#Sketchy EXE has malfunctioned | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

namjoonchronicles · 6 years ago

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beautiful, tragic | yoongi

✿ pairing: yoongi x you ✿ genre: domestic, yoongi as a husband, fluff, suggestive content, slight smut ✿ words: 4k ✿ summary: it’s hard sharing your musically talented husband with the world, and this is your story.

Stay home. He says. Watch the house. He says.

You’re stuck, scrolling idly on your phone with your drama on Netflix long abandoned on your 85” Sony LED Screen, equipped with the sound system that would surpass Dolby Surround System if it ever went on competition with each other.

Apart from the boring international celeb news, who broke up and who got divorced, the politic scene is too awry for you to read and you were not prepared for that headache so early in the day. One particular headline caught your attention, though.

Billboard Judge, Music Producer Min Yoongi Purchases USD$3M UN Village Villa In Cash.

Excuse me, what?

Screenshot. Clicking the home button on your phone, you tapped on Kakao Talk app next and ignored the messages from your ex-classmates group that has mounted to 120 unread texts and straight to ‘Fish’ ID.

You had sent him the screenshot of the news clipping, and proceed to multi-text him the following:

????????? Why wasn’t I informed?? Yoongi. What did I tell you about purchasing things without a proper discussion? Behind my back?? The nerve?? Bitch, square up when you get home. I also have watched five episodes without you. Fuck you.

Delivered. The anger had made you toss your phone to the side on the couch. This stupid huge ass house he is never in. You grind your jaws, glaring at your wedding picture on the top corner of your wall. And he dares to buy another one. You can hear him whispering a silent fuck from the distant. Fuck--is quite right, Yoongi. Your phone dings a new message in less than twenty minutes. He had machine-gunned you with replies that your phone had trouble keeping up with. You crossed your arm, scoffing at the sight of his name blinking on your screen. Oh, now you want to call me.

Volume : 70%, 75%, 85%. Netflix show has dimmed the sound of his calls and desperate texts.

He just never learns, does he? You’re starting to feel like he feeds on these little arguments like ginseng soup--has to have it when he’s unwell or deprived of something. Now that’s something you didn’t share with him. Yoongi’s work prevents him to be home as often as he’d like, requires him to befriend sketchy men and women with hidden agendas, they also constantly separate you and him--all this, you know and understood from the beginning. But like flying kites, when kites with strings tend to stray too far, and stretched too long, it snaps. Especially when you’re the one at the end of the string, holding him down to earth with a promise of a golden ring, always the one waiting for his return. When the blizzards come, the storm arrives, you gripped tighter, but there’s no guarantee that he felt the tug even if he should.

Here lies his expertise on words. Here lies the test of loyalty. Here lie your trust and his devotion. Love is a gamble, isn’t it?

It was supposed to be a surprise :( I wanted to take you there when I come home, but the news spoiled it :( :( Good news is, it’s not fully furnished and we can go furniture shopping… I know you love decorating the house :) I’ll forgive you if you watch the same 5 episodes with me later Babe? :( :( You’re still fetching me at the airport right? Right, sweetie?

He sends a screenshot of his expected arrival time, and you skimmed pass the message with a blank look. You tap the camera icon and took a selfie of your middle finger.

Fish was immediately typing…

OK, but it’s difficult with jeans on.

You gawked as you realized that he was talking about fingering you. You snarled against the screen and tapped video call button.

But it was declined. And he replied immediately.

Can’t. In a crash meeting with the staff.

You put your phone close to your lips and tapped voice recording icon. And Yoongi knows better than to play it in the midst of a meeting. You’re roasting him and for that, he’ll keep for his lullaby on the way to the airport later with his good headphones on. He gave a goofy smile on the screen when you replied with middle-finger emoticons. “God, I love her…” he stares fondly at your ID.

Flight JN1741 from Amsterdam arrives at Incheon International Airport on 2:00 PM. Passengers begin to rise from their seat before the ‘fasten-your-seatbelt’ sign was turned off. Already, Yoongi’s massive entourage are receiving calls within the moving but landed airplane. His staff is dependable but workaholics, like he is. He was just worried that his wife won’t show up because she’s mad. But he’s also certain that she will be there at the arrival. He likes that you make him nervous this way. He likes that he could mean everything to the world, and has his words as law to others, but won’t necessarily have the same effect on you. He loves the fact that you keep him on his toes and make him chase. He also loves the fact that he knows you’ll be waiting at home where he left you as he works.

Loving and having are different things.

Yoongi of all people knows the constraints of having a serious relationship in his hectic life will be hard to manage. When he couldn’t meet his lady love, he relies heavily on her profound loyalty and his blinded trust. God knows that both of you tried. Both of you really tried to keep the passion alive, never to fizzle out. But distance could make or break a relationship--and Yoongi really wanted this. This battleground he chose to live in. He was lucky to have the best of both worlds. Most couldn’t experience that. To him, the game is only over when the other stops playing.

A conversation is a conversation, even if its a fight.

He refastens his black facemask, his black hoodie and stood up as the manager asks him whether he needs a ride home or not. The 40-year-old man walks away once Yoongi said that his wife is fetching him.

“Also, hyung...can you bring the iKey to the Apple Store I bought it in? It had malfunctioned again. I left the warranty card inside the pack,” Yoongi politely asked. “Every single time we leave Amsterdam… Yoongi what did you do with it?” The manager pulls the bag out the compartment above the head. “Work I guess…” Yoongi shrugged and fiddled with the straps of his black backpack.

Most of the passengers had left the airplane. But before Yoongi leaves with his manager, something metallic clinked on his sneakers. His manager crouched down before he did and picked the object up.

“Can’t forget the ring when you’re meeting the wife...take it from me,” his manager returns Yoongi’s ring to him. “It keeps slipping out my finger, I think I’m losing too much weight,” Yoongi chuckled short and put them back on with a small wiggle. “VIP arrivals that way…” His manager pointed the way out, “Tell her we missed her around.”

Yoongi nodded, feeling rather bashful and shy. That’s right. You used to work in his entourage as medical staff. Until he had you hitched and away from the stressful job that costs you your mental health. Now, you review staffs’ health records from home and frequently, his. You fell sick prior to the world tour he led, so that’s why he had you staying home. Not that you tailed him often when he works. He just prefers you doing your own thing. His work requires a lot of movement while you had to be static in one place to finish your writing or reading. You were that hot white coat bearer with a sexy full-rimmed glasses and spoke medicine parseltongue. Every time you share a piece of medical knowledge with him or explain a medical condition, Yoongi drools like a lovesick puppy dog inwardly. He can’t wait to have you explain liver cirrhosis everytime he brings up how much he drank when he was away. That was his version of dirty talk.

But where’s my lady love? Yoongi hums. Scanning the room for any glimpse of you. Could you be standing nearby a coffee vending machine, or would you be in convenient stores searching for a mint? Or are you strolling idly in the expanse of the airport in slow, relaxed strides?

No, you’re walking straight towards him with your arms crossed from the entrance, your hair flew back at every trudge you make to close the distance between him and you. He fumbles with the strap of his bag, and a bit slouched to the side. Having to push his head back to see your face from the beak of his black cap and hoodie, while you draw in, closer and closer.

Your hand came in contact with his at the handle of his roller bag first, before you leaned up to his ear and he lowered himself down, “You and I have a lot of things to talk about.” You snatched the roller bag from his grip roughly and Yoongi watched your back getting smaller and smaller as you stormed away. He pouts at the sight and gripping his bag strap tighter, firmer. You passed an acid glance once and expect him to follow closely with a glare. Yoongi’s pouty lips slowly form a smirk and a naughty cock of his eyebrow. He really enjoys it when you’re angry.

The trunk opens with a hydraulic rise, and he helped you carry his own bag inside. It slammed shut and you dashed to the driver seat, knowing that he is often exhausted after a long flight. Engine purrs on, and your focus was interrupted by the sound of his seatbelt clicking. He’s here. He’s really home.

“Do you want to eat anything? Some fast food or anything like that?” You asked. “Yeah, but she’s driving…” He glanced outside the car window like he had said nothing explicit.

“Ha, very funny…” the car reversed and exited the parking lot with no hiccups, but the situation isn’t going to be smooth on the inside, “Don’t think that snarky remarks will get you anywhere near this coochie.”

Yoongi let out a tiny scoff to the window, shifting in his seat as the view of the city he calls home, come to sight. Miraculously, he has made it home within a month. Although the reunion was bittersweet and that he landed on soil knowing that you’re mad at him, he is well-informed by your passive behavior when you missed him the most. That much is true. And it needs no extra explanation.

How was Amsterdam?

“Cold. Great sound system… decent steak,” he answered. You smiled to yourself, noticing how much you missed his aloof response. Few words, big heart. That’s Min Yoongi for you.

“I think I made a great steak a few days ago…” you took the chance to brag on yourself and Yoongi switches to the side where you sat driving. Hands between his knees, eyes doe and soft.

“Tell me more about what you did…” he said, in a gentle voice.

“Nothing much. I proofread a medical article, cooked for myself, write a bit, stare at the 2 selfies you took last two years. Sniff your hoodie, organize your shoe collection, vacuum GeniusLab2, visit Holly at your parents. I made him this cute ass leash that I knitted on my own. He had stomach flu, so I took him to the vets. He’s okay now, though.”

“I wanted to video call more, but I didn’t have the time…” Yoongi complaints.

“You don’t remember?” You crumpled your face at the road before glancing briefly at him. You could see Yoongi’s confused expression. Head tilted to the side, his mouth opens and closes several times without a word uttered out. He really didn’t remember.

“Baby bear, you called me twice in a drowsy state…” you offered a line of explanation but the contortion on his face suggests that he requires more, “You drunk video call me to tell me you had a sandwich and fell asleep before you could tell me what was inside… Three days after that, you called me again but you were already snoring when I answered.”

“I don’t recall…” he hums.

“Anyways, whatever… that’s cute though. Also, this 3 million villa you bought, what’s the story?” you snapped, at the same time, you turn at the corner of the city smoothly.

“It’s not a penthouse like you said I shouldn’t get, so technically, I didn’t go against your words,” he sang. “How on earth did you carry 3 million in cash?” You scowled. “With many briefcases,” he retorted with a thin smile.

You pressed your lips together to stop yourself from laughing because you wanted to be focused on being serious and mature. But the quick reply had you snickering. Such a matter-of-fact answer. His face lights up at your response.

“You said that we’re going to furniture shopping. Do you even have time to do that?” you stopped at the security cottage and flashed your residence card on the pad the divider retracts open.

“I knew you were going to make a dispute out of it. So I made sure Namjoon allows it,” Yoongi laced his fingers together, and made a dark chuckling sound.

“What did you do to him this time…” you felt uneasy already. The last time he wanted a day off, Yoongi hid Namjoon’s passport so the trip could be delayed for a day or two. He purchased a movie on Netflix and wanted to watch it with you.

He simply gave you that creepy smile and you already know.

“You put laxatives in his drinks, my god.” “It is my most brilliant plan of all.” “Yoongi!” “What...he said he was constipating. I am doing him a favor.”

Why wouldn’t he constipate from the amount of caffeine he had been consuming. You thought.

Everyone’s definition of success is different. Everyone’s definition of married life is also different. The married life you shared with Yoongi was entirely on a different level. There are no guidelines for marrying a music producer this world famous. So you focused on being a wife. If everything else in his life isn’t normal, then being married is.

The moment he steps inside the home he shared with you, you noticed he stifled a yawn. His eyes falling droopy at the sight of his long sought after nest.

“I’m going to get a late lunch going, and you can go lay down on the bed in your indoor clothes…” “No, I want to help in the kitchen…” “Look at your eyes, they’re barely open… go rest.”

But he wanted to unpack because he got you something.

“It’s a cross-stitch table runner…” he lays his head on his palm, curled on his side, watching your big grin as you unravel the precious gift. He remembered that you wanted to buy this the last time you were there. He got the correct design and correct color too.

“You got them custom-made,” you gasped excitedly, and then shrink your voice at him, “Thank you...it’s so pretty.” Pulling the runner into a hug while Yoongi chuckles sleepily.

Yoongi was less interested in his stories and more engaged in yours. All his relatives that he can call strangers because they rarely meet, his family members that have seen you more than they’ve seen him. He silently is grateful for you being here, being the glue between his family and close friends, an invincible knot that keeps him grounded and gave him the sense of belonging.

He drifts mid-through your stories and latest gossip. As you sat on the floor next to the bed, unpacking his luggage one-by-one, you no longer hear his response. You glanced to the side and saw him sleeping soundly. You could only imagine how many hours he could when he’s away in a foreign country. Yoongi somehow can appear to be sleeping but is in fact, listening to all the conversations surrounding him. You and he share that talent. But this time, he slept for real--the energy replenishing, body rejuvenating sleep. There’s soft snorings and little shudders from time to time. Your gaze fell from his fringes to his brows, down the slope of his nose and his doll-like lips.

Last clothing to be unpack looked familiar. It was yours. That’s endearing. He always packs one clothing that belonged to you. You know, for when he ‘misses his wife so much he could die’ moments. You don’t know when he snuck them in, but it’s probably when you’re busy at the living room, or the bathroom, making sure he didn’t forget anything. The luggage is taken away from the bedroom and into his home studio, where it stays until its service is required again--which you suspect, won’t be long.

You slid the blanket above his shoulder, and tuck him in like you would a child. He looks so tired and it breaks your heart that he has to leave again. It’s like a cycle. At least you can see him eat today, with your own eyes, so let’s get started with the lunch.

Nothing extravagant. Just broiled spinach, fermented white baby radish from last week, and warm chicken soup with ginseng to help him re-energized. But he isn’t awake yet. That’s alright, you can reheat everything when he’s up. He still needs his much-acquired sleep. With that thought, you disappear into the bathroom and undressed. Sweating from cooking, body sticky with remnants of watery expels urged you to shower before the sun is completely down. You don’t usually shower this early, but with Yoongi around, you felt self-conscious. He doesn’t know this, but you will always want to smell nice for him. Isn’t that the very core of being a wife? Being extra hygienic for the hubby? To keep him interested? Especially Yoongi, because he is constantly away and accompanied by many attractive females?

You discarded the dampened shirt outside the door of the bathroom and swung it shut as gently as you can. Off goes the bra, then the panties. The shower head expels drizzling liquid, the steam floats up to the ceiling and the glass door get fogged up from the heat. Water pools at your feet as you readied your face underneath the shower to come into contact with the sprinkles. The pleasure of a simple shower after a good sweat is ultimately unmatched.

So endorsed in your time alone, Yoongi pushes the door wider. He had come awake when he heard you turned the knob shut. He discarded his pants on the way, and pulled his black shirt over his head, charging forward like a soldier on his way to a battleground he intends to win. Then he discarded his last piece of clothing, his boxers. Afterward, he trudges into the shower cubicle where you were standing, facing away from him. “You thought I was too tired for a shower session with you?” His voice deeps lower than usual, as he snakes one arm around your naked waist, skin to skin, Yoongi sunk his teeth on your shoulder and you turned around wearing a big smile to greet him. “No I thought you wouldn’t be able to handle any sessions with me…” you smartly replied. Yoongi smiled into the kiss that began innocently enough and gradually increase in intensity and power as the seconds passed. Your arms slick against his shoulder as he held on palm flat on the walls of the shower, he stands directly underneath the shower head now--refusing to let go of your lips even when you tap out for a breath. A seasoned rapper’s lung capacity isn’t a shy away from a Navy diver. Provided with the long abstinence and accumulating want, Yoongi isn’t just going to stop here in the shower, best believe, he is going to continue making love to you in all the rooms available in this house until he’s finally sated.

His handprints on the fogged glass door is significantly larger than yours. The slippery sound of sliding skin filled your ears, and your strangled moans could only suggest an impending euphoric sensation you had longed for, since the last time he’s here. And Yoongi is a determined soul. The thrusts are languid and deep. From the way he buried his face in the crook of your neck, eliciting heavy desperate pants implies that he had been imagining this on his lonely nights for too long. His touches were too precise and calculated, coming from a veteran lover who knows his wife’s body like the back of his hand. Yoongi’s glazed orbs that greeted you in the midst of the steamy love-making, felt foreign yet familiar. But his lips that conquered yours right after the heaty glance was definitely, without a doubt, Yoongi’s. The time apart had made him a stranger to your body, and the passion that almost fizzled out from the distance had reignited to another degree.

“Fuck I miss you,” he breathlessly says against your ear. You didn’t stutter or faltered back into the lust like you used to when you first dated him. Instead, you smiled into his confessions and bit your grin--no longer shy to show how much you love having these moments with him. More, you encouraged him with your touches and sweet mewls.

I like the whispers you added at the end. She says.

No matter what the public critic might say, Yoongi’s only verdict comes from his wife. His true achievements and outcomes of his work rely heavily on what you may say. But your words can be sarcastic and Yoongi doesn’t like having to guess what you truly meant.

“You always say something like that…” “I don’t know what you want me to say,” you shrugged as you scooped out a bowl of rice for him, “I like the whisper part and that’s the truth.” “How many times did you listen to it… be honest,” Yoongi took his bowl from you.

You tipped your eyes up to the ceiling and clicked your tongue. Somehow Yoongi caught the expression.

“Are you serious…” he began, eyes following you as you pulled the chair next to him out, “Okay, fine. Do you listen more of Jimin’s Promise or my collab song?”

You added a long hum, not intending to give him the answer he wants to hear. “Technically, Jimin’s Promise came out first--”

“--don’t talk to me,” he darted.

Instinctively, you covered his knee with one palm, to soothe him. But of course, Yoongi wouldn’t let you console him that quickly.

“I spent nights writing that song while touring… Am I asking too much of you, to just listen to me more than you do Jimin’s, but no. Ultimately, I’m always the second choice for the industry AND my wife. Fine, I don’t care...I don’t want to care anymore. I worked so hard to earn money for you to spend, and all I’m requesting is that you be my harsh critic but you’re apparently too busy to listen to my songs. Hmm, I see how it is.”

“To even things out, you never told me you’re releasing a song…” you shrugged.

Yoongi set his chopstick down, clinking while you continued eating.

“To top it all, you watched dramas without me,” he tipped a glass of water into his mouth like he would a cup of soju, “Our drama.”

You knew he is just picking fights with you because to him, a fight is also a conversation.

“Gosh Alexa, this is so sad, play Seesaw,” you exclaimed with a forlorn sigh, “What do you propose I do? Wait for you until you come back? The second season would have begun by the time you returned, Yoongi… You have cities to tour, fans to meet and stages to check, and what about me? I have this house, Netflix and the chili plant outside. You’re being a little mean to me right now… my priorities aren’t always you, you know.”

Yoongi was deafened by the last sentence you said, that he couldn’t hear the rest of the off-topic conversations you promptly added after it. You didn’t seem to notice that you’ve hurt him. That’s the inspiration behind his rap verse ‘my razor tongue wife with a stone in her hand’. He likes that you’re honest and has trained you to be tougher, but the blade he sharpens strikes him once in a while when needed. He doesn’t apologize, he makes amends with his actions. He tries to be ultimately present when he’s here. When he’s home.

Like now, he sat on the floor, with a writing pad while you washed dishes.

“Turmeric powder. Can you check if it’s on the grocery list?” You raised your voice a little so he could hear from the living room. He puffed his cheeks with his cap turned backward, scanning down the awfully long list of things you needed to get for the family dinner this weekend.

“Nope,” he writes them scraggly underneath your neat writing. Then he heard you listed a number of things and gifts you planned to get before the weekend comes. Presents for your parents, and his; his nephews, his older brother’s birthday that he himself didn’t remember, a flower bouquet for his aunt who just opened a restaurant. He made a mental note to transfer a large amount of money into your account later.

“Is the villa far from here?” you asked him, wiping your kitchen stove down, spotless. “Not very… you’ll see when you drive there later,” Yoongi murmured to his chest, filling colors on the heart he drew on the grocery list, next to “Yoongi’s wife grocery list”.

“Also, I wanted to get grilled beef slices in that restaurant…” Yoongi promised to take you to the restaurant you had been wanting to go to, in two days time. Until a message from his manager came.

“...it would taste so damn good…” your mouth waters at the thought of it but when you looked across the counter at Yoongi perplexed gaze sitting on the floor there in the living room, you somehow caught what he didn’t, or rather--couldn’t say. That look could only mean one thing.

That the luggage you pushed into his studio is going to get another traveling sticker. That the restaurant trip is not going to happen. That you will be strolling aimlessly in this huge house. That you will be visiting the villa he bought alone. That your wedding picture and ring will be the only proof that you’re somehow married.

To the worldly loved, worldly known...the beautiful tragic, Min Yoongi.

Because he couldn’t keep his promise, you had him doing something similar to it. Peeking at his bobbing head, through your iPad playing Candy Crush, you smiled to yourself.

“Make sure you get all my toenails trimmed and neatened,” Yoongi lifts his head up short, sitting on the floor, with your heel digging onto his thigh as he nodded. “What color do you want for the polish?” He asked, getting cross-eyed as he hones the sharp edges of your nail, shorter.

“Your hair color right now…” “Babe, this is out of context…but” he dragged, “remember the voice note you sent me during the crash meeting with the staff?”

“The one I cursed at you? Yeah...why?” “It turns me on,” He hides his smile by lowering his face from you. What a strange yet tantalizing thought.

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ncfan-1 · 7 years ago

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ncfan listens to The Magnus Archives: S1 EP011 (’Dreamer) & EP012 (‘First Aid’)

In which I have a lot of questions, and I feel like I’m not the only one.

No spoilers, please!

EP 011: ‘Dreamer’

- The imagery of this organism like a strangling vine choking the city is nice and visceral and creepy.

- So we’ve established that there’s a limit to what sort of cases the Institute will take on. It’s nice to establish this. I do wonder about stuff like that in series like this, because if the Institute treated seriously every fever dream they were told about, they’d never get any work done.

- “I know how that sounds.” Yeah, if someone said that to me, the first thing I’d assume is, uh, very different from what you’re telling us, Antonio Blake.

- Wait, Antonio’s ex is named Graham? I… I compared the statement dates of this one and ‘Across the Street’, and I think this is in the right timeframe to be right around the time Graham from that episode was replaced by not-Graham. Obviously, if this is referring to a different Graham (and yeah, I know I said not to rely on coincidences, but I think the same given name isn’t as much of a link as the same surname would be, unless the surname was, like Smith or Jones or Patel) I’m following the wrong thread, but if it is the same Graham, then wow, there’s some nasty subtext to that breakup.

Of course, I’m not sure this is the same Graham we’re talking about. Graham Folger had such a pervasive air of isolation around him that it stretches my suspension of disbelief a little to believe he had a boyfriend. But I suppose it would explain why he was often out of his flat, and it’s not like having a boyfriend would have helped him much when he was at home. Alone.

- I winced when Antonio detailed how he didn’t wake up from the dream when he fell from the roof of Canary Wharf, and didn’t wake up when he experienced the phantom pain of the landing. I’m terrified of heights, and the mere act of dream-falling would have been enough to wake me—and indeed, I think it would have been for most people, if they’re having normal dreams. But this isn’t a normal dream.

- I wonder if Antonio’s fear of taking the elevator up to the twenty-third floor is supposed to be indicative of a premonition involving an elevator malfunction.

- So the death of the head archivist at the Magnus Institute triggers some catastrophic change in supernatural activity in London? Or was there some drastic change, and the Institute—and Gertrude—was at the epicenter of it?

- “And the bridge was knotted high with the flashing vines.” I checked, and a cursory search with a few different search phrases didn’t show me any statistics that indicate that a statistically large amount of people jump from London Bridge in suicide attempts each year. If this was taking place in San Francisco and we were talking about the Golden Gate Bridge, I’d have no doubt that that’s what the vines are about there, but here, I’m not as certain. It might be a combination of suicides and car crashes, or, if the vines have been accumulating for centuries, it could just be the accumulated deaths of centuries upon the structure.

- The Magnus Institute, as described… is not entirely dissimilar from my own workplace in appearance. My workplace being a combination of administrative offices and archive for a local heritage center. Where I work as an assistant archivist. …You might see why this disturbs me a bit.

- And now Jonathan suddenly has so many questions. As he should. I can understand his gut response being to assume that it was a prank, and can equally understand his being freaked out upon discovering that no, this was probably not a prank.

- So Jonathan doesn’t know exactly what happened to Gertrude, and didn’t even know she was dead when he got the job? His comment about asking if she was available to give him some job training, I think, confirms something I was wondering about—whether or not he had a great deal of experience as an archivist before this. He sounds fairly young when he’s reading the statements (and when he gives his assessment of them it almost sounds like he’s trying to make himself sound older than he really is) and his seeming inability to understand that it would be better to get the hard copies of the files in chronological order before trying to digitize or record them were making me wonder. Jonathan, buddy? I hate to say this, but unless you pull some archiving info out of your head to wow me, your assistants may be better at this than you are. Yes, even Martin. Possibly especially Martin, given that he seems to have been working with the Archive in some capacity since 2010.

- Yeah, Elias sounds sketchy.

- So Tim’s the only one of the assistants you trust not to pull a prank on you? I guess I’ll have to file Tim away as the serious one.

- “But if anyone comes in ranting about dreaming my death, then I very much want to hear about it.” I’m just trying to imagine Jonathan’s possible conversation with Elias after this. Especially considering how high-strung he seems to be.

Jonathan: Hey, I just read a statement about some guy predicting Gertrude Robinson’s death in a dream. Elias: Don’t worry about it. Jonathan: But the statement is dated to just before she died. Elias: Dude, it’s not your business. Jonathan: It’s not my— You didn’t even tell me how she died! She could have overdosed on heroin at my desk for all I know! What else aren’t you telling me? Elias: Don’t worry about it. You know it’s all head-in-the-sand management around here—or did you not figure that out when I dumped you in a disorganized Archive filled with thousands of incomplete case files that hadn’t been organized according to any system, with only three assistants and no other help, and without giving you the slightest warning about the way Gertrude was running the place? I mean, if that didn’t tip you off that I’ve got no interest in giving you guidance of any kind, then I really don’t think there’s any hope for you. Jonathan: *not-so-internal screaming*

Friendly reminder that this is the kind of assignment that can make people start fantasizing about killing their boss.

EP 012: ‘First Aid’

- Yeah, so I have a new favorite episode. Already. I know; I’m fickle.

- I can speak to emergency rooms never really being empty, no matter the time of night. I had to go into the emergency room at three in the morning, once, and it was in a small hospital in a rural area, and me and my parents still weren’t the only ones in the emergency room. It wasn’t full by any stretch of the imagination—again, small hospital in a rural area—but there were other people there. There was also an asshole doctor who didn’t want to take seriously the idea that I was in any real pain or medical danger, despite the fact that my lower lip had swollen to about five size its normal size and was starting to split open and leak pus.

- So we see the weirdness start to infect the hospital early with the too-quiet waiting room.

- It occurred to me that for the two men to have been burned everywhere on their body (the older truly everywhere, and the younger everywhere below his neck where there wasn’t a tattoo), they also had second-degree burns on their genitals. I flinch in sympathy, no matter what these two were getting up to that led to the burns.

- Oh, look, Jared Key’s back! I’m sure that won’t be important at all.

- I do wonder what happened that the burns stopped at his neck.

- And Jared has been tied to eye imagery again. My Tolkien roots are showing, but I am reminded a bit of the Lidless Eye, always watching.

- The bit about everyone in the hospital apart from the patients too ill to be moved disappearing (and later shown to all get up at the same time and file outside to parts and for reasons unknown) is pretty creepy. I do wonder how the patients who could get up and go outside fared, considering it was December in Britain, where it tends to snow at that time of year.

- “It sounded like… the growl of an animal, a rolling, angry sound, and I realized that the floor was shaking ever so slightly.” What was going on with the vending machine could potentially account for this, but I also like the idea of the slowly creeping horror, invisibly stalking the halls of the hospital.

- “And then I saw it. […] But I now saw that the one on the left, a clear-fronted machine that stocked bottled soft drinks, was shaking violently. As I got nearer, I saw why. In every bottle, in every row of the machine, the drinks appeared to be violently boiling. Cokes and lemonades and fruit juices shook and bubble, before one by one, the bottles exploded, coating the inside of the clear plastic front with liquid that still kept steaming and hissing. It couldn’t have taken more than thirty seconds for all of them to pop.”

One: great description. Two: I wonder what the people who restock the vending machines made of this.

- Jared is just as ambiguous a figure in this episode as he was in ‘Page Turner.’ His actions in the events of the episode itself are beneficial to the narrator—it’s possible that he saved both of their lives—but he’s clearly caught up in the affairs of things moving just beyond our ability to see them. Things that are not benevolent. He doesn’t come off as being malicious in personality, but he’s still caught up in a lot of shady shit. And we’ve seen him kill at least once, possibly at least twice if he killed his mother and didn’t just skin her after she voluntarily committed suicide.

- “Something told me if there was a coherent explanation for everything that had happened since the ambulance arrived, then I would be no better off for knowing it.” What, no, listen, Lesere, this is absolutely the time to be asking questions.

- “Better beholding than the lightless flame.” Something to file away, I guess.

- I hope we get more information about Jared later.

- Jared was released into the care of his mother? Wasn’t Mary already dead by this point? Let me check ‘Page Turner.’ *checks ‘Page Turner’* Okay, the events of the episode take place in December 2011, and Mary turned up dead in 2008. So what, is she not really dead? Is the ghost Jared summoned with ‘Key of Solomon’ able to move around outside of their old bookstore/house? Was that someone pretending to be Jared’s mother? Well, at least now I know what Jared meant when he said he’d had worse burns than the ones you get picking up a super-heated metal trashcan.

- And now Lesere feels like she’s being watched. Lady, if I was you, I’d be more concerned by that.

- Yeah, where did they all go? Because the patients who could walk went outside, too, and I feel like standing in your bare feet in the snow for fifteen minutes would be injurious.

- “The feed cuts out for less than a second, and is replaced for a single frame, by a close-up of a human eye staring back through the video feed.” Yeah, that’s… that’s not good. You don’t want these sorts of things to take notice of you.

#ncfan listens to The Magnus Archives

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