening. He enjoys these games with Carrie a little too much for my liking.

Sara: That smirk…

Sara: The framing here is really interesting. G’ulom sitting casually while Saul and Scott Ryan stand stick straight, almost obediently (ironically), is really striking. G’ulom has these almost angelic white curtains behind him while Saul and Scott are cloaked in shadows.

Gail: This feels different from Yevgeny’s casual nonchalance. I get the sense here that G’ulom is sitting out of lack of respect for the people standing before him. G’ulom turned his back on platitudes the second he turned his back on Ambassador Gaeto in the opening of “Chalk Two Down.” He only stands at the end of the scene to exert his power over Saul and General Ryan.

Sara: And then this shot, which is incredible. Centering G’ulom in the frame really emphasizes his power.

Gail: Such a great POV shot to see Saul and General Ryan’s reactions to G’ulom.

Sara: ...and I love the specific choreography of Saul and Scott both exiting so that their bodies are hidden behind G’ulom. I feel like Homeland doesn’t do shots this stylized that often so when they do it feels all the more impactful.

Gail: I find it so interesting that G’ulom has turned his back on the audience too.

Gail: I love the glimpses of the relationship between Mike and Jenna. Is this how Saul and Carrie started out?

Sara: Oof, ya think? I didn’t even think about their relationship in that context (maybe because the age gap is not as great) but now that you say it... I find it a really interesting way to shoot this, almost like we’re eavesdropping on them eavesdropping on Carrie. I love when Homeland returns to themes of surveillance.

Sara: Why onions? Because we’re peeling the layers of this story. (I’ll see myself out.)

Gail: OMG, Sara! You are right, they are onions! I’m ashamed to say I thought they were beets. (Thanks, Dwight.)

Gail: When Fibrooz, Max’s captor, reaches for Max’s wrist in this scene, I thought he was going to unlock the cuffs. Doesn’t bode well for Max that this guy is all about making a buck.

Sara: Major Carrie in “Why Is This Night Different?” vibes. The framing is almost identical. This continues some of the role reversal of Carrie and Max this year.

Gail: I love the details in this shot and the one of the market shelves. It looks like a random assortment of remotes and calculators and jars on shelves, but it’s actually very organized.

Sara: Are they selling remote controls without the TVs that they control?

Sara: Chekhov’s flight recorder strikes again! Sorry, I have nothing intelligent to say about the device of this damn flight recorder because I find it so freaking hilarious.

Gail: I love how we are seeing the journey of this flight recorder and all of the different people who are getting their hands on it.

Sara: This show is really making me feel sympathy for Haqqani, which is completely wild. Look how he’s softly dressed in the light here. Total character rehab happening this season on all fronts. Numan Acar has infused him with a real weariness and softness that’s added so many new layers to what was once just a classic villain.

Gail: I agree, Numan Acar has done an outstanding job with his portrayal of Haqqani. The writers approach to softening him has paired wonderfully with the direction of the show and has led to great shots like this of Haqqani, the man and father.

Sara: Gail pointed this out on the podcast. As the conversation progresses and Hayes veers off script he literally turns away from Linus. Subtle but effective. The use of body language this season has been pretty great.

Gail: The choreography has been fantastic, I agree. Wellington has ditched his suit and has rolled up his sleeves. His calm demeanor and thoughtful counsel that we’ve come to know about him is clearly about to be tested.

Sara: IJLTP.

Gail: When one door (seemingly) closes, another one opens.

Sara: IJLTP.

Gail: The blue lights behind her are gorgeous.

Sara: “CATASTROPHIC ERROR”

Gail: The details! And much foreshadowing!

Gail: Things start out friendly and at a distance and then we rapidly move into tighter shots as Mike reveals to Saul just how bad the optics are for Carrie right now.

Sara: This is such a lovely shot and I love all Homeland rooftop scenes. Sometimes Carrie’s smoking, sometimes she’s having a panic attack, sometimes both things are happening at once. See how I turned this into a thing about Carrie?

Sara: I don’t know if this is a new choice by Claire, but recently I feel like Carrie has a habit of literally turning away from difficult conversations. Anyway, this Carrie/Saul scene was incredible.

Gail: There has been a subtle shift to her personality this season. It must be hard to face her new reality and looking at Saul has to be one of the more daunting reminders of what it used to be.

Sara: It struck my while watching (and rewatching and rewatching) that Saul is literally the only human on the planet who could have this conversation with her. He knows when to push and when to relent, when to raise his voice and when to lower it. He really does manage her. Likewise, she knows when and where to strike. It goes without saying that Claire and Mandy are incredible here. This scene is really a testament to how invaluable the foundation of watching two characters (and actors) develop a relationship, in real time, over ten years, is for the audience. It massively enhances the performances and the dramatic weight of the scene.

Gail: Sara!! You are buying into my Ivan/Saul convo theory (from “A False Glimmer”)!! I agree with everything you said and would add that with all of that being true, Saul can’t possibly think Carrie is getting on that plane back to rehab willingly.

(Sara: Guess he should have gotten the handcuffs then...)

Gail: What a stunning shot. I gasped when I saw it. Not because Haqqani was turning himself in. That I expected. But how Carrie witnesses it and reacts to it. The last time Carrie was that close to Haqqani she almost shot him. I Khan’t believe how much things have changed.

Sara: Gail, khan you not? Anyway, I agree, it’s a stunning shot. I can’t properly articulate why I love it so much so: IJLTP.

Sara: I know the show did something like when Carrie woke up from being drugged in “Why Is This Night Different?” I won’t check, because I don’t care to revisit that episode ever again. Gail, can you verify?

Gail: They did and it was eerily similar. Big difference though: Quinn was saving/protecting Carrie and Fibrooz is most definitely not doing the same for Max.

Gail: The bookend to the opening scene with Max. The flight recorder has made its way into another backpack, heading up a mountain. I LOVE the color in this scene and how the flight recorder is on a JOURNEY.

Sara: Quite possibly the funniest scene on this show ever.

Gail: This spy is heading into the cold...

Sara: “Carrie, no!” … “CARRIE YES!”

Gail: Yevgeny’s (partly faux) nonchalance (he sneaks a peek!) and Carrie’s focused stare say so much without saying a word. No looking out the window for Carrie this time, we know where her mind is at.

Sara: Carrie stares straight ahead. Yevgeny can’t help but turn and look at her. Truly iconic. I know I say that about everything, but this really is I-CON-IC!

#homeland #homelandedit #in the director's chair #two minutes #*#by: sara #by: gail

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jojotichakorn · 5 years

Text

so guess who watched 2moons2 and loved it despite thinking they would hate it for a very long time ? it’s me babeeey !

anyways , i know a good few people feel the same way i did about it , so i wanna make my case about why this version is actually as good as ( better than ? ) the og 2moons .

before we start with the serious stuff , here’s an actual photo of me watching this series :

now , ‘tis time - my huge ass review / not really review / thoughts on everything i’ve seen so far :

notes on the overall thoughts about the show and its vibe :

for the first time in forever a bl is actually not trying to stretch out for seasons knowing how unlikely it is for them to get a continuation ( *cough* the og 2moons but also lbc *cough* ) . with 2moons2 , they’re actually putting the whole story all in one , and you know what ? it’s better this way ! we somehow barely lose anything yet everything happens quicker and the pacing feels so much better . plus , it means we’re getting all the couples and all the best moments from the novel and don’t have to worry about anything ;

the overall script is better , which is why this version is better ( at least in that regard ) – i’m sorry , that’s just how it be . instead of simply translating whatever’s happening in the novel to screen – this version actually bends the story in ways that simply fit a show adaptation better . you can see that everyone involved actually gives a shit and that’s a nice change .

notes on the actors and the acting :

the actor who plays phana is actually really good and he manages to make pha an actually likable character, thanks to both the script and the acting itself – he sort of mixes pha’s obliviousness and initial indecisiveness with his general demeanor and makes all of it rather charming ;

the actor who plays yo is doing a good job , especially with the emotional scenes , though i would say to me personally he just doesn’t look “ cutesy “ enough – there was something that always picked bass apart from everyone else in the og show and i just don’t see enough of that here ;

ming still manages to have everything i’ve always loved about him and remains my favorite character even without kimmon’s face , so i suppose that’s both a testament to my being honest in who i like and unaffected by kimmon’s charms and the fact that the actor playing ming is fucking nailing it ;

kit was probably the one I was most nervous about ( and i’d say he’s generally a fan-favorite ) , but he ended up being really great as well . the thing i love the most about what the actor’s doing is probably all the subtle movements and glances he does - kit is a very reserved person , but he feels things deeply at the same time and that’s hard to show on screen , but the actor somehow manages to do it anyway ;

forth suffered the biggest change out of all of them , I think – he feels like way more of a bad boy here . if in the og 2moons we had forth that only looked like a bad boy , but was actually a known softy , here we seem to get a more popular trope of forth having an actual demeanor of a bad boy which has a lil’ heart of gold and a lot of kindness hidden behind . i’m not sure if it was the actor’s choice or if it was a collective decision and I’m not yet sure if I prefer it to the og version , but we’ll see . regardless , generally forth is amazing too ;

can’t say much about the actor who plays beam just yet , because we haven’t seen too much of him , but he’s slowly starting to shine through and we’re actually getting forthbeam this week , so he’s going to show himself in his full glory there - from what i’ve seen of him so far , i’m sure he’s gonna be awesome too .

notes on the characters and characterization :

there is suddenly a lot of character to phana and you actually start liking the guy , despite some things he does , and I think it’s a very collective effort – starting from the fact that we have an actual actor playing the character now ( instead of a clown ) and ending with how much the script tries to introduce him in a very different way as opposed to the og series ;

speaking of how different they introduce phana - the way they gradually introduced his pov is fucking fantastic . we start with them already dropping hints here and there in the first episode and the farther we go , the more we see of pha’s real self and his true feelings . I feel like that’s a significantly better decision than hiding his true intentions from us for almost the entirety of the show , making us think he’s a complete asshole and then doing a very obvious 180 which just dumps all of phana’s pov on our heads pretty much out of nowhere ;

ming provides most of the comedic elements in the show ( the ones that are actually funny that is ) – his facial expressions whenever anything phayo related happens are worth all the praise and he’s generally exactly the kind of life of the party that he’s supposed to be ;

because of quicker pacing and better writing , beam ends up being a far more fleshed out character from the start and I appreciate it . he’s less phana’s friend and more his own character now and it’s great .

notes on the couples and the romance :

the kisses are good . period . that’s all I have to say . they’re all fucking great . good job y’all , you really went through with that one ;

phayo are no longer boring and dragged out . they’re actually fucking cute and I enjoy their scenes instead of sitting there thinking “ where iss mingkiiit “ ;

as much as it pains me to say it ( and we all know how much I love kimmon and copgi ) but the contrast between mingkit in the new version is more loyal to the novel – ming is a tad bigger and generally more masc than kit and that’s how it was supposed to be .

notes on little details i couldn’t help but notice :

tiny nods to future couples are all over the place from the very beginning , which I appreciate – it’s not that they explicitly state anything , it’s just nice to hear forth briefly asking whether beam is gonna be at the party or to see kit lowkey staring at ming for a bit ;

the first scene with yo and forth is ten times better , in my personal opinion – it feels a tad more realistic and is just short enough to make sense ;

the first scene with kit and yo is a bit better too – there’s just something about them slowly recognizing each other that seems more convincing , like i can actually imagine it happening ;

all the “ omg you got way hotter !! “ moments always bothered me so much because … who fucking talks like that ? in this version , they’ve replaced it with a more tame “ you are so grown up and look so different now “ sort of thing , which is way more believable ( especially for someone who hadn’t seen their friend for a year and then almost died after seeing him again , because puberty hit him like a fucking train on full speed and he got way different - it happens y’all , saw it with my own two eyes ) ;

they gave forth an actual motorcycle ! and he uses it ! all the time !

pha smiling whenever yo calls for him but changing his expression as soon as he turns around to actually look at him is just one of those super nice touches that shows this version as being more careful and caring with its characters and the plot ;

there’s actual fucking symbolism in this thing ? which is ? wow . the entire dance around the meal mingkit had on their “ date “ after ming won the competition and became the moon was 110% representative of what both of them felt towards each other ( and I mean every little gesture , every word – all of it ) and it’s fucking beautiful ;

small details of the show are mostly good – it doesn’t really matter much , but when you see someone opening their phone and looking through their recent calls , it always takes you out of the show to just see a bunch of generic names listed or – gods forbid – nothing at all . 2moons2 doesn’t have that problem and it’s a nice change .

notes on some not-so-good and not-very-good things ( in my personal opinion , of course ) :

in the best traditions of the og 2moons and the entire bl genre , there is enough problematic moments for us all to collectively sigh and roll our eyes – not necessarily a complaint towards 2moons2 itself , just kinda sad it couldn’t do better already knowing what a lot of people didn’t like ;

the zoom-ins are a very interesting artistic choice , but as a person who perhaps watched too many soaps in their life , I’m kind of used to it ( besides anything that can remind me of toris is hands down a good thing ) ;

yo talks way too slowly – I understand he’s a super shy character but for fuck’s sake just the pauses between each pair of words he makes take up half the episode and it can get real annoying real fast ;

all product placement aside , the kitkat moments in the og 2moons were always the cutest and ming saying “ i love kitkat “ while eating the chocolate bar and staring at kit was always an iconic moment and one of my personal favorites across all bls so it’s kind of sad to see that entire lil’ quirk to be completely gone from the show and the boys’ dynamic ;

the entire phayo reconciliation scene seems confusing and way too rushed for me - i immediately started filling in the blanks with what i know from the og 2moons and that’s just not something that’s supposed to happen , especially with such a substantial scene ;

way too much of that usual “ lady gang “ we see in so many bls which is a shitty trope , as well as a girl who stalks the gay couple ‘cause she has nothing better to do - we all fucking hate those in the first place , but especially when there’s too much of them . i’d rather see another mingkit scene , thank you very much .

this is long enough already , so i’m gonna go ahead and wrap it up . i was being as honest as i could in all accounts and though there is some things i don’t like about this version too - in general , as well as in comparison to the previous one , i think it wins with very little doubt . and i certainly recommend everyone who was putting it off to watch it , because it’s absolutely worth it . it’s seriously very good , i pinky promise !

#2moons2 #2moons #2 moons #archer speaks #archer reviews

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soveryanon · 5 years

Text

Reviewing time for MAG158 TT_____TT

- Saying the most obvious and unspecific first: this was a very packed, very dense episode which managed to cram so much in just 20 minutes? I’ve relistened to it many times, and I still feel like I’m coming out of it breathless and reeling every time. So many things happening, about the past, about the present, about possible future implications? So many things finally exploding in our faces after having been introduced and/or kept as hanging threats since the beginning of the season, or earlier (Leitner had warned Jon that he had only trapped the Not!Them, not killed it), or later: Peter’s plans, Martin’s perception of the events, Elias’s agenda, what the tunnels had been hiding all along, Julia&Trevor attacking after their previous retreat, Daisy and the call of The Hunt, Jon’s worry for Martin…

The climax of each season had also been the occasion to take a look at who had been lost and how they had impacted characters: in season 1, Jon was explaining that he still wanted to know what had happened to Gertrude (MAG039: “And to top it all, I still don’t know what happened to Gertrude. Officially she’s still missing, but Elias is no help and the police were pretty clear that the wait to call her dead is just a formality. If I die, wormfood or… something else, whatever, I’m going to make damn sure the same doesn’t happen to me.”). In season 2, Jon was realising that Sasha had been dead all along, and given a probable culprit for Gertrude’s murder through Leitner’s mouth (MAG080: “And Sasha… The real one?” “Was that her name? I’m afraid she’s gone. Whatever it does to those it takes, they don’t come back. She’s dead. … Do you need a moment?” / “I believe it was Elias.” “What? Why?” “I assume he discovered we were planning to destroy the Archives.”). In season 3, Gertrude and Leitner(‘s bodies) came back to literally haunt Jon, puppetted by Stranger creatures during The Unknowing, after Nikola had toyed with Jon about Sasha:

(MAG119) NIKOLA: Oh, you caught me~ I’m… Sasha! ARCHIVIST: Shut up! NIKOLA: No~! Really, it’s me! Sasha– whatever her name was! Back from the dead, just like you wanted~! ARCHIVIST: Get away from me, or, or I swear I’ll… I’ll… […] GERTRUDE: This is your fault. ARCHIVIST: It is not! It’s not, I didn’t know, it’s not my fault you died! LEITNER: No, I suppose not. Me, on the other hand…

MAG158 opened hostilities right away: Peter mentioned Tim (and got immediately shut down by Martin), was using a Leitner book covered in the man’s blood, and then proceeded to free the Not!Them, who was still using its voice from the Not!Sasha time (so maybe a bit of that physical appearance, too?), while Jon, Basira and Daisy got to listen to what appeared to be a recording of Elias and Gertrude’s last interaction and the latter’s murder:

(MAG158) PETER: [INHALE] I’m sure– … what was his name? … Tim! Tim would– MARTIN: I’d really– … rather not talk about it, Peter. […] PETER: Not to mention, if they do change, well – I happen to have something that will change them back. MARTIN: … That’s a Leitner. PETER: It is! MARTIN: And the, em… the blood on it? PETER: That’s Leitner too! MARTIN: … Riiight…

[…] MARTIN: Pe–Peter? Peter, there’s a– … Peter, I think there’s something in there… PETER: Mm-mm. I’d stay quiet if I were you. [SOUND OF STONE AND BRICK SHIFTING, LOUDER] NOT!SASHA: [MUFFLED, HEAVILY DISTORTED] Jooo–ooon~! [SOUND OF STONE AND BRICK SHIFTING, LOUDER, THEN GRADUALLY STOPPING] NOT!SASHA: [HEAVILY DISTORTED] [PANTS] So you finally decided to let me out, Jon! Joooo–oooon~! … Who’s there? MARTIN: [PANICKED BREATHING]

[…] ARCHIVIST: Do you remember what happened to Sasha? BASIRA: That’s the thing that took her? ARCHIVIST: It was trapped in the tunnels, it– Martin. Something’s happening down there.

[…] GERTRUDE: I’m not really in the mood for nostalgia, Elias. You might have noticed I’m rather busy, so either shoot me or– [ONE GUNSHOT] GERTRUDE: [GASP] [BODY COLLAPSING] GERTRUDE: �� Well… there it is… I thought it would hurt more… [GUN BEING PUT AWAY] ELIAS: [SIGH] Pity.

From the start, the episode was a concentration of the people who have been lost, while on the verge of losing more (Daisy losing herself to The Hunt; Martin being wooshed into The Lonely; Jon on the verge of “drowning” while pursuing Martin). This time, it was even more destabilising that we covered events from before the beginning of the series, even though they had been open questions and recurring subjects: Elias/Jonah’s relation to the Institute, the fact that the Archival staff was bound to him/it, Gertrude’s death.

And it happened when everything was going to hell at the same time: there was such a wonderful contrast between Martin and Peter (and Elias’s)’s scenes, which were slow, gave place to words (words and steps echoing over the constant wind-like constant whispers (?) of the Panopticon), and the utter chaos reigning in the Archives, the gunshots and the screams and the mess provoked in Julia, Trevor, the Not!Them and then Daisy’s wakes…

(If I have to pinpoint moments I’m holding a bit dearer than the others, outside of Elias’s laughter (I mean, yeah, that sure happened? I might have relistened to the isolated track a few dozens of time and I still can’t believe it happened), it would be Daisy’s “Promise me.” and Martin’s “Funny. Looks like I was right the first time – it’s probably still a good way to get killed.” because both broke my heart for various reasons. I’ve always been ridiculously weak to the deep background sound that we heard during Martin’s tirade (I mostly associate it to MAG081) – it always gives an atmosphere of solemnity, of gravity, and it just matched perfectly the way Martin was explaining himself, telling his own story. … Almost giving his own statement, or testament.)

OKAY, NOW, THE MEAT OF THINGS. I know, the length of this post doesn’t give it away, but… I’ll go quicker and less rambly than usual, there was simply too much and I only got a week (minus one day bc delay) *cries* (this episode was excellent, okay).

- Gertrude’s murder! Fucking finally:

(MAG043) ARCHIVIST: Part of me worries about what I might find on these tapes, but a… bigger part of me worries that I will find nothing. This uncertainty is wearing on me. And I don’t know how much more I can take.

(MAG052) ARCHIVIST: […] No luck with any of my other leads yet. At least I have another of Gertrude’s tapes. It’s always going to be a shot in the dark with them, but… hopefully an informative one. I know the secret to her death is on one of them, it must be. I just… I hope I don’t have to hear it first-hand.

(MAG066) ARCHIVIST: Gertrude’s laptop has been rather… interesting. Unfortunately, nothing along the lines of “my_murderer.avi”, and she didn’t keep any sort of diary from what I can see.

Well, “my_murderer.wav” heard first-hand counts, right?

* In the same episode, Jon had noticed previous orders made on her computer; Leitner had told Jon that she was planning to destroy the Archives and Elias had mentioned “arson”, so yep! She had indeed tried to get rid of the problem that way:

(MAG066) ARCHIVIST: There’s also the matter of the products she was ordering. There were several online orders of petrol, lighter fluid, pesticides, and high-powered torches. They are sporadic, but notable in that she did not drive, smoke or work in pest control.

(MAG080) ELIAS: What did you want from him? LEITNER: The files. The ones you took from Gertrude. ELIAS: Planning a little light arson, are we Jurgen? LEITNER: It’s not just the Institute and you know it. They had everything she had found on the Stranger.

(MAG158) [GURGLING LIQUID] [DOOR OPENS] ELIAS: Gertrude. GERTRUDE: [SIGH] … Damn… ELIAS: Did you really think I wouldn’t notice? GERTRUDE: I’d rather hoped you’d still be hampered with all The Dark’s business. […] Shame, really; I used to be able to torch a building in half the time. [SIGH] Age catches us all. […] ELIAS: What exactly were you hoping to achieve here? Why not come at me directly instead of burning everything first? GERTRUDE: I was rather hoping the fire would occupy you while I did just that.

It sounded obvious, especially given how Elias had behaved when Martin had begun to burn statements, but it hadn’t been definitely confirmed until now. Once again, was Gertrude’s fondness for fire and explosions (the old Archives in Alexandria, The Last Feast, the plan for The Unknowing) influenced by her being bound to Agnes from The Desolation…? She seemed to favour these options a lot.

* HHHHHHHHHHHH So, the trick Gertrude had pulled was: Elias was supposed to be distracted because keeping an eye on a ritual attempt (to make sure The Dark ritual derailed okay), then grabbing his attention by setting fire to the Archives, while her real plan lay elsewhere (going down in the tunnels to reach his body and kill it).

(MAG158) GERTRUDE: I’d rather hoped you’d still be hampered with all The Dark’s business. [DOOR CLOSES] It’s their… “Grand Eclipse” at the moment, isn’t it? ELIAS: [SIGH] But I think we’ve both come to the same conclusion about that. That’s why you’re here. […] So you burn the place down, use it as cover to reach my body, and then we die together.

That’s… that was the exact same plan Martin carried out: knowing that Elias would be keeping an Eye on The Unknowing, grabbing his attention by burning statements in the Archives, while the real plan was elsewhere (Melanie stealing evidence to convict him). I’m not sure if, back then, Elias had felt like déjà-vu and planned accordingly, only pretending to get fooled (we now have confirmation that he could have left prison anytime anyway), or if he fell for it twice… well. He hadn’t fallen for it with Gertrude, but knew that The Dark wouldn’t be a real threat (while The Unknowing still was… presumably).

(… But it’s also what Elias had been doing all through season 4 with Martin, The Extinction and Jon: partially keeping Martin occupied with The Extinction, distracting him with the fact that Peter & Elias had something on the line… while the actual plan was most likely to get something out of Jon through Martin.)

* I’m so so so fond of the way Gertrude was putting emphasis on the name “Elias” as soon as he entered – she wasn’t hiding that she knew about him from the start:

(MAG158) GERTRUDE: [SIGH] Age catches us all. … Well. Almost all of us, Elias. ELIAS: You were the one so… insistent on staying human.

(And it took Jonah!Elias a while to catch on to that, when she mentioned his body. Did he know that she knew, and the only reveal was that she had understood that his old body was a weak spot?)

* Goooods, sound-wise the episode was a treat, but the nonverbal “answers” through sounds (which were directly putting pictures in mind), when Gertrude flicked her lighter and we could hear Elias cocking a gun in return?

(MAG158) ELIAS: … Quite. It… was a good plan, actually. If you hadn’t been so complacent about me keeping an eye out down here, probably would have worked. [HUFF] “Gertrude’s grand retirement”…! GERTRUDE: It still might. Just needs a little [OPENING A ZIPPO] spark, and… [COCKED GUN] GERTRUDE: I see. So you’re finally getting your hands dirty. I must really have caught you off-guard.

I love that no description was needed, just sounds perfectly carrying across what was happening, a gesture leading to another, each holding their own weapon through the verbal duel.

* WHY AM I GETTING FUEL (ha) TO SHIP GERTRUDE/ELIAS A BIT MORE, I mean, there is definite Aesthetic in the way… they had been around each other for a long while (almost a fourth of Jonah’s “life”/lives?):

(MAG158) ELIAS: So you burn the place down, use it as cover to reach my body, and then we die together. [CHUCKLE] How… poetic. Doesn’t seem like your style at all. […] I suppose we both got a little complacent. Fifty years is a long time! [CHUCKLE] “End of an era”. GERTRUDE: I’m not really in the mood for nostalgia, Elias. You might have noticed I’m rather busy, so either shoot me or– [ONE GUNSHOT] GERTRUDE: [GASP] [BODY COLLAPSING] GERTRUDE: … Well… there it is… I thought it would hurt more… [GUN BEING PUT AWAY] ELIAS: [SIGH] Pity.

So familiar and intimate in a way? And, uh, Elias was still regretting her death. So somehow, she would still have been a viable option for The Watcher’s Crown, or still usable as an Eye agent, if she hadn’t tried to burn the place down? Aouch. What does it take to not be a viable option…?

* The thing about Gertrude’s age echoed Eric’s comment about it:

(MAG154) GERTRUDE: Well, it’s… good to see you, I suppose. ERIC: You too. … You got old. GERTRUDE: Better than being dead. ERIC: [HUFF] Fair enough. To be honest, I’m impressed, more than anything. Hard to get old in this business; you either die or you, er… “stay young”.

(MAG158) GERTRUDE: [SIGH] Age catches us all. … Well. Almost all of us, Elias. ELIAS: You were the one so… insistent on staying human. GERTRUDE: And no doubt that makes my death a lot less complicated.

And if Jonah had indeed been body-hopping from Head of the Institute to Head of the Institute, he was stopping at middle-age: Jon had mentioned that James Wright had been director from 1973 to 1996, so around 23 years. And we have, in parallel, Jonah’s actual body… which keeps getting older apparently:

(MAG158) MARTIN: Curren–… [QUICK FOOTSTEPS] [SHARP BREATHING] … Who is that? PETER: Jonah Magnus! His… body, at least. Sitting here; watching; binding it all together; growing ever older.

(Also, confirmation that Jon’s comment in MAG001 about Gertrude having been Head Archivist for fifty years wasn’t an exaggeration, since Jonah!Elias said the same. … Meanwhile, Jon has been Archivist for only three years and… is already reaching that level of disaster. Either Elias was really lucky circumstances-wise or regarding Jon’s personality, either he reaaaally played his cards well, holy heck.)

* That friggin’ scene:

(MAG158) GERTRUDE: I’m not really in the mood for nostalgia, Elias. You might have noticed I’m rather busy, so either shoot me or– [ONE GUNSHOT] GERTRUDE: [GASP]

To quote Melanie in MAG147: “… Famous last words.”

But also: brfehdjngfd I’m so upset about TIM, because this? This???

(MAG104) TIM: Okay – well, let me tell you what. If you want me to ignore everything that’s going on, forget my brother, and everything that’s happened over the last two years… how about you kill me? ELIAS: … I don’t want it to come to that. TIM: Well, me either. But here we are! So my proposal for you is this: either kill me, or fuck off. ELIAS: … I’ll come back– TIM: [EXPLOSIVE SIGH] ELIAS: –when you’re feeling more… reasonable.

Tim dodged a LITERAL BULLET, and what might have been Elias’s thoughts in MAG104? When the scene happened in the Archives (not sure whether it was in the same office but I’m pretty sure it was the same sound effect for the door), when Tim used the same reasoning, and when Elias just left, this time? (Did he spare Tim because Tim wasn’t an actual threat back then, more bark than bite, or because he still had use for him, or both…? I’ve always wondered if Elias hadn’t been a bit fond of Tim, in a cat-playing-with-a-mouse way, because of the way he technically gave him advice on how to handle The Eye’s binding in MAG090 and acknowledged that the Institute could be a lot for the people working there… It was definitely keeping Tim in check, sure, but Tim was just sulking in his corner and back from his fleeing attempt, it wasn’t necessary to make him feel less bad…?)

* fdsjcxnerfds I’m half mad half??? Hysterical??? That every season is still ending on a big “what truly happened to Gertrude” note because THE TAPE WE HEARD RAISED MORE QUESTIONS THAN IT ANSWERED:

-> There is the question of Gertrude’s fears. In MAG157, Adelard raised a good question about whether Gertrude was as stone-cold as we thought or was just very good at dissimulating… and she still didn’t sound that scared when Elias shot her? But Oliver had described her as looking absolutely terrorised:

(MAG011, “Antonio Blake”) “I could see none of the figure’s body beneath the flesh that enclosed them, but as I moved around I saw the face was uncovered. It was your face and the expression upon it was far more fearful than any I had seen in eight years of wandering this twilight city. That was when I awoke.”

(MAG158) [ONE GUNSHOT] GERTRUDE: [GASP] [BODY COLLAPSING] GERTRUDE: … Well… there it is… I thought it would hurt more…

She could have been dissimulating how truly afraid she was, but. Mmmm. She didn’t sound like she was afraid of Elias – just a bit annoyed at having been interrupted.

-> Their dialogue set that scene in March 2015, when The Dark was carrying out its ritual attempt.

(MAG158) GERTRUDE: I’d rather hoped you’d still be hampered with all The Dark’s business. [DOOR CLOSES] It’s their… “Grand Eclipse” at the moment, isn’t it?

Elias had told Jon that blood had been found in Gertrude’s office on March 15th, 2015, and that the police had established that it was Gertrude’s blood, and that such a blood loss led them to conclude that she was dead (MAG040). But March 15th was one day after Oliver’s statement (MAG011), whose dreams put Gertrude’s Planned End around March 22nd; it doesn’t match the peak of The Dark’s ritual (with the eclipse over Ny-Ålesund having happened on March 20th) either. ………………… and it still doesn’t explain why we have a tape of Gertrude reading a statement on April 4th, 2015 (when she should be dead-dead). The other problem with MAG087 is that Jon, in his post-statement, also behaved as if Gertrude had died in March 2016; he said it was a recording from one year prior to her death, when she said the date was 2015 and was reading a statement from October 2014 (can’t read a statement from October 2014 if the actual recording date was in April 2014 and she had accidentally pronounced the recording date wrong, right?), and when Jon himself pointed out that according to the recording, Jude Perry, mentioned by Gertrude, was still living in London two years earlier (Jon was recording in March-April 2017: if Gertrude’s tape was from 2014, that would have been three years earlier). So, I would be more willing to think that Jon didn’t catch on to the fact that Gertrude was still kicking a few weeks after her official date of death rather than accept that there were three consecutive timeline mistakes in that episode. Gertrude had also mentioned in her post-statement (officially on April 4th) that:

(MAG087) GERTRUDE: […] I had assumed Orsinov and her ilk would have spent more time searching for their precious skin, maybe even acting against me directly, before they started alternate preparations. I had hoped I’d have a chance to recover. I can still barely stand.

… she had recently been injured. Could be about the taxidermy shop, when she took the gorilla skin, but we still don’t know for sure. Even if she had been protected from a fatal injury (plain old bulletproof vest covered with blood sacks? Supernatural protection?), that would still have been enough to be severely injured, especially at her age.

-> Elias and Gertrude didn’t say it outright but implied it clearly enough:

(MAG158) ELIAS: So you burn the place down, use it as cover to reach my body, and then we die together. [CHUCKLE] How… poetic. Doesn’t seem like your style at all. GERTRUDE: I wasn’t actually planning on dying. ELIAS: And how exactly were you planning on achieving that while you’re still bound to the… ha. Oh, I see. Very clever. [CHUCKLE] I thought Eric was the only one to figure that little morsel out.

The plan for Gertrude was to reach the Panopticon, gouge her eyes out, kill Jonah’s body for real to neutralise him, and escape the fallout. Which would have meant becoming blind and cutting her connection to The Eye before moving on to neutralising The Unknowing. In October 2014, so shortly before Gerry’s death, she was still speculating that she would need someone tied to The Eye to stop The Stranger (and she had told Gerry that she had a secret storage unit; so she already had the explosives in mind, it was requiring both):

(MAG137) GERTRUDE: Doesn’t help with The Unknowing, though. [HEAVY SIGH] We still have Dekker’s back-up plan, of course, but… it’s very risky. To be sure, I–I think the detonation would need to happen from within The Unknowing, while it was going on. Gerard may have a connection to The Eye, but I’m not convinced it will be enough.

… if she had cut her own connection to The Eye, she wouldn’t have been a viable sacrifice either. So why try to neutralise Elias before The Unknowing, while sacrificing her chances at stopping the latter?

-> Biggest problem:

(MAG040) ARCHIVIST: Martin… How did Gertrude Robinson die? MARTIN: … I don’t know. Not for sure; it was so dark, and I only saw the body for a few seconds. The police were quite clear that the cause of death could be absolutely any– ARCHIVIST: Martin, how did she die? MARTIN: She was shot! Three times, that I could see. … Three shots to the chest.

(MAG158) [ONE GUNSHOT] GERTRUDE: [GASP] [BODY COLLAPSING]

Three holes vs. one gunshot. I mean, sure, I can picture Elias placing her down in the tunnels and putting two more bullets in her body “just in case” (or noticing she wasn’t dead already and correcting that. Or a few spiders making a nest in her body. Or Michael stabbing her a few times). But as long as Elias doesn’t confirm, I…………. think it might be very likely that she didn’t die in the tape we heard, but that she bluffed and went off the grid at this point, and that something else caught her later?

It’s absolutely possible that no, actually, she did die there, and some things will click in place (and/or that I’m reading things wrong) but. What would have been enough to make her so afraid, as Oliver had described…? (………… something related to The Extinction, that she had downplayed so much? Something related to Adelard, who had officially died some time before?) (And there are still some dates problems aaaaarg.)

(- We heard Gertrude’s (as of now) official demise from the past, with a tape recorder apparently clicking on on its own… So I wonder: would it be possible to hear even more sneaky tapes from the past? Jon’s hiring around 2012, or his appointment as Head Archivist? Martin’s hiring (in 2009 or earlier), or how he came to work for The Archives (we still don’t know whether Elias put him there, whether Martin volunteered, or if somehow, Martin had asked to come down with Jon)? Gertrude has also mentioned the chat she had with Elias right after he body-hopped into this body (so 1996 or before)…)

- There is still a Story behind The Dark’s ritual attempt, too!

(MAG143) MANUELA: 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… I heard Maxwell cry out, scrambling desperately into the Dark Sun, stopping just short of touching it. But it was too late. Whatever it was that you and your Archivist did, it clearly worked.

Elias and Gertrude had understood why it wouldn’t work, and I wonder if it has to do with Manuela’s statement from July 2014 (MAG135), since it was a direct challenge to the both of them? I still don’t have a clue about why it failed, but I’m assuming that it’s been right under our nose all along…

(The only thing I’ve managed to notice is that it was right around the time that Evan Lukas died; could be absolutely unrelated, but… but. It doesn’t feel like we know the full story about Evan either?)

(Also, confirmation that Elias was UTTERLY FULL OF SHIT ABOUT IT!! BASTARD KNEW!!!

(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. […] If Gertrude had a plan for this one, I haven’t found it, which is why Jon needs to be closer to The Eye. If anyone can stop what’s happening, he can. See through the darkness, etcetera.

To his credit: it doesn’t seem like Gertrude actively stopped that one, but rather that it failed on his own… so he indeed didn’t know about her potential plans (since they weren’t necessary in the end). And he did point out to Basira that the Aurora Borealis were ~lovely~ in the current season, so. The increase of people/supplies. Might. Have. Just Been. Because of the touristic season. Fucker.)

- It Is Always A Good Time to remember that Elias had once called Jon “dramatic”:

(MAG067) ELIAS: Oh, good lord, don’t be so dramatic, Jon! You know how hard it would be to replace you! ARCHIVIST: I–I don’t, actually. But… thank you. I suppose.

Mister “Making Sure My Entrance Is The Most Dramatic Entrance That Ever Entrance’d” and “Planning My Lines Ahead So I GO BACK TO TRYING TO SAY THEM, DON’T INTERRUPT ME, JON”…

(MAG158) MARTIN: [SHAKY INHALE] … Where are his eyes? ELIAS: Exactly– MARTIN: [GASP] ELIAS: –where they’ve always been, Martin. Watching over my Institute.

[…] ARCHIVIST: What is this place? ELIAS: Hm! A complicated question, and time is– ARCHIVIST: [STATIC] That’s the Panopticon… […] “But”? ELIAS: “But” for Martin? Time is very much of the essence.

… had called Jon dramatic.

Asshole had the line “time is (very much) of the essence” and desperately wanted to place it, uh.

- I’m a bit sad over the Jonah Reveal, because the idea that our “Elias” was actually truly an old lazy student and pothead turned absolute fanatical zealot (and/or the idea that other avatars kept assuming he was actually Jonah Magnus when he wasn’t) cracked me up so much! Would sure have been a different story than Your Antagonist Is Actually An Old Victorian Asshole Who Didn’t Want To Die, but it makes a lot of sense and we’ve had so, so many little things pointing out in that direction:

(MAG049) ARCHIVIST: Supplemental. Elias Bouchard is a difficult man to pin down, certainly since he became head of the Institute in 1996, taking over from James Wright, who ran the place from ‘73 until he passed away. It was a remarkably fast climb to the top, as from what I can find, it looks like he only joined the Institute five years before, in 1991, working in the Artefact Storage. Perhaps he was simply that impressive. Certainly, the Elias I know now is almost unmatched in terms of paranormal knowledge. Well. Theoretical knowledge, at least. And yet, everything I found out about his life before the Institute seems… an ill fit with the austere man I know. He apparently graduated with a Third from Christ Church’s College in PPE, and I found an old gossip column in the student newspaper that – sure well – that mentioned him. If I’m not reading too much into it, the implication seems to be that he was… something of a… pothead [CHUCKLES]. Was he… like that when he first came to work here…?

(MAG092) ELIAS: Jonah Magnus did leave him in that place, Jon. He got the letter, oh yes, and was on good terms with Mordechai Lukas. He could have interceded, perhaps even saved him, but he did not. And it was not out of malice, or because he lacked affection for Barnabas Bennett: he retrieved those bones sadly enough when the time came. Bones that you can still find in my office, if you know where to look. No, it was because he was curious. Because he had to know, to watch and see it all. That’s what this place is, Jon, never forget it. You may believe yourself to have friends, to have confidantes, but in the end, all they are, is something for you to watch, to know, and ultimately to discard. This, at least, Gertrude understood.

(MAG096) DAISY: El–Elias didn’t say. ARCHIVIST: No, he doesn’t, uh… He’s not big on micromanagement. SARAH: It’s Elias now, then? ARCHIVIST: [WHISPERING] What? DAISY: Get on with it.

(MAG101) NIKOLA: Is it… your Elias who listens? Helloooooo! […] So, Elias, can I call you Elias?, let me set the scene, as I know you can’t actually see this. […] You know Elias, can I call you Elias?, you have not raised this one very well! […] Oh, no, I’m afraid he can’t See, can you Elias?, can I call you Elias? – what’s the point of having a secret place of power if you can’t hide it from a big stupid eye?

(MAG135, Manuela Dominguez) “When you read this, I would consider it a great favour if you could share my words with the Head of your Institute. Tell him that Maxwell Rayner sends his regards and offers… sanctuary. A time of holy Darkness is at hand, when The Eye will close forever, and in the spirit of the friendship they once shared, he offers an opportunity – to surrender.”

(MAG138, Robert Smirke) “I beg you, do not pursue this goal; if only a single lesson may be gleaned from my life of long study, and longer hardship, it is that the fear of Death is natural, and to flee from it will only bring greater misery. Repent of your sins, Jonah. Seek forgiveness. I am certain the Dread Powers cannot take a soul that keeps faith in the Resurrection.”

(MAG148) ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] Did he mention it at all? My, uh… BASIRA: Oh, your new diet? Nothing useful. Didn’t seem too fazed by it. ARCHIVIST: [LONG SIGH] Right. BASIRA: What? ARCHIVIST: … I–I don’t know, I mean… We still don’t really know… what Elias actually is…? I thought… Maybe if he was more like me than we realised…

So at this point: it was a popular suspicion/theory amongst viewers, but amongst characters, too – at least, Basira wasn’t fazed and seemed to take it as confirmation of a suspicion more than anything:

(MAG158) ARCHIVIST: Uh– yes. And I’d wager that Elias’s body, uh… BASIRA: Gotta be Jonah Magnus, right? ARCHIVIST: I’d say so. BASIRA: [SIGH] And he’s been body-hopping like whatever was in Rayner.

And Martin was surprised by Elias suddenly being there (who wouldn’t be?) but didn’t seem too surprised about the reveal in itself either. Same with Jon, who quickly accepted it – not as casually as Basira, and he seemed to have been shaken/startled by something, but still very smoothly.

I’m satisfied by the way it was done in this episode – Jonah’s body being discovered as Elias revealed himself and as the (last?) conversation between him and Gertrude played. And YES, his entrance and reveal was EXTREMELY DRAMATIC, but it was also so damn good and chilling. Plus, there was the surprise factor of the fact that he’s apparently body-hopping by plugging his ~eyes~ into his hosts? Which fits and is a very neat contrast to the way to escape the Institute’s binding, as Eric and Melanie demonstrated (making sure to destroy their own eyes).

- Still gonna call him “Elias” as long as we don’t know much about who Real OG Pothead Elias was, I’m not in denial over the fact it’s Jonah Magnus, right? But he was called Elias for so long that it stuck.

And I’m laughing a bit that in-series, it seems to be the same thing for Jon? He still called him “Elias”, and Gertrude and Peter did the same; only Martin corrected himself and went with “Jonah” like a good boy:

(MAG158) ARCHIVIST: But Elias put him in charge, that doesn’t make any–! […] ELIAS: Peter. PETER: Elias. […] MARTIN: Elias– … Jonah had nothing to do with it.

But nop, for Jon, still “Elias”. (Is it because part of him is in denial, or out of habit, or an attempt to still cling to some stability, or because calling him “Jonah” sounds too close to his own name?)

- I’m delighted because there are soooo many implications now:

* So, how much of a blast did Jonah have letting the letters addressed to him stay around in the Archives and be read by Jon (MAG023, MAG050, MAG127) and Martin (MAG098, MAG138)?

* When Elias finally entered the room in MAG118…

(MAG118) MARTIN: Oh sorry! Sorry, I’m not keeping you from the show, am I? Well, well you head back, I’ll keep myself busy here. Albrecht von Closen is next, I think. It’s quite an old one! Should go up very quickly. ELIAS: [EXASPERATED BREATHING] … Did Jon put you up to this?

Martin was on the verge of burning Albrecht’s letter!! Given that Jonah wasn’t unrelated to what happened to Albrecht in the end, according to MAG127…

* It was before the Institute, but the Archives contained John Flamsteed’s letter (1715), revealing that Rayner was a body-hopper; and the Archives also contained Doctor Algernon Moss’s letter from 1864 about Rayner’s powers. That was three years before Smirke’s letter to Jonah, accusing and warning him about the danger of serving The Eye. Manuela had also pointed out that ~the Head of the Institute~ and Maxwell Rayner used to be friends (unless it was taunting from the start: “the friendship they once shared”) so… Jonah probably took a page from Rayner’s personal book, though giving it an Eye touch.

(… He also borrowed from Rayner’s book re: using someone’s love and desire to save someone they care for in order to make them do atrocious thing, as what happened with Robert Montauk and his wife, but more on that later.)

* It’s extra-funny that Nikola was all “Can I call you Elias?” since Grimaldi, who was proto-Nikola… was alive during Jonah’s actual lifetime. Jonah probably saw him onstage.

* Jonah was also alive when Ruskin’s book came out – the Fear version might have popped up before or after but still, it was from Jonah’s era, and worked in the tunnels, and was even used in this episode during Peter&Martin’s progression:

(MAG080) LEITNER: An unexpurgated copy of Ruskin’s The Seven Lamps of Architecture, published in 1845. Of course, Ruskin didn’t even begin writing the book until 1846, and the text of this one varies markedly from the version that was distributed. It gives an acute sense of the walls pressing in around you, and if consumed recklessly will physically entomb the reader. Over the years I have found that it interacts with Smirke’s architecture, and those tunnels specifically, in a more predictable way. By carefully reading specific passages in certain locations I am able to exercise… a degree of control over the substance of the tunnels.

* Avatars/monsters were all so cool and fair-play about it?? Manuela didn’t call him “Jonah” (she didn’t name him), Peter always called him “Elias”, Simon didn’t mention Elias or the Head of the Institute at all… How many of them knew, and were probably thinking it was the worst secret ever kept, but still had their fun using his new host’s name? They’ve been so sportsmanlike and nice to him.

* That line in the season 3 Q&A about how ~Elias was older than he sounded~ =D

* … MAG138, Robert Smirke’s letter, was probably a hint to Martin not only about the tunnels (as he was thinking) but about Jonah still being There. Smirke had specifically mentioned Jonah’s fear of dying as he was giving himself to The Eye. Peter was actually preparing Martin to the concept that Jonah hadn’t really died (and that Martin was supposed to kill him)…………………

* The fact that Elias hadn’t been preoccupied by The Extinction’s emergence, while acknowledging that it might be happening… might be because he was around when The Flesh emerged? Gerry had pointed out that its “ascendance” happened during the Smirke era (MAG111: “I think it’s quite new. Only just beginning its, uh, ascendance when Smirke labelled it.”), and it indeed didn’t change the game much. Might be why Elias wasn’t that preoccupied by it, outside of the fact that he was aiming for his own ritual anyway?

* Now, think back to a lot of things that happened in the course of the series. When Mary Keay roasted Elias by describing him as “not big on action” (MAG062)? It was actually about Jonah Magnus.

This excellent dialogue?

(MAG079) TIM: […] There is something in this place, and it’s messing up our heads. It watches us all the time, it stops me quitting, I’m pretty sure it would stop Elias firing Jon even if he decided to actually try running this place for once. […] Er… Elias is probably still in his office. MARTIN: I thought you said he was a waste of a suit. TIM: Yeah, well he’s better than nothing!

… was actually about Jonah Magnus (mARTIN caLlED hIM A “wAStE oF A sUIt”…)

Jon (Master Of Redundancy) said that Jonah Magnus was a “cocky prick” in MAG096, and of “zero practical use” in MAG102.

Tim told Jonah Magnus to “fuck off” in MAG104.

Xiaoling implied that Jonah Magnus was too lazy to handle an Archivist whose mother-tongue wouldn’t be English, back in MAG105.

Peter said this

(MAG108) PETER: Oh. That doesn’t sound like the Elias I know. He killed people himself? […] Elias Bouchard, getting his hands dirty. Well-well. Must be the End Times.

about Jonah frigging Magnus.

A police officer punched Jonah Magnus in MAG120, and Basira beat him up during an extended sequence in MAG148.

I mean. It was already hilarious when about “Elias”, but replace everything with “Jonah Magnus” and or “an old Victorian body-hopper”, and suddenly, all of this becomes even more satisfying. (Especially Basira’s episode.)

- There are also a few more recent power-related things which also take on a new dimension with the Reveal:

* Martin had picked up on the fact that Elias had known about Prentiss in the tunnels for a while, which Elias didn’t deny… so it didn’t seem like the tunnels were an Absolute Blind Spot for him.

(MAG118) MARTIN: Not even close. Because… [HEAVY BREATHING] I… I’ve been thinking. It’s not like you’ve got this all-seeing thing recently. You’ve had it the whole time. I remember the way you looked at Sasha after the attack. You knew it wasn’t her. And I reckon you knew Prentiss was lurking under the Institute, too, and you did nothing. Why? [SILENCE] WHY?! [SLAMS TABLE] ELIAS: … Let’s just get this over with, shall we?

Or at least, he knew them well enough to be able to tell that Prentiss was there. (Not sure who drew Peter’s map for him: could be Helen, since he was mentioning her to Martin right before and Helen Richardson used to be good with maps; could have been Elias, since he was waiting in the Panopticon, so the tunnels weren’t as off-limit had Jon had previously assumed, and he perfectly knew the way – well, he had been alive when everything had been designed and built, so Makes sense.

What is still odd is: how come Martin was able to find Gertrude’s body down there, back in season 1…?)

* I hate him:

(MAG120) MARTIN: You didn’t just see it in me? ELIAS: Honestly, I didn’t look. For all my power, I will admit I am not immune to making the occasional lazy assumption. I presumed that I knew you thoroughly, but by the time you demonstrated otherwise… well. There was simply too much to keep watching over. I only have two eyes, after all.

“I only have two eyes after all” fuuuuuckkkkk oooooooooooooffff, oh my goooooods!!!

* erfysudhbjzreds THAT BIT!!! THAT BIT!!!

(MAG134) PETER: What does puzzle me, though, and I mean that genuinely, is… why you were piling tape recorders onto the coffin, while Jon was in there. [PAUSE] It’s a question, Martin, it’s– it’s not an accusation. MARTIN: I don’t know. And I just… felt like it might help. He’s always recording, I thought… it–it might help him… find his way out. PETER: Interesting. Were you compelled? MARTIN: [SULLEN] … I don’t know. … M–maybe? I–I, I definitely wanted to do it… PETER: But? MARTIN: I’m… I’m not sure where the idea came from. PETER: You should watch out for that. Could be something dangerous.

Peter was actually suspecting that Elias was trying to interfere, back then?! Since he was suspecting Elias of trying to do just that in MAG158:

(MAG158) MARTIN: … If I… if I do kill you… will the others survive? PETER: Elias? [FOOTSTEPS] ELIAS: Come now, Peter. It’s a valid question. […] PETER: I see. … This is your doing, is it? ELIAS: [AUDIBLE GRIN] Hardly…! […] PETER: … No. No! This isn’t fair, do you have any idea what you’ve done? You knew, he must have– MARTIN: Elias– … Jonah had nothing to do with it.

* ……………… Okay, so:

(MAG158) ELIAS: Ah, Jon. I was almost worried…! You found your way all right. ARCHIVIST: [PANTING] Yes. … Ye–yes, I did… How? ELIAS: Suffice it to say I called you.

Is something that Elias can apparently do. And there is one particular time that Jon had mentioned feeling “called” towards something.

(MAG127) BASIRA: And what was that you were doing yesterday? ARCHIVIST: … When…? BASIRA: You were sat on the floor for like four hours. ARCHIVIST: … Oh! Er, n–n–no, I was, er, I was… listening. Y’know, it’s, trying to see if any of the statements… called to me. BASIRA: And? ARCHIVIST: [FLAPPING PAPER] BASIRA: Brilliant.

… Was it actually Elias drawing him towards Jonathan Fanshawe’s statement? Towards the letter of someone who had decided to cut ties with Jonah after what he had done to Albrecht, about what The Eye could do to someone, about something that contributed to the Institute’s early days (the books stolen from the crypt)?

* Jon had wondered why he had been “chosen” back in MAG138… and if it’s really because Jonah fucking Magnus went “oh, he’s called Jonathan and he sounds a bit like Jonathan Fanshawe? Hahaha, wouldn’t it be fun”, I’m going to scream.

* ………… I have been wondering this entire season what was the thing pulling Jon towards this and that statement, and it’s something that Annabelle pointed out in MAG147, when she mentioned that there were various influences… but now, I’m getting even more worried over MAG150, a statement in which someone manages to get out from The Lonely because he was reached by someone he still loved. It sounded like such a weirdly optimistic story, compared to our usual statement? The statement-giver learned and managed to get his life more or less back together, and is working, and things are hard but he’s alright? … What if it really was a red herring, to give Jon the impression that it’s possible to pull the same trick and get out with Martin, when the circumstances are different…?

- What are the things making Elias so frighteningly efficient as an antagonist? I think we got an absolute demonstration in this episode, and it’s quite significant that this is the episode where he revealed himself as Jonah Magnus. Because, what did we know about Jonah? In respectively 1816, 1841 and 1864:

(MAG023, Albrecht von Closen) […] “I recall that during your visit last spring you mentioned your… fascination with the macabre and strange, and pressed upon me as to whether there were any such lore or legends that I myself were familiar with. Wolfgang writes me that you are acquiring quite the collection, and I feel that I now have something that belongs with it, far more than any of the fairy stories or old maids’ tales that I told you before. […] Still, I look forward to showing you the book I have acquired, and the revelations you will no doubt glean from it.”

(MAG050, Sampson Kempthorne) “Dear Jonah; it is my fondest wish that this message should find you in good health, as I have heard more than one mutual acquaintance remark on your current state of overwork. While I earnestly hope it is merely idle gossip, my knowledge of your character leads me to entreat that you allow yourself some respite, or at the very least take some further secretarial staff into your employ. Certain uncharitable quarters would have it that your life consists of little but rattling around in Edinburgh Townhouse, surrounded by piles of ghostly accounts and lunatic documentation. Piles, I am afraid to say, to which I am about to make an addition.”

(MAG098, Doctor Algernon Moss) “I come to you not to wallow in my condition, or pour out my soul like a papist in the confessional, but to request your assistance. I believe that Maxwell Rayner has at his disposal some unholy power that he has used to curse me and cause my blindness. Or, more precisely, to cause me to blind myself, for I shall not deny I did so willingly. For obvious reasons my accusations have had me laughed out of most polite society. Not quite so polite when you’re accusing someone of witchcraft, it would seem. I now ask the assistance of your Institute in the hopes that you may be able to furnish some evidence or legal precedent that may assist me in taking action against my assailant, though I will admit my expectations for the latter are limited. Maxwell Rayner is an oddity. […] So, there is my story. I’m sure you’ll agree that Maxwell Rayner is the clear architect of my misfortune. Now, how do you suppose I revenge myself upon him?”

We got glimpses of his life through Jon and Martin reading the letters addressed to him, sent by friends and intimates who indulged his passion for tales of supernatural stories. Dr. Algernon Moss was requiring his “assistance”, and at that point, by the 1860s, the Institute seemed to already be operating as in the present day (it has a reputation, people come to share their stories, they sometimes require help, and will never get it), but there was fondness in Albrecht von Closen and Sampson Kempthorne’s letters – Adelard Dekkard pointed out that The Eye’s influence was present in his last message to Gertrude (MAG156), but it didn’t sound odd to Albrecht or Sampson to write their stories (statements) willingly, as gifts to a friend.

But we also know that Jonah Magnus actively or passively caused suffering to his own friends and acquaintances, and, in the case of Barnabas, Elias himself acknowledged that it wasn’t even due to a lack of sympathy (1824, 1831, 1867):

(MAG092, Barnabas Bennett) “You must help me. If anyone is still here, it is you. I know your work brings you into contact with all sorts of fantastical terrors, so perhaps you might have it within your power to save me from this place. […] And you must help me, Jonah. If anyone knows of what might break me from this dreadful place, it is you. I know that what is done by those I cannot see might be felt here – I have found glasses broken and pages torn that were not so the night before. It is my hope that if I leave a letter here, in your institute, you might find it, you might be able to save me. I have no other hope. Please, Jonah, if you have any compassion within your heart, you will not leave me in this place. Your loyal servant; Barnabas.” ELIAS: Jonah Magnus did leave him in that place, Jon. He got the letter, oh yes, and was on good terms with Mordechai Lukas. He could have interceded, perhaps even saved him, but he did not. And it was not out of malice, or because he lacked affection for Barnabas Bennett: he retrieved those bones sadly enough when the time came.

(MAG127, Doctor Jonathan Fanshawe) “Jonah; I must first and foremost decline your generous offer of a medical position servicing Millbank Penitentiary. While the terms you’ve laid out are no doubt more than adequate, I have, over these last months, come to the unfortunate conclusion that our intimacy and friendship must cease immediately. I do not know what interest you have in the poor condemned souls within those walls, nor do I care to guess. In the light of what I have so recently witnessed, I can no longer in good conscience associate with any of your endeavours. Nor will I continue to collect or provide all those accounts of the esoteric and otherworldly, that you and your… Institute so eagerly require. Consider this the severing of our acquaintance. This cannot come as a shock to you. Surely, you must have understood what you were asking when you employed me to visit with Albrecht, and apply my… meagre skills to the illness that beset him. You must have known the nature of that illness, even if only in the most general terms. And no doubt you had some intuition as to its cause. […] Because whatever it was that did this to him, I know in my heart that it is your fault. I’ve had the body burned. Please, do not write to me again.”

(MAG138, Robert Smirke) “My dear Jonah; You will forgive me, I hope, for being so forward, but I feel I must break the silence that has characterised our acquaintance for these past decades. […] I am choosing to assume that these manifestations are unintentional, Jonah, and you have not… simply decided to implore a Dark Patron to end the life of an old man. I further find myself supposing that they may emanate from your own intrigues and preparations to culminate those plans which we agreed to abandon so many decades ago! […] The Eye has marked me for something, of this I have no doubt. My… humble hope is that it may be a swift death, an accidental effect of your own researches, which I once again implore you to abandon. It is likely too late for me, but I will not…”

I’m still not sure that Jon got the right handle of it when he took Jonathan Fanshawe’s statement as an indicator that Jonah Magnus had been evil-from-the-start, because it could also be mirroring his own downfall: falling unknowingly into The Eye’s embrace, then trying to shake out of it or to resist it, only to fall entirely later – wasn’t it what happened with Daisy and The Hunt? With Jon himself, though he’s not at the last point (yet…?), when he fed from the suffering of innocents before refraining himself, first because he was forced to (starting MAG148) and then because he was actively trying to not do what The Eye wanted him to (MAG154)? Robert Smirke mentioned that he and Jonah used to share plans before agreeing to abandon them, and that they weren’t answering to the calls of Beholding; either Jonah fooled him, either Jonah indeed fought off The Eye’s influence (after Albrecht’s death?) up until Robert Smirke’s last letter.

But, mostly, these letters told us that Jonah Magnus was far from being unappreciated. People valued him, cared for him, trusted him. And, given how Jonah made them suffer, we would want for that kind of feelings to be Jonah’s weak spot, something he wasn’t able to understand… but Elias knows about them, takes them into account as a potential motivator. At least with the current Archives team, he has constantly weaponised affection as a means of control – ensnaring both Daisy and Basira because of their feelings for each other, getting Jon to join in The Unknowing expedition because of his worry for Tim, partially banking on Martin’s feelings for Jon as a safeguard that Martin wouldn’t entirely fall into Peter’s grasp, luring Jon into the coffin (to experience The Buried and push his powers further) because Jon wanted to rescue Daisy, getting Martin cast into The Lonely because he knew that Jon would do everything to save Martin, even at the cost of himself:

(MAG092) ELIAS: Ah, of course. Er, sometimes I forget how new you all are to this. Basira is now tied to the Institute. All of you are. Like fingers on a hand. And I am the beating heart of it. Should I, or the Institute, be destroyed, you will all, unfortunately, follow suit. MELANIE: Wait, what? TIM: Yup, that sounds about right. ELIAS: And it would not be a pleasant death. DAISY: Bullshit! ELIAS: Then shoot me. Just squeeze the trigger, and watch the only person you care about die screaming. Your last connection to humanity. Do it. BASIRA: Daisy…

(MAG117) ARCHIVIST: Tim isn’t going to sit home and wait, and Elias seems pretty insistent I go along.

(MAG135) ELIAS: 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.

(MAG138) MARTIN: Yeah. Well. I’m still not sure I really believe it. [EXHALE] A–and, I don’t… I–… I’m, h… ELIAS: Worried he might charge off into another coffin. [SILENCE] … Quite.

(MAG158) MARTIN: Maybe I just thought joining up with you would be a good way to get killed. And then… [SHAKILY] Jon came back, and… and suddenly, I had a reason: I had to keep your attention on me. Make you feel in control, so you didn’t take it out on him. And if that meant drifting further away… so what? I’d already grieved for him, and if it meant now saving him, it was worth it! […] ELIAS: Peter Lukas has him. Cast him into The Lonely, and with every passing moment, he gets further away from you. ARCHIVIST: How do I bring him back? ELIAS: From out here? … Impossible. ARCHIVIST: … You want me to follow him. ELIAS: No, Jon. You want you to follow him. I simply want you to know that if you do so, you are almost certainly not coming back. To go into The Lonely willingly is as good as death. ARCHIVIST: … How do I do it?

* So, Elias finally revealed that he wasn’t as trapped in prison as he had been pretending to be up until now:

(MAG158) ARCHIVIST: Gone how? DAISY: Just walked out, as far as we can tell. BASIRA: Couple of guards on duty vanished too. ARCHIVIST: “Vanished”? How? BASIRA: Just left. ARCHIVIST: [EXASPERATED SIGH] BASIRA: Best we can tell, he had some dirt on them. DAISY: Old friend at the prison let us know. ARCHIVIST: What, and no one thought of that? BASIRA: Asshole could have left at any time, but he just sat there laughing at us. ARCHIVIST: No, no, this, this can’t be a coincidence…

And indeed, why did he choose to leave now? Was it only because Peter himself had decided that Martin was ready? Is it because another threat is coming? Or had Peter and Elias agreed on a deadline from the start? Jon, back in MAG127, was suspecting that something could be coming with the Institute’s 200th anniversary, though he didn’t know the day the Institute had been founded. Was it actually September 25th or 26th…?

- Soooo, about the Panopticon’s purpose / what it might be capable of doing…

(MAG138, Robert Smirke) “I could not go easy to my grave without offering you one last plea for your restraint. What we built at Millbank should be left well enough alone, resigned to the nightmares of the reprobates and brigands contained within its walls. […] And if, as I came to believe, the Dread Powers were themselves places of a sort, then surely with the right space, the right architecture, they could be contained. Channelled. Harnessed. […] I am not a fool; I know well enough what this dream is likely to mean, and I warn you again that if you have any remaining ambitions to use our work, to try and wear The Watcher’s Crown, you must abandon them! Not simply for the sake of your own soul, but for that of the world! I have always had the utmost respect for you as a man of dignity, and learning. Do not allow yourself to fall to this madness.”

(MAG158) MARTIN: What is this place? PETER: The Panopticon of Millbank prison. Not quite as Smirke originally conceived it, of course. Jonah Magnus made certain… adjustments. MARTIN: And it’s been down here the whole time? PETER: Why do you think this was chosen as the Institute’s location, when the prison closed? It’s a significant site of power for The Beholding. From the tower in the centre of this room, you can see everything. MARTIN: But there’s nothing in the cells…! PETER: [CHUCKLING] I don’t mean the cells, Martin – I mean everything.

* Smirke gave up, Jonah didn’t and/or went back on it. So. Oops. Given how The Eye has indeed been able to feed through the other Fears’ actions (through statements or an Archivist), bad. Badbadbad.

* Did it get fuelled by prisoners’ fears…? From something concrete and tangible, to something immaterial because their feelings powered/scarred the place so much?

* It was very faint, and I LOVED the sound effect present in the tower: something between the wind whistling and very low whispers? It made the place immediately threatening and gave the impression that yeah, there were many ghosts/dead bodies/sufferings caused around it…?

- I’m still rfedubrehjd over the fact that Peter and Elias’s first live interaction was firmly anticipated (Peter had mentioned he was there to see Elias in MAG100! It was the case again in MAG108! We knew, at least from Peter, that they weren’t strangers, although Elias didn’t acknowledge Peter’s existence in return until MAG138; but it has been so long between the moment we learned that they knew each other and their first ‘onscreen’ interaction!) AND YET… managed to be Even Better than I could have dreamed of. Elias was SUCH A SHIT:

(MAG158) ELIAS: I warned you, Peter~ […] PETER: … No. No! This isn’t fair, do you have any idea what you’ve done? You knew, he must have– MARTIN: Elias– … Jonah had nothing to do with it. PETER: No! That’s not– You can’t– ELIAS: You’ve lost, Peter. Admit it. [CHUCKLE] He played you like a… like a cheap whistle. PETER: No! Shut up! ELIAS: Peter. [PAUSE] It’s time. [SILENCE] PETER: … Fine. MARTIN: Great. [VERY SHARP SQUEALS OF DISTORTION INCREASING] Now, perhaps if one of you, then, can tell me what– [SHARP SQUEALS OF DISTORTION REACHING A PEAK, BEFORE DECREASING] ELIAS: It won’t be that bad, Peter~ [CHUCKLE] You’ll see. Now: he’ll be here soon, so you can leave, or… PETER: Oh no. No. I’m not gonna make it easy on him. You haven’t won yet. ELIAS: Your choice. Just make sure to leave the door open.

Compensating much for all of Peter’s little digs, uh. They’re so… divorced…………….

Peter had told Martin right away that Elias had chosen him as interim Director, Jon had been suspecting very early that Peter&Elias were scheming together, Basira’s plural in MAG151 was implying that she was thinking the same…

(MAG120) PETER: Oh! Right, of course! Well, you’ve successfully managed to remove Elias as the Head of the Magnus Institute. So… MARTIN: Oh. Oh, god, what does that do? PETER: Oh! No, no no no! No. Not in any, hum, metaphysical sense, no, he’s still very much the… how did he insist on phrasing it… Ah yes, the “beating heart of the Institute”. But, practically speaking, he can hardly fulfil his more mundane managerial duties from a jail cell. MARTIN: … so he knew this was going to happen? PETER: Not exactly. He… anticipated that you would likely find some way to remove him. So he made alternative arrangements. MARTIN: Which would be you. PETER: Exactly! To be honest with you, Martin, I didn’t expect to be taking over the place so soon, or in such a state of disarray. But, I’ll do my best to keep the place afloat.

(MAG122) BASIRA: No, nothing. Elias isn’t the problem. ARCHIVIST: Sor– what? BASIRA: Elias is locked up. ARCHIVIST: … Wait, Martin’s plan worked? BASIRA: Yeah. A bunch of Section’d officers took him in. He made some sort of deal, I think. But… he’s not getting out anytime soon. ARCHIVIST: … Oh. Wow. O… kay, er… Great, s–so… what’s the problem? BASIRA: He appointed an “interim” director. Guy named Peter Lukas. ARCHIVIST: … Oh.

(MAG125) ARCHIVIST: But honestly, it’s the internal threats I’m worried about. Peter Lukas is just… sitting up there, doing whatever the hell it is he [STATIC] and Elias have planned, and Melanie still has that bullet pumping violence into her, waiting to turn this place into another Lanncraig.

(MAG151) BASIRA: [SIGH] … Okay. You want to do whatever “grand sacrifice” you think is going to save everyone, go ahead. But you’d best be sure you’re not just playing their game. MARTIN: I know what I’m doing. BASIRA: We’ll see. [PAUSE] Don’t make me regret this.

(MAG154) MARTIN: I just… Look, I need to see this thing through with Peter to the end. If–if what he’s saying is even half true, I need to be there. ARCHIVIST: But what if you don’t? I mean…! We could just leave. I mean, whatever… their plan is for me, I am damn sure that doing that isn’t it. I could derail everything– MARTIN: [NERVOUS CHUCKLING] ARCHIVIST: –We could derail everything, and then just… leave…! MARTIN: [DRY AND HOLLOW LAUGHTER] ARCHIVIST: [BREATHY] … What…?

… and turned out that it was a bet. Well. A gamble, for both? We had learned about that aspect of Peter in MAG066 (well, in an explicit form; what happened on the Tundra in MAG033 might have been of that nature too, without the statement-giver being aware of it because… she had won), and it had been mentioned as one of Peter’s ways to navigate (ha) social interactions:

(MAG134) MARTIN: So… so what, you’re afraid of the competition? PETER: Not at all. Honestly, that’s the sort of thing I normally relish; I’ve always been a little bit of a gambler, and the higher the stakes, the better. MARTIN: So… so this is, wh–what?

(MAG151) SIMON: He is what he is, Martin. For a creature of The Lonely, the urge is always to isolate; never to communicate or connect. I suspect that’s why he’s so keen on wagers: it allows him a framework for cooperation that doesn’t risk any sort of intimacy. […] I think… [INHALE] I think Peter is taking a rather large, but calculated gamble. Not just on you, but on a lot of things. If it works, he’ll be in a very strong position. And if he fails… it won’t be all that bad. MARTIN: You don’t think it will be the end of the world? SIMON: Oh! It very well might be, but… MARTIN: [EXPLOSIVE EXHALE] SIMON: Life has continued through dozens of apocalypses already. Ice ages; pandemics; calamities; extinctions… The only reason this one feels special is because, well… it’s happening to you. And that’s the sort of solipsism that tends to come with loneliness – in my experience.

BUT I’M STILL SO MAD THAT

(MAG138) MARTIN: … What? [HUFF] That’s it? No, no monologue, no mindgames? You love manipulating people! ELIAS: That makes two of us. MARTIN: [HUFF] ELIAS: But no. This is too important for me to jeopardise with cheap “mindgames”. I simply have to trust that when the time comes, you’ll make the right choice.

(MAG158) MARTIN: Oh, I’m getting there, but if this is the final test or something? Then bad luck. The answer’s still “no”. [FOOTSTEPS] PETER: … No. No! This isn’t fair, do you have any idea what you’ve done? You knew, he must have– MARTIN: Elias– … Jonah had nothing to do with it. PETER: No! That’s not– You can’t– ELIAS: You’ve lost, Peter. Admit it.

FUCK OOOOOFF ELIAS OH MY GODS the thing about the “right choice” was really just about whether Martin would refuse to kill Jonah Magnus’s body, thus ensuring Elias’s winning the bet… and THAT was the thing “too important for me to jeopardise”, it had never been about The Extinction for Elias uh……………………

- I’m so proud of Martin for understanding that it was all mostly a “power play” between Elias and Peter, and TECHNICALLY? TECHNICALLY PETER HAD BEEN AN ABSOLUTE DUMBASS WHO HAD HIGHLIGHTED THAT THEY TENDED TO BE ~LIKE THAT~:

(MAG108) PETER: Ah, I see. I’m sorry to have disturbed you. It’s one of Elias’s little jokes. MARTIN: I don– What? PETER: Did he suggest you record a statement today? One that mentioned me? MARTIN: … yeah? Sssort of? I mean… not you specifically, but… PETER: I have a meeting with him today. He suggested… I’m sure he’s watching from his office, grinning from ear to ear. MARTIN: I… don’t… PETER: I almost thought he genuinely wanted me to meet the team! Oh well.

Peter And Elias Had Their Little Games, and Martin knew that from experience from the very first time he had met Peter.

… at the same time, Martin being “Martin out” might have been a genuine missed opportunity since… I’m glad that he didn’t go for murder even if he wanted to? And the fact that Elias was ready to risk Jonah’s original body probably meant that there was a huuuuge trick/something that could have backfired if Martin had knifed him? But Daisy had also pointed out that maybe they should have accepted to kill him at the risk of dying when they have had a chance:

(MAG142) MARTIN: I thought you believed him…! You were doing all of his dirty work. DAISY: Well, wasn’t willing to call his bluff. Not the same thing as “believing”. Just too big a risk. MARTIN: … Not for Melanie. DAISY: Well, maybe she was the only one with any sense. Even if he was telling the truth [EXHALE], if we all… died… There are worse things.

And I still really don’t want the bottom line to be that yes, they should have gone for murder? But at the same time, right now, indeed: we’re in “worse things” and heading towards ever worse things than death…

(- I’m still stuck a bit on “why Martin, when alone-wise, Tim was just there?”. Was it because amongst the assistants, Martin was the most willing to read statements before MAG108? Was it really because Martin was easily expendable, prone to fear a lot, and had a special flavour of Loneliness due to both his crush on Jon and his one-sided relationship with his mother?

…………… but given how Elias just knew that Jon would run after Martin, how getting Jon to rush into The Lonely seemed to have been his main goal, and with the recent mention that:

(MAG149) GEORGIE: You must be Martin. MARTIN: Y–yeah. Has… Melanie been talking about me? GEORGIE: Oh, hum… Jon used to go on about you a lot.

… Jon had been talking about Martin off-tape, and given how he had been flustered about “office gossip” in MAG117 and his very persistent longing in season 4… was it that Martin was chosen not exactly for himself, but because Elias had identified Martin as someone Jon would always try to save, as early as in mid-season 3…? When Jon was at Georgie’s and/or when Jon went to ~talk with Martin~ right after being back from his kidnapping in MAG102…?)

- I’m not exactly sure I understood the terms of Peter and Elias’s bet. I’m assuming that Simon was mostly right in his train of thoughts – that Peter succeeding/winning would be getting an occasion to strengthen The Lonely (killing Jonah / setting up Martin as a dual avatar instead of him, thus both ruining The Eye’s chance for its ritual during this round + getting his revenge on Gertrude for ruining Forsaken’s ritual, all the while consolidating The Lonely by stealing a place of power and mayyybe shortening the time span until their next chance at a ritual attempt)…? Or was Peter genuinely preoccupied by The Extinction, or both? At least, Martin refusing to kill Jonah’s body meant Peter “losing”, meant that he had to cast Martin into The Lonely (and surrender his attempt on the Panopticon?); Peter didn’t even have to stay around, he’s just… probably making things hard on himself. Because hum: we saw what happened last time Jon tried to use his power (peering through the door?) to see through The Lonely at the end of MAG139; it left him a mess:

(MAG139) ARCHIVIST: … If I… Knew… what his plan was; if I knew what Peter was doing; if I just– [WHISPERING] … Can I…? [LOW RUMBLING SOUND, STATIC RISES] [CRIES OF PAIN] [VERY SHARP SQUEAL OF DISTORTION STEADILY RISING] [NOISE OF SOMETHING-OR-JON FALLING] [SQUEAL OF DISTORTION DECREASES] [MUMBLING] End… E–end recording…!

(MAG140) ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] Yesterday, I tried something I… [INHALE] I–I deliberately tried to… Know something, like I did in the coffin, but… there was a lot. Too much [SIGH], and I… BASIRA: What did you find out? ARCHIVIST: [SNORT] Nothing. There was “too much”. BASIRA: You don’t remember any of it? ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] You drink the whole contents of a bar in three seconds, you don’t remember what the merlot tasted like. [SIGH] It just… hurt.

… and a predatory monster: it was around that time that he absolutely traumatised Jess Tyrell, and then cornered Floyd for his statement less than two weeks later (although there had “only” been three victims in the previous three months). Whatever state Jon will be in in/after The Lonely, it won’t be pretty… and it will fall either on Peter, either on Martin, either on whoever is in Jon’s way after he comes out of it. (……………. And there is all the Institute staff up there, who just got preyed upon by two Hunters, full of fears. Does The Eye’s “protection�� extend to non-Archival staff…? Because I’m also really, really worried about the survivors, given current circumstances…)

Given how Elias laughed triumphantly right after Martin was sent into The Lonely, that was the main goal/hurdle to reach – but technically, Peter had done that For Free with Brian in MAG100, and Mordechai Lukas had also very spontaneously punished Barnabas that way. Was Elias’s laugh caused by his win against Peter, then, because he’s That Petty? Why such an elaborated scheme to get Peter to do that…? Is it because Elias tends to have way more fun than strictly necessary, or was Peter personally reluctant to send Martin in there…? Or was it necessary to make it happen in the middle of the Panopticon…?

- We don’t know (yet) whether or not Peter has been around for very long at this point (though he’s expecting to live long according to MAG134: “Martin… it’s going to be decades, if not centuries, before I get another chance to bring Forsaken into this world. Your last Archivist saw to that. […] The point is that, yes, obviously, if I last that long, I’m going to try again.”), but assuming that he’s had a human-like lifespan so far, how could you Do That to a baby, Jonah. I’m still screaming over Elias’s delight:

(MAG158) PETER: No! That’s not– You can’t– ELIAS: You’ve lost, Peter. Admit it. [CHUCKLE] He played you like a… like a cheap whistle. PETER: No! Shut up!

Because it was??? Such an awful jab: * Making fun of the boatswain’s call from the Tundra.

* Shakespeare ref I think???

GUILDENSTERN: But these cannot I command to any utterance of harmony. I have not the skill. HAMLET: Why, look you now, how unworthy a thing you make of me! You would play upon me. You would seem to know my stops. You would pluck out the heart of my mystery. You would sound me from my lowest note to the top of my compass. And there is much music, excellent voice, in this little organ, yet cannot you make it speak? 'Sblood, do you think I am easier to be played on than a pipe? Call me what instrument you will, though you can fret me, yet you cannot play upon me.

(Pipe’s back.)

* nsfw call-out; rude thing to say about your (ex?)husband’s performance in bed, Elias; also that’s tmi.

- I’m gonna miss Peter if he gets obliterated like Breekon, but AOUCH, he began the episode SO HARSHLY:

(MAG158) MARTIN: … Mm. PETER: Is everything alright, Martin? MARTIN: Nah, it’s fine. … Don’t particularly like it down here. PETER: Ah, yes. Of course. Hard to trust the doors, I imagine. MARTIN: [BREATHLESS CHUCKLE] Yeah, well, everyone else seems to these days, so…! PETER: But she’s still the same corridors, I suppose. [INHALE] I’m sure– … what was his name? … Tim! Tim would– MARTIN: I’d really– … rather not talk about it, Peter. […] NOT!SASHA: Who let me out? [SILENCE] Don’t be shy. I just want to say thank you. [SILENCE] All right, have it your way. Now, if you’ll excuse me: I have some unfinished business. [MENACING SATISFIED LAUGHTER] [WEIRD SCUTTLING MOVEMENT] MARTIN: [RAGGED BREATHING] Th–th–tha–, that was, hum… PETER: Yes! MARTIN: [GULP] And it’s– it’s going to… PETER: Make sure everyone is too busy to follow us. They’ll be fine. … Probably.

Triple combo, right in Martin’s trauma. The one time he was trapped with Tim in Michael’s corridors at the end of season 2; gratuitous Tim mention that Martin didn’t want to hear; freeing the Not!Them, who had terrorised Tim&Martin even before they had learned that it had actually killed Sasha… aouch. Was Peter being shitty on purpose, to destabilise Martin, or was it really just little things that he said and did without thinking about how it could make Martin feel…? He had been very interested in Martin’s feelings recently:

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

So it could have been to test his apathy…? But aouch anyway.

- I loved his voice SO DAMN MUCH at that moment:

(MAG158) MARTIN: And you need me for this? PETER: Correct! Without a connection to The Eye, any attempt to use it would likely end… very messily indeed! But thankfully, it just so happens that you hold such a connection. MARTIN: So that’s it… Both “lonely” and “watching”. PETER: You must admit you’re the perfect candidate.

Because. Yeah, it was summing him up well. Saying atrocious things with a cold cheerfulness, absolutely unconcerned.

(- I think it’s safer to assume that Peter was a sore loser there:

(MAG158) PETER: Then do it, Martin. [UNFOLDING POCKET KNIFE?] We’re the same, you and I; we don’t need anyone else. Watching from a distance, that’s always who you’ve been. Haven’t you enjoyed it, these last few months? Drifting through the Archives, unseen, unjudged? You’ll like it in there. I promise. MARTIN: … Yeah. Yeah, I think I would. […] PETER: But you do serve The Lonely. MARTIN: Oh, I’m getting there, but if this is the final test or something? Then bad luck. The answer’s still “no”. [FOOTSTEPS] PETER: … No. No! This isn’t fair, do you have any idea what you’ve done? You knew, he must have–

But I also kind of want to think that he had grown a bit fond of Martin and was genuine about wanting to share his patron / giving Martin a life that Martin would find some comfort in? >> Not good for Martin but. Somehow, it’s even sadder for Martin if Peter’s words really were just that empty, to ensure he would win a bet?)

- Hhhhh, we knew that the Not!Them was still… there, since Leitner had explained it to Jon:

(MAG080) ARCHIVIST: That thing… Is it dead? LEITNER: Unlikely. Whether something like that can actually be destroyed… It is trapped. I, I hope for a very long time.

But I really wasn’t expecting to see it again!! Somehow, Elias had told the Team that Leitner had killed it (MAG092: “It finally tried to kill John. Then Leitner killed it. Then I killed Leitner. And I believe that brings us up to date. More or less.”), so was it a conscious lie, a slip of the tongue, or was it that Elias didn’t know that it was actually still kicking back then…?

* Leitner was suspecting that the Not!Them was actually trying to find him when it was wandering in the tunnels:

(MAG080) LEITNER: The “Not!Sasha” had come down several times. I suspect it was almost as curious about me as you were. Perhaps it thought you might have better luck flushing me out.

… but UHOH. Was it actually trying to find the Panopticon, already?

* I still miss Sasha, and I’m SAD, and Martin’s shattered breath and Jon stuttering to explain what it was broke me:

(MAG158) DAISY: What the hell is that thing? […] ARCHIVIST: Do you remember what happened to Sasha? BASIRA: That’s the thing that took her? ARCHIVIST: It was trapped in the tunnels, it– Martin. Something’s happening down there.

Because… Sasha… And of course, for both Daisy and Basira, it’s just a dangerous monster, it’s not a creature who also killed a friend; they weren’t around back then, they never knew Sasha. But for Jon&Martin, it’s… a reminder of what they’ve lost…

* Vindication: the Not!Them had mocked Jon about how he wouldn’t survive to witness The Unknowing, and AHAHA.

(MAG079) NOT!SASHA: You’ll miss The Unknowing, of course, but you wouldn’t understand it anyway.

Guess who missed The Unknowing in the end. (Gertrude had mentioned that avatars tended to fade or go erratic after a ritual attempt, but given that the Not!Them hadn’t participated, will it be affected…? As we’ve seen, Jared was fine.)

* I don’t think that the Not!Them will be trapped again, unless it’s thrown into the coffin, and I don’t think that the Hunters would be enough to kill it… so either it’ll flee, taking a new victim, either Jon will destroy it like he did with the Dark Sun, maybe…?

- I’m… heartbroken about Julia:

(MAG158) ARCHIVIST: What… Daisy, are you–? BASIRA: Shh! [GUNSHOTS, MUFFLED BY THE DISTANCE] [FEMALE SCREAMS] ARCHIVIST: Oh no… BASIRA: Stay here, both of you. I’ll check it out. [MORE DISTANT GUNSHOTS] […] BASIRA: Looks like two people. An old guy– DAISY: And a woman with a scar. ARCHIVIST: Oh, God, now? Why now?! BASIRA: It’s probably not a coincidence. From what I saw, they’ve been toying with the rest of the Institute, but it won’t be long until they’re all dead or escaped. […] TREVOR: [IN THE DISTANCE] Jooooooonny boy! [CACKLES] JULIA: [IN THE DISTANCE] [CACKLES] We want to make a statement! […] JULIA: [IN THE DISTANCE] Ha! You see that, old man? TREVOR: [IN THE DISTANCE] Told ya. They’re all monsters in here.

Because she sounded absolutely gone. Trevor had pointed out that ~the lines got blurrier every day~, but Julia was younger, had been a Hunter for a shorter amount of time and… there were her life circumstances, the fact that her father had done horrible things to try to get her mother back, and had tried to protect her from all of The Dark stuff…? It’s really sadder in Julia’s case, because it gives the feeling that that cycle of violence was absolutely inescapable – that Julia’s only options were either to die as prey, killed by Darvish, or to become the mindless predator. Julia&Trevor attacked the Institute (… well: basically launched a terrorist attack against it; they had mentioned it was “full of monsters”, it was a cleansing and/or toying with innocents) and, even if “best case” scenario and there aren’t any casualties, that’s still tons of people traumatised for life. How could Julia even come back to normal after this, when she’s this far gone…?

- TT___TT Archival Team sharing information and (snappily) discussing about what to do…

(MAG158) BASIRA: So Elias left it? ARCHIVIST: Or Martin. O–or Peter, or… Annabelle! BASIRA: Fine. Whatever. Could be a distraction. ARCHIVIST: Only one way to find out. BASIRA: We don’t have time for this. DAISY: We don’t know that. We’ve no idea what sort of timeframe we’re on. I say play it. ARCHIVIST: Thank you.

… and of course, it’s when everything is going to hell and these three people probably won’t be in the same room ever again (or at least not as themselves).

(- I’M GONNA MISS THESE LITTLE thINGS SO MUCH…

(MAG158) BASIRA: Set up by the door. Try and take them when they break through it. DAISY: Right. ARCHIVIST: Do, uh… do I get a gun? BASIRA: You ever fired one? ARCHIVIST: You never taught me! BASIRA: You never asked. Besides, we’ve got problems enough without– [CRASHING SOUND]

That mix of snappiness and awkwardness and closeness in the Worst Moments…)

- We knew it was coming, but still…

(MAG158) BASIRA: This might be it. DAISY: Basira… BASIRA: Didn’t think it would end like this. [CHUCKLING] You know what, actually I think I did! [GUNSHOTS IN THE DISTANCE] NOT!SASHA: [CACKLING, IN THE DISTANCE] DAISY: [PANTING] Basira… promise me something. BASIRA: What? … No, Daisy, no. DAISY: [PANTING] Mm, Basira… When this is over, you need to find me… and kill me. Promise me. BASIRA: No. No, Daisy, we’ll figure something out! NOT!SASHA: [IN THE DISTANCE] You can’t hide forever, Jon. DAISY: [PANTING] These last months, I… it was always borrowed time. Can’t outrun it forever. BASIRA: Daisy… DAISY: [PANTING] Promise me. BASIRA: … I promise. DAISY: Thanks. [BREATHLESS] Now, run…! BASIRA: Daisy…! DAISY: [GROWLING] Run! [RUNNING FOOTSTEPS] DAISY: [GROANS] [COCKED GUN] JULIA: [LAUGH] There you are! TREVOR: All alone! [COCKED GUN] Like a pup. DAISY: [BARKS] JULIA: … Shit! [ONE GUNSHOT] [CLICK.]

I’m so heartbroken about Daisy TT___TT It… didn’t really sound like she was agreeing to sacrifice herself to save Basira, but more like The Hunt managed to catch up with her because of the violence, and she only managed to say her last will before getting completely drowned, reverting to the state she had turned into during The Unknowing (when she ripped Hope apart with her bare hands). I don’t think there will be another coffin trip; I guess there could be something because of her ties to the Institute, but I doubt it… Damnit, I was kinda hoping that The Eye would protect her a bit longer despite the threat of hearing her Blood, but no, the big eyeball was absolutely useless ;;

And gdi ;; At least, Tim got to pull the trigger and get his revenge, and Adelard had neutralised a Corruption avatar and freed people from their torment, while Daisy only got caught up (preyed) on by The Hunt without being able to strike back before that. What she was in season 4 wasn’t a waste, never (we got to meet the real Daisy, and she was fantastic!), but it feels so, so sad that The Hunt got her back when it mattered so much to her to never go back to it…

(Obligatory “archive dog!!” joke, though.)

(- Also sad because she was hoping she would be the one to kill Elias, in MAG082, and fucker REALLY has it coming at this point. Violence Is Bad, but still, please, someone, stab him.)

(- And it reaaaally doesn’t bode well for Jon, uh… Daisy had been involved in violence and supernatural stories for 16 years, though, so that’s longer. But the fact that resisting was only a momentary reprieve before being taken in again is nnnnot exactly a good sign for Jon, given how heavily Daisy and Jon had been paralleled as going into withdrawal in season 4, and how Jon was finally pushed to use his powers again in this episode…)

- Also still crying over Daisy and Basira’s goodbyes:

(MAG158) DAISY: [PANTING] Basira… promise me something. BASIRA: What? … No, Daisy, no. DAISY: [PANTING] Mm, Basira… When this is over, you need to find me… and kill me. Promise me. BASIRA: No. No, Daisy, we’ll figure something out! NOT!SASHA: [IN THE DISTANCE] You can’t hide forever, Jon. DAISY: [PANTING] These last months, I… it was always borrowed time. Can’t outrun it forever. BASIRA: Daisy… DAISY: [PANTING] Promise me. BASIRA: … I promise. DAISY: Thanks. [BREATHLESS] Now, run…!

And what it means for Basira orz Either she does it at the end of this season, either part of season 5 will be about finding and killing (the creature that took over) Daisy, uh…? I want to hope for them (since hum, we’re like, back to the end of season 3: the duo shattered, Daisy lost and dangerous) but it already happened once; the biggest difference is that Daisy had managed to get her voice back during season 4, instead of being fuelled by mindless violence like she had been in season 3.

It was also… Daisy going back to the person Basira used to admire, as a fixed point:

(MAG117) BASIRA: But at least Daisy’s coming along. I mean… I know she’s… difficult. Everything they say about her, it’s true, it’s fair. But… she’s solid. She’s a fixed point. And if she’s there, I know exactly where I stand, exactly what I’m doing relative to her. She has no doubts. […] Despite everything she’s done, she’s… she’s still the best partner I ever had.

Daisy, firm about what is happening and what has to be done – even though it’s about killing her.

(I’m also a bit sad that ;; Daisy and Basira had been around for so long, and I really wanted to think they were meant to be interpreted as a couple and/or mutually crushing? But although there are lots of indicators, it has never been made explicit, and now it would only be retroactive…)

- One Good Thing:

(MAG158) ELIAS: I guarantee it won’t be pleasant for them, but I honestly don’t know if their ties to the Institute are quite as strong as I may have implied. You, at least, should be insulated from the fall-out by your new allegiance. Jon… might be powerful enough to weather it. Melanie’s well out of it, so that just leaves Basira and Daisy. And the rest of the Institute, of course, and you can’t tell me you care about them.

MELANIE IS OFFICIALLY FINE!! She really fled the boat before it sank, uh.

- I love that mentioning the use of Ruskin’s The Seven Lamps of Architecture tends to lead to roasting:

(MAG080) LEITNER: By carefully reading specific passages in certain locations I am able to exercise… a degree of control over the substance of the tunnels. ARCHIVIST: I didn’t hear you say anything down there. LEITNER: I said reading. It doesn’t need to be spoken aloud.

(MAG158) PETER: Do you want to see how it works? MARTIN: Uh, n–no; no, I’d really rather you didn’t mess it up– PETER: No, I insist! Watch. [SILENCE] MARTIN: Very impressive. PETER: I’m reading. Shush.

(Had Peter actual trouble with the reading, though?)

- What was Peter trying to say re:Tim?

(MAG158) PETER: But she’s still the same corridors, I suppose. [INHALE] I’m sure– … what was his name? … Tim! Tim would– MARTIN: I’d really– … rather not talk about it, Peter.

It was thematically fitting because Tim had been down in the tunnels a lot during season 3, Smirke’s architecture was his speciality, and he had been trapped in the corridors together with Martin but…? I have no idea what Peter intended to say about him?

- fesdcujheznfds every end of the season has to star Martin with a corpse (or almost), uh. He found Gertrude’s between MAG039/MAG040; found Leitner’s together with Tim in MAG080; ~there was Jon’s~ at the end of season 3 (at least, Martin visited him before season 4, according to the trailer); and now, he got to find Jonah Magnus’s, although not really dead. Martin, you life sucks.

- ;___; Daisy had pointed out that Jon was self-destructive, and… Martin actually wasn’t really good in that regard, uh…

(MAG142) DAISY: Used to see it all the time back in the force, especially with the Section’d. Not like there’s… “normal” trauma, you know? But it’s pretty common. The most important thing becomes control, engaging on your own terms. Even when it’s stupid or dangerous. Anything to not feel helpless. MARTIN: Oh, god… DAISY: And of course, for Jon, there’s survivor’s guilt in there, too. He thinks he’s not human. Makes him very… self-destructive. MARTIN: Yeah, well. We’ve all had trauma.

(MAG158) MARTIN: It’s not him! It’s not anybody, it’s just me. Always has been! I… When I first came to you, I thought I had lost everything. Jon was dead, my mother was dead, the job I had put everything into had trapped me into spreading evil, and I… I really didn’t care what happened to me. I told myself I was trying to protect the others, but honestly? We didn’t even like each other. Maybe I just thought joining up with you would be a good way to get killed. And then… [SHAKILY] Jon came back, and… and suddenly, I had a reason: I had to keep your attention on me. Make you feel in control, so you didn’t take it out on him. And if that meant drifting further away… so what? I’d already grieved for him, and if it meant now saving him, it was worth it! […] So I… played along, waited to see what your endgame was. And here we are. … [SNORT] Funny. Looks like I was right the first time – it’s probably still a good way to get killed.

(Extra-sad re: “we didn’t even like each other” because he still had gone drinking with Basira and Melanie, and he was concerned about Melanie post-MAG106. I mean, yeah, it didn’t fundamentally mean “liking” them but… it was still something.)

* I love that Martin is SO unapologetic about his feelings for Jon, technically, even more than in season 3:

(MAG118) ELIAS: [EXASPERATED BREATHING] … Did Jon put you up to this? MARTIN: You think I’m doing this for him? ELIAS: No. It’s just the sort of half-baked scheme he’d come up with. And I’m well aware that you’ll do just about anything for him– MARTIN: I– ELIAS: –and I don’t need to read your mind for that one. MARTIN: … Do you rea– … Is it so hard to believe that I hate you as well? ELIAS: No. It’s just hard to imagine that you would act on it.

From protesting that he wasn’t doing this for Jon, to saying that Jon was his reason.

* So. Peter was wrong when he had told Martin that

(MAG126) PETER: [CHUCKLING] I had hoped that all this time apart would have given you the space you needed, but… MARTIN: … You said he’d probably never wake up. PETER: And he beat the odds. Which is good. But it does make things more complicated. It doesn’t… actually change… anything.

Jon coming back did change something. And it’s sure not healthy on Martin’s side, but it’s also… still something indeed…? Still better than the nothing he used to (not) have…? But so sad that the way Martin describes it, the way he talked with Jon, it’s really never associated with the idea of constructing something, or a future. Those are very… Lonely feelings indeed? That he’s keeping from afar? (And gdi, I would really want Jon and Martin to finally manage to talk and share, to communicate and reach a peaceful ground? To hear and see each other? But given the circumstances… it probably won’t be now…)

I’m not even sure Jon&Martin will talk before the end of the season, actually? Or maybe not directly to each other – through tape, through written messages could be other options. But on the other hand: Jon’s worry and feelings for Martin have been a major element this season, so… there is probably a payoff coming, rather than immediate and absolutely shattering heartbreak?

- Martin once again confirmed that he has gone dual Eye/Lonely ;;

(MAG158) PETER: But you do serve The Lonely. MARTIN: Oh, I’m getting there, but if this is the final test or something? Then bad luck. The answer’s still “no”.

But I mostly want for him to get back to a state of mind where he would go back to writing poetry?! ;_; Unlikely, I know, but. (And to not harm people to feed… Has he been feeding on himself and his own loneliness, or are we in for an awful reveal about the researchers who disappeared…)

- In the list of people Martin had lost:

(MAG158) MARTIN: I… When I first came to you, I thought I had lost everything. Jon was dead, my mother was dead, the job I had put everything into had trapped me into spreading evil, and I… I really didn’t care what happened to me.

… I’m surprised that Tim wasn’t mentioned at all…? Tim had told Jon that he didn’t feel as close to Martin as he was with Sasha, but I had gotten the impression that Martin did care a lot more about him…? And it’s still a Do Not Talk About Him subject:

(MAG120) ELIAS: Hello, inspector. Martin. I’m… sorry to hear about Tim. MARTIN: Don’t. ELIAS: And Daisy, I suppose. MARTIN: Don’t. you. dare.

(MAG138) MARTIN: I don’t know what he’s talking about when he mentions Millbank. The old prison, I guess? Tim said the tunnels under the Institute were all that was left of it, but… Jon said he’d checked them pretty thoroughly. [SILENCE] [SIGH] I’m not the one who knows all about this stuff…! I wish– … No. No, it’s fine, I’m… fine, I… [EXHALE] I can do this.

(MAG158) PETER: But she’s still the same corridors, I suppose. [INHALE] I’m sure– … what was his name? … Tim! Tim would– MARTIN: I’d really– … rather not talk about it, Peter.

(Plus, when he mentioned “the job I had put everything into had trapped me into spreading evil”, it felt like what Tim had told him back in season 3:

(MAG098) TIM: Look, it’s not that. I… [SIGH] This place is evil, Martin. And I think doing what It wants? Probably makes us evil. And It wants those things to be read. I mean, I’m not gonna stop you, but, at the same time– MARTIN: I– I get it.

So Martin did remember about that conversation, uh…)

(- We knew that the death of Martin’s mother had affected him deeply, Basira had told Jon. And he explicitly said it. But after what Elias told him (and forced him to see) in MAG118, I still would like to hear him describe his relationship to her – how he felt it, what MAG118 changed, if it changed anything…)

(Laughing and crying that Martin “my dad left my family when I was 8” suddenly got two trashdads, who are the worst, and whom he doesn’t want.)

(- Shut your mouuuuth Eliiiiaaaas

(MAG158) ELIAS: You, at least, should be insulated from the fall-out by your new allegiance. Jon… might be powerful enough to weather it. Melanie’s well out of it, so that just leaves Basira and Daisy. And the rest of the Institute, of course, and you can’t tell me you care about them. MARTIN: But of course I do! ELIAS: Do you, though? Do you really care, about any of them? Or is that worrying just simply an old reflex? [SILENCE] … Goodness. Peter has done his work well, hasn’t he? [CHUCKLE]

Who caaaares if it’s a “reflex” and done without conviction!! Doing the right thing just because you think it would be the right thing to do, even though you don’t feel much about it, is still better than doing nothing or doing something awful?? You can still define the kind of person you want to be through you deliberate actions?? Even if Martin was neutral about it, the fact that he still did his best to prevent Peter from hurting Daisy or random staff members in MAG144 matters, shut your mouuuuuth damniiiit!!)

- It’s both hilarious and heartbreaking that Martin’s reasons for getting wary of Peter were:

(MAG158) MARTIN: When you started talking about The Extinction, though… You… had me, actually, for a while. But then… [CHUCKLES] then you tried to make me the hero, tried to sell me on the idea that I was the “only one who could stop it”. And that? That never sat right with me. I mean–I mean, lo–look at me! [SNORTING] I’m, I’m not exactly a, a “Chosen One”. But, by then, I was in too deep. So I… played along, waited to see what your endgame was.

… Because 1°) Peter, as a self-centred Lonely avatar, thought that insisting about how Martin was a Hero and Necessary would do the trick, 2°) Martin was too self-deprecative for this. It also echoed Jon’s interrogations at the end of MAG139, about why they had all been “chosen” – Jon just accepted that it had been the case, or some bad luck, while Martin… immediately questioned the idea. (And gdi, Martin!! But Jon chose you at the end of the very same episode… ;;)

- Peter!! Peter, you knew that a knife wasn’t fitting Martin:

(MAG039) MARTIN: I used to carry around a knife, but I started thinking that, well, cutting into someone laterally wasn’t really the most efficient way to get them out, and besides which, they seem to be quite slow burrowing in a straight line so, given their size, th–the corkscrew just seemed to be the better option. … Look, you guys got to go home every day, okay. I didn’t!

(MAG108) PETER: Martin, isn’t it? MARTIN: Y–you, don’t move! Em, don’t you come any closer, okay! I’ve got a, I’ve got a knife! PETER: Do you? That… that would seem widely out of character, from what I’ve been told. MARTIN: Okay, but okay, step back.

(MAG158) MARTIN: … I’ll need to kill him. PETER: Yes. Don’t worry, though. I brought a knife. […] Then do it, Martin. [UNFOLDING POCKET KNIFE?] We’re the same, you and I; we don’t need anyone else. […] PETER: Martin. What are you doing? MARTIN: I’m… saying no. I refuse! Game over. [KNIFE CLATTERING ON THE GROUND]

If you had brought him a corkscrew, maybe he would have said “yes”.

- I’m still LOVING that deception is one of Martin’s core features…

(MAG056) ARCHIVIST: It was in the old document room, just next to where you used to sleep. Your handwriting, “If the others find out I’ve been lying”. Lying about what, Martin?! MARTIN: L– look, just forget about it, okay? Please. ARCHIVIST: I CAN’T forget it! Everyone in this place has so many goddamn secrets, and I can’t trust a word you say! Not about this, and not about Trevor! MARTIN: Jon, just– ARCHIVIST: MARTIN! MARTIN: Okay! Okay. Okay. Just… just… promise you won’t… fire me. ARCHIVIST: … fire you…? Fine! MARTIN: I… … I lied on my CV. ARCHIVIST: … What? MARTIN: I don’t have a Master’s in parapsychology, I don’t even have a degree. When I was 17, my mom, she… had… she had some problems, and I ended up dropping out of school, t– trying to support us. I tried everything, but no one was hiring. So I… I just kinda started to lie on my applications, sending them out to just about anywhere. For some reason, my lie about parapsychology got me an interview with Elias and, and then a job here. M– most of my employment details are made up, I’m only 29! ARCHIVIST: Right, I… uh… I believe you!

(MAG120) ELIAS: I must admit I’m impressed, Martin. I knew you were all planning something, of course, but I didn’t believe you specifically would have the… er, capacity for boldness that you displayed. It took me quite by surprise. MARTIN: You didn’t just see it in me? ELIAS: Honestly, I didn’t look. For all my power, I will admit I am not immune to making the occasional lazy assumption. I presumed that I knew you thoroughly, but by the time you demonstrated otherwise… well. There was simply too much to keep watching over. I only have two eyes, after all.

(MAG138) MARTIN: … What? [HUFF] That’s it? No, no monologue, no mindgames? You love manipulating people! ELIAS: That makes two of us.

(MAG158) PETER: The Extinction is coming. MARTIN: Oh, I’m sure it is! But that’s not what this is about, is it? This isn’t about “saving the world” – it’s all just some power play against him! I might not know exactly what’s going on, but I don’t think I want any part of this. However much I want to kill him… I’m out. PETER: But you said– MARTIN: Honestly… I mostly just said what I thought you wanted to hear. PETER: I see. … This is your doing, is it? ELIAS: [AUDIBLE GRIN] Hardly…!

Not sure that it’s enough / the gist of it for Web stuff but. Still.

(And I’m REELING that Elias sounded almost proud of Martin with that one.)

(And that their “powerplay” sounds so much like foreplay.)

- Martin was so good when spitting at those annoying disgusting old men and their weird games?? And then:

(MAG158) ELIAS: Peter. [PAUSE] It’s time. [SILENCE] PETER: … Fine. MARTIN: Great. [VERY SHARP SQUEALS OF DISTORTION INCREASING] Now, perhaps if one of you, then, can tell me what– [SHARP SQUEALS OF DISTORTION REACHING A PEAK, BEFORE DECREASING] ELIAS: It won’t be that bad, Peter~ [CHUCKLE] You’ll see. Now: he’ll be here soon, so you can leave, or… PETER: Oh no. No. I’m not gonna make it easy on him. You haven’t won yet. ELIAS: Your choice. Just make sure to leave the door open.

… that mood whiplash of Martin beginning to ask for answers and being heartlessly wooshed as if he had barely spoken since the start.

- Meanwhile: Jon has been so, soooo vulgar this season!!

(MAG131) ARCHIVIST: … Shit.

(MAG154) ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] [SOFTLY BUT WITH FEELING] … Fuck.

(MAG158) ARCHIVIST: You gotta be fucking kidding m–

Next corpse coming back to life is your grandmother, putting soap in your mouth. (I do love how that last one managed to… somehow make the scene a bit lighter because Jon was losing it, it was too much.)

(On a sidenote: Daisy, of all people, has never said “fuck”, only “shit”, I think? So she can’t die or lose herself there!!!)

- Why did Jon blank out after hearing Gertrude’s tape?

(MAG158) [CLICK–] BASIRA: Right, so what does that tell us? [SILENCE] Jon? … Jon! ARCHIVIST: Uh, y–yes, sorry. Right, just, uh… uh, the Panopticon. It’s the, uh…

Was it because of the shock of hearing her murder live? Was it because he noticed something off? Was it already Elias’s ~call~? (There was no static, though.) It felt to me like he was piecing something together…

- Peter & Martin had climbed the Panopticon’s central tower fine; meanwhile, Jon…

(MAG158) ARCHIVIST: [LABOURED BREATHING] ELIAS: Ah, Jon. I was almost worried…! You found your way all right. ARCHIVIST: [PANTING] Yes. … Ye–yes, I did… How?

… was out of it. Someone has been smoking too much lately, hm? (Do you still have your lighter on you, young old man…?)

- I’m ;; worried over Jon ~appreciating~ the beauty of things made to hurt:

(MAG143) [CREAKING, SPARKLER-LIKE STATIC SATURATING THE RECORDING.] ARCHIVIST: It’s… beautiful…

(MAG158) ARCHIVIST: [STATIC] That’s the Panopticon… ELIAS: My, you have grown. Yes. A masterpiece, isn’t it? ARCHIVIST: [EXHALE] … Y–yeah. It is.

(And it feels extremely Hannigram, uh.)

(Oufttt over the fact that Jon’s powers provided him with the answer he sought right in front of Elias… Elias had told him that he had to find/get his answers himself, back in MAG092, and it’s… happening… Elias had been so glad/proud when Jon had let it slip that he Knew Gertrude and Gerry had worked together, back in MAG102, and Jon had so many moments of Knowing in season 4…)

- Still not over the fact that Jon still asked Elias questions assuming he would get answers? ;;

(MAG158) ARCHIVIST: [SEETHING] Where is he? ELIAS: Peter Lukas has him. Cast him into The Lonely, and with every passing moment, he gets further away from you. ARCHIVIST: How do I bring him back? ELIAS: From out here? … Impossible. ARCHIVIST: … You want me to follow him. […] … How do I do it?

Jon sounded absolutely unsurprised when he reached the Panopticon, so… he had probably guessed that yeah, anyway, Elias had planned things, that he was doing exactly what Elias wanted, and that it was a price worth paying as long as it was aligning with his own interests (saving Martin)… Even at the cost of opening this damn inner door:

(MAG127) ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] It’s… hard. It’s like there’s a–a–a door, in my mind. And behind it, is… i–is the entire ocean. Before, I didn’t notice it, but now, I know it’s there, and I can’t forget it, and I can feel the pressure of the water on it. I, I, I can keep it closed… but sometimes, when I’m around p–people, or–or places, or… ideas, a drop or two will push through the cracks, at the edges of the door. And I’ll… know something. BASIRA: … What happens, if you open the door? [SILENCE] ARCHIVIST: I drown.

(MAG158) ELIAS: [INHALE] Wasn’t too long ago. And I’m sure traces of their passage still remain. ARCHIVIST: [INHALE] ELIAS: Just open your mind. ARCHIVIST: [EXHALE] ELIAS: Drink it all in. Know their route, [VERY SHARP SQUEALS OF DISTORTION, INCREASING] and simply… follow it. ARCHIVIST: [LOUDER BREATHING] ELIAS: Very good.

It had to come, “Jon opening it to save someone/Martin in particular” had been my first thought when Jon had described it to Basira but gdi!!! Still painful that it’s happening ;; It has been such an awful and painful string of hoping he could save people and/or refusing to allow people to die, only to have to deal with their losses…

(MAG047) MICHAEL: [DISTORTED LAUGH] Yes… Ah… Did you notice which door she left through? ARCHIVIST: Yes… It w– MICHAEL: [CHUCKLES] ARCHIVIST: … wait! No, there was– MICHAEL: There has never been a door there, Archivist, your mind plays tricks on you. ARCHIVIST: Let her go. MICHAEL: [DISTORTED LAUGH] “No”? ARCHIVIST: Get her back here! MICHAEL: Are you going to attack me?

(MAG098) MARTIN: Yeah, we talked. Not long, he– Y’know, I think he thinks that the distance keeps us safe, you know? Like, like, if he just makes sure that we’re not involved, we’re somehow fine. TIM: He’s an idiot. Look, we didn’t know what that door was, and it still trapped us. Ignorance isn’t going to save anyone. MARTIN: No, I mean, you’re right, I guess. He was… Y’know, we know about Sasha now, and… he said he doesn’t want to lose anyone else. Like, y’know, it’s his fault.

(MAG118) TIM: You knew I might not be coming back! ARCHIVIST: I knew none of us might be coming back, and I’m not gonna let anyone get killed for nothing! TIM: Oh, except for those people in there! ARCHIVIST: They’re already dead! TIM: Not all of them! ARCHIVIST: I am not losing you as well!!

(MAG158) BASIRA: … Goddamnit. Jon, go; we’ll keep them busy. ARCHIVIST: What…? No! I– BASIRA: Don’t argue, just go. NOT!SASHA: [IN THE DISTANCE] Jooo–oooon~? ARCHIVIST: … Fine. Just don’t die. DAISY: Go.

And I hatehatehatehate that Elias absolutely played on the fact it was so personal for Jon, how his feelings could be a tool to get him where he wanted…

(MAG158) ELIAS: Peter Lukas has him. Cast him into The Lonely, and with every passing moment, he gets further away from you. ARCHIVIST: How do I bring him back? ELIAS: From out here? … Impossible. ARCHIVIST: … You want me to follow him. ELIAS: No, Jon. You want you to follow him.

That emphasis on “you”…

(I still want to be a bit cautious before labelling Jon’s feelings as romantic, as long as it’s not confirmed-confirmed? But hhhhh yeah, no, Jon is desperate and longing and crushing awfully hard, uh…)

- There is still Helen around, and Annabelle hasn’t revealed herself either so… at this point, what is she waiting for or expecting…? Is she planning to go against Elias, is she planning to use him, or are they in this together…? If Elias indeed needed Jon to experience the Fears first-hand, The Web pushed in that direction with the coffin (leaving MAG130’s tape and leading Jon towards The Flesh, too); it was also The Web who made Oliver give Jon his statement to push him to wake up – and Jon ~made his choice~, and Jon waking up gave Martin a ~reason~ to not follow Peter entirely… It seemed like The Web and Elias’s interests got suspiciously aligned this season…? What Elias said about The Web was non-committal:

(MAG148) BASIRA: Or that we were being stalked by some freaky spider woman. Don’t tell me you didn’t know about that! ELIAS: Ah, uh, y–yes… W–well… To be honest, I’d… advise you to leave that one – well alone. BASIRA: Oh yeah? ELIAS: Uh! Look, look, look. I’ve… been doing this a long time now and, if there’s one thing I’ve learned about The Web, it’s that it plays its own game. All you can really do is… hope it doesn’t get in the way of whatever your plan is. Because the Spider usually wins…! Assuming you have a plan.

(“I’ve been doing this a long time now” fuuuuck oooooooffffff!!)

And he can’t have been unaware of Jon’s personal history with The Web, nor of all the spiders in the Institute, so…? Are they in it together, is he dual Web/Beholding, is he being made to ignore The Web, or has he taken precautions to not suffer from any interference…?

(- Other potential players: The Extinction and… the tape recorders (if they’re not Web :w). A tape turned on during Gertrude’s murder scene, and that was the first time we’ve seen it happen in Gertrude’s era. The recorders also behaved quite strangely with the Panopticon, because… there was one with Martin&Peter / we switched to Jon&co / we went back to Martin&Peter&Elias but, when Martin then Peter left, one stayed with Elias – unless Martin planted the same one that had been following him in the first part of the episode, this means one showed up in the Panopticon, on its own. We’re back to Jon’s argument to Tim in season 3:

(MAG114) ARCHIVIST: [SOFTLY] Interesting. What do you think is listening? TIM: What? […] And you know what I think. It’s that… the thing that runs the Institute, “The Watcher” or “The Eye” or whatever. ARCHIVIST: I dis… I disagree. This whole place is a temple to The Eye, Tim, I don’t think the tape recorders make any difference. TIM: [VICIOUSLY] Elias, then. ARCHIVIST: In that case, we’ll stick to talking about things he already knows.

If The Eye was behind them, why record what it’s witnessing anyway?)

(And although Jon has listed Peter, Elias and Annabelle as potential suspects behind the last tapes that were sent to him… we still don’t have any indication of who it is.)

- On the one hand, Peter wanted Martin to be apathetic; on the other, Elias was REALLY glad about Jon being fearful:

(MAG156) PETER: How does that make you feel? MARTIN: … Nothing. [SNORT] Nothing at all…! PETER: Excellent. I’m so proud of you, Martin. MARTIN: I really don’t care. PETER: Perfect.

(MAG158) ARCHIVIST: [LOUDER BREATHING] ELIAS: Very good. Are you scared, Jon? ARCHIVIST: Yes… ELIAS: Perfect.

… It’s especially interesting re:Jon given how Gertrude had a very particular personal relation to fear, Adelard wondering if she was dissimulating or steel-like when it comes to this. Jon appears as a contrast: he fears a lot…

(MAG125) BASIRA: You ready? ARCHIVIST: [DRY HOLLOW LAUGHTER] No…? [SHAKY VOICE] You’re sure you don’t have… restraints, or… BASIRA: You think she’s gonna sleep through being tied down? I’ll try and grab her if she wakes, but… ARCHIVIST: … Okay…! Here we go…! [BREATHES DEEPLY]

(MAG132) ARCHIVIST: I have her voice. I think that should be enough to find her, and I’m leaving my– … I’ll leave it with the tape. I should be able to find my way back to it… I think. Wish me luck…! … Although I suppose if you’re hearing this, then I… I didn’t have any. I don’t know. I’m… I’m scared. [SHORT CHUCKLE] When does the fear go away…?

(MAG136) ARCHIVIST: My– [PAUSE] [INHALE] [SIGH] My memories of the coma are not clear. But I know I made a choice; I made a choice to become… something else. Because I was afraid to die. But ever since then, I… I don’t know if I made the right decision; I–I’m stronger now, tougher, I can… … If I do die, now, or get sealed away somewhere forever… I don’t know if that’s a bad thing. And I don’t want to lose anyone else so, if I can maybe stop that happening, and [DRY CHUCKLE] the only danger is to me, I– I’ll do it in a heartbeat; worst case scenario… the universe loses another monster. DAISY: That’s messed up. ARCHIVIST: [LOW SELF-DEPRECATIVE DRY LAUGHTER] … Yeah. I suppose it is. DAISY: Did you know the coffin wouldn’t kill you? ARCHIVIST: I– guess I thought imprisonment wouldn’t… wouldn’t be as bad as it was. DAISY: [SHAKY SIGH] ARCHIVIST: And it’s a lot easier to make that choice than it is to actually… endure the result. You might have noticed when I was in there with you, I… I had regrets.

(MAG139) ARCHIVIST: Why were we chosen? Agnes was created – crafted with a specific purpose so finely tuned that even a grain of uncertainty threatened the entirety of her being. [CHORTLING] But I’m so full of doubt it feels like there’s no room for anything else, and… I’m sure Martin is the same…! Is there “destiny” here? B–bloodlines and… prophecies, or did we just… stumble into this? Maybe we’re the opposite of Agnes; maybe our doubts are exactly what we need. I–if that’s the case, I’m a… an amazing chosen one. … [LONG EXHALE] Don’t know how that would work, though.

(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.

(MAG150) ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] It’s just… The Web can be subtle, you understand? MELANIE: And? For all you know, its plan is to paralyse you with indecision…! ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] MELANIE: Leaving you… sitting here, terrified that… everything you do is somehow all part of its Grand Plan… And who do you think that fear is gonna feed? ARCHIVIST: Yes, well. [INHALE] You are… not the first, to make that point.

(MAG152) ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] … When does it stop? HELEN: What? ARCHIVIST: The guilt… The misery… All the others I’ve met, they’ve been… cold. Cruel. They’ve enjoyed what they do. When does The Eye… make me monstrous?

… and that seems to be good for Elias’s plans/Jon’s self-realisation as an Archivist…? Season 4 feels like it’s been a slow game of completing Jon’s set by giving him incentive and by fostering his worry: removing the Slaughter’s bullet from Melanie, making him contact a Flesh avatar in his search for an anchor, making him go down in the Buried coffin in the hope of saving Daisy, making him see a Dark artefact after making him think he would be stopping a ritual). Elias has never been about reassurance; quite the contrary, he always pushed Jon to fear the worst from things, and it was once again the case when he pointed out how dangerous going into The Lonely would be. There is still the question about whether it was about the physical or intellectual experiences, or both. Jon got an insight of the way the Fears worked, from the inside, and Elias had pointed out in the past that that is apparently his function:

(MAG092) ELIAS: [SIGH] What are you? ARCHIVIST: I… The Archivist. ELIAS: Precisely. It is your job to chronicle these things, to experience them, whether first-hand or through the eyes of others. To simply be told, well…

Jon has now been in contact with all the Fears except The Lonely, getting an internal view of them and how they operated:

* Corruption through Jane Prentiss’s attack (and her written statement).

* Spiral through Michael’s and then Helen’s corridors (and Michael’s live-statement).

* Desolation through Jude Perry burning his hand (and her live-statement).

* Vast through Mike dropping him (and his-statement).

* Hunt through Daisy, then Julia&Trevor, chasing him (and their live-statements).

* Stranger through the Not!Them’s deception, the experience of The Unknowing (and Breekon’s “extracted” statement).

* End through his own almost-death and unwillingness to die, becoming something else instead (and Oliver’s live-statement).

* Slaughter through Melanie’s violent urges (plus the statement she gave of her injuries?).

* Flesh through Jared taking two ribs (and Jared’s live-statement).

* Buried through his rescue attempt in the coffin (no direct avatar here, but a few written statements).

(MAG132) ARCHIVIST: I know… DAISY: Th–the way out? ARCHIVIST: No… I know where we are! There isn’t no out, not here. This is… this is forever deep below creation. Where the weight of existence bears down… This is The Buried, and we are alive… There isn’t even an up. … Oh god… What have I done! What have I done…

* Dark through directly staring into the Dark Sun (and Manuela’s live-statement).

* Web through the Leitner as a kid, and Annabelle making him doubts about influences and control (and Annabelle writing her statement for him).

(MAG147, Annabelle Caine) “Unless, of course, none of it was intentional. None of it was planned. The Mother is the fear of manipulation and lost control made manifest. So perhaps it is our fear that projects Her influence on everything that happens. Like the mind, retrospectively assigning reason to our actions, so we fit whatever occurs into the neatest pattern we can, and declare Her web both intricate… and complete. Perhaps She is no more active than Terminus – simply sitting and revelling in the inevitable cascade of paranoia, as those who hold Her in special terror cocoon themselves in red string and theory. Or perhaps I am simply telling you what you need to hear, in order to behave exactly as the Mother wishes you to.”

Still missing The Lonely both as a live-statement and/or statement from an avatar, as a live experience, and as a scar, but now… he’s getting there. (And missing The Extinction, too, which could factor in, but Jonah is probably still following Smirke’s List of Fourteen? Smirke’s architecture was based around the concept.)

But I’m especially curious about the scars in the context of Jonah body-hopping: Robert Smirke had mentioned he feared death, a lot of people had pointed out that Elias tends to avoid getting directly involved, and… that could plainly be a way to avoid the risk of dying himself? And what if what he needed was a body who had physically experienced the Fears…? I’m mostly thinking about it because:

* James Wright was Head of the Institute for 23 years (1973 to 1996); assuming that Jonah had body-hopped right when “Elias Bouchard” became the next Head, that would be 22 years in that body as of now. So might be time to get another one.

* If Jon is meant to be the next host, you Know that Jonny would have a blast voicing Jonah-in-Jon: it would a big challenge voice-acting wise (making a character we used to hear through another VA absolutely identifiable), and also probably a great deal of fun (especially making everyone upset).

* Cursed thought of Unlikely Team during season 5, consisting of Martin (who still thinks that Jon is somewhere there and can be saved), Basira (who is both tracking Daisy and uuuh trying to prevent the apocalypse) and pothead!Elias being back in control of his body (and also uuuh convicted of murders and technically escaped from prison) going after Jonah!Jon. It sounds like if The Eye is attempting its ritual, it’s coming now, but. Lovely thoughts.

(I do subscribe to the idea that the Actual Elias Bouchard might still be somewhere: being stuck and condemned to watch the atrocities committed by Jonah (… he knew about poisoned drinks) sounds like the Most Beholding Thing ever, and there is still the question of how Jonah had been feeding. What if his Fear battery was always within him?)

- Still two episodes, and everything already sounds like The Worst Possible? Martin has been whooshed into The Lonely, while being susceptible to it; Jon opened his inner door and might be drowning; Daisy fell back into The Hunt; Elias is winning and The Eye’s ritual might be on the verge of happening; the Institute has been attacked and there are 4 avatars/monsters fighting inside of it. It might be the worst for Martin to have to deal with the fact that, if Jon is getting lost, it would have been to save him (was it a nice bonus for Elias, as a punishment for Martin’s schemes at the end of season 3…? I’m wondering, because I also feel like Basira is being “punished” through Daisy in a way, and Elias could be petty enough to join utilitarianism and personal grudges: getting Trevor&Julia in at the right time to cause chaos and make Jon panic, and also to force Daisy to snap and make Basira lose her….)

- ;; Elias sounded absolutely in control, so… yeah, we might be losing Jon as we just lost Daisy – but at the same time, if it’s already happening with her, things could go differently for him…? Jon had already gotten out of The Buried, and we still don’t… really know how – we know about elements who contributed, but not how it worked exactly. Was his anchor truly his rib? Was it the statements, through the recordings? Did the fact that Martin had been the one to put them there help? Did the Web lighter help…?

- OKAY, so the knife has been explicitly mentioned, heard… and clearly dropped on the Panopticon floor:

(MAG158) MARTIN: I’m… saying no. I refuse! Game over. [KNIFE CLATTERING ON THE GROUND]

… So there is a good chance that it’s gonna be put to use: either by Elias on someone (Jon or Martin), eeeeeeeeeeither someone using it on him.

……………… and as much as Violence Is Bad, I really want to hope for Basira, there. It’s around the anniversary of her involvement with the Institute (she went for the worms in the Summer, then gave her first statement to Jon on September 19th, 2016), Elias played with her all through season 4, sending her after dead-end leads to get Jon into the coffin, then pushing her to go with Jon to ~stop The Dark~. She got Daisy back only to lose her again. Sure, she got to punch Elias (and it was a m a z i n g), but… she didn’t manage to achieve anything, to get a “victory” in any way, this season? Stabbing wouldn’t be a good answer, but Basira mostly cared about Daisy, and Daisy is now lost to The Hunt – if killing Elias and/or Jonah’s body means insta-death for all the assistants solely tied to The Eye, that… might be a price she would be ready to pay right now. Although there is still the matter of Daisy (given that she went full Hunt, would she still be killed too?).

(… Also, given how Elias has been very casually sexist/classist recently?

(MAG148) ELIAS: Ah… [HUM] I’ve… always thought that a man’s eating habits were… his own private business.

(MAG158) ELIAS: Oh, you needn’t worry. Two against one? Hm! I couldn’t stop you if I wanted to. I just wanted to be here at the end. Can a man not watch his own death?

I really really want him to get backstabbed by a female character that he would have failed to factor in as an actual threat.)

(Other option is that Elias could try to bribe her through the hope of getting Daisy back again and ;; That might be a weakness for Basira, uh…)

- Bonus for Basira: she pointed out that Jonah’s body-hopping could be like Rayner’s. And she directly witnessed Rayner’s death and the weak spot in the action – Rayner was vulnerable when he tried to get into a new body. If Jonah is precisely trying to do that… it could be the right moment to strike (for Basira, Annabelle, Helen…). Grabbing an opportunity on the moment was also her Thing, according to Daisy:

(MAG142) DAISY: When Basira and I were partners, I’d see this happen sometimes. She can read a… situation like no one I know, always seems to know the right move, but for all her research, she never wants to put a plan together. I think she just hates all the unknowns, the… variables. [SIGH] Contingencies. If she spots an advantage, she’ll… grab it, and trust herself to figure out the details as she goes.

- The summaries are usually non-canon but this one, uuuuuh, this one felt Very Specific…

“Case #0182509-A Original recording of events leading to the disappearances of Jonathan Sims, Martin Blackwood, Alice Tonner and Peter Lukas.”

* So: still in 2018 (the Institute is still in its 200th year anniversary), but in September. We broke the curse of an assistant dying every Summer, at least? Since it’s Autumn already.

* Side “A”, so next episode could be the B-side…? Or will we get it much, muuuch later…

* Alrrrrrrrrrrrrright so, Jon, Martin and Peter in the Lonely + Daisy is probably not recognisable anymore. That leaves Basira and Elias, but the summary makes it sound like it was written a bit in the future so… Are they not listed because they’re still accessible at this point in time? … Or because their corpses have been found?

Anyway. Another timeskip coming between season 4 and season 5, uh…? ;;

I Don’t Like This Title, but then, every Monday/Tuesday/first part of Wednesday is a variation around that. Could be about The Extinction, could be about Jon completing his “set” with the Lonely (scar and scare-wise); could be about Martin when having the original team in mind; could be about Basira given how we left her at the end of MAG158; could be about The Watcher’s Crown; could be about surprise!Annabelle or surprise!Helen; could be about Jonah getting another body; could be about The Lonely’s ritual; could be about Jon-and-Martin… in any case, sob. I mentioned a few but I don’t even have any conviction/feeling, Fear-wise?

#aND DONE #that's. that's a long one and?? i technically rushed??? and gave up on a few things/*tried* to go quicker??#that episode was Like That.#long post/#tma liveblog #mag158 #tma season 4 #the magnus archives

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