#Agnes is a straight up boss

[lilyginnyblackv2]

It's so refreshing to see more anime series have female characters that aren't conventionally thin and not overly sexualize them or make their bodies into jokes.

[dragons-and-dwarves-are-nice]

The Grim Reaper's Guide to Breaking Every Rule of the Universe /// Chapter 3

Ok so I decided to cut down the next chapter so I could get something out before I take a small break, but the next one is over hlaf-way done so it'll be out soon. Enjoy!

Summary: When touring America for the sake of it, you go to stay with your aunt in New Orleans for a while, taking up a peaceful part-time job restoring objects. But a few weeks in, a package arrives containing an old radio that's seen better days, along with a note seemingly written by someone who thinks they could fist-fight the Devil.

What you didn't know, was the hell of a path that was now set out in front of you. Not fist-fighting the Devil, but instead a very smug radio host who would have no problem spending the rest of his days driving you up the walls.

But two could play that game.

Tags: Demiromantic-Asexual Alastor x Demiromantic-Asexual OC/Reader - 1920s/30s New Orleans - fluff - angst - EXTREME slow burn - crack - Violence (It's Alastor what else)

Word Count: 5942

Warnings: Period-typical sexism, Period-typical attitudes towards neurodivergency, Swearing, Mentions of murder. MC'S RACE IS DEFINED DUE TO PLOT REASONS (also because she is based off my OC)

Taglist - comment or message to be added!

Now available on Wattpad and AO3 (please let me know if links aren't working)

< Chapter 2 // Chapter 3 // Chapter 4 >

PART 1: Chapter 3

I'd rather be unemployed.

Fimble-Famble (Definition): A really lame excuse for not wanting to do something. (Noun)

New Orleans, Louisiana, USA – Monday, 9th December, 1929.

“And he told me that we needed the money so I had to take it!” you cried as you slumped in the armchair.

Agnes gave you a look over the top of her glasses, the book she was reading now long forgotten since you stormed in that evening practically red in the face as you ranted to her about the whole radio fiasco. Knowing your tirade wasn’t over, she placed a bookmark between the pages and snapped the book shut, reaching over the arm to place it on the side table with a sigh.

“Well he is your boss.” She explained calmly, and you slumped down further, edging your sock-clad feet towards the fire. “If he believes you can do it, then I don’t see any reason as to why you can’t. Besides,” she gestured to the bag of books by your feet. “Those books he gave you are about radios for beginners – having that knowledge could open up further job opportunities for you.”

All you did was stare at the bag with a frown, before you kicked it over with a whiny grunt. Agnes sighed again.

“You’re going to get rude customers wherever you go, so when you’re the one representing the business, you be the better person and take the challenge calmly.” She pressed, peering over at you with a stern expression.

Silence.

She squinted slightly. “You.. did take it calmly, didn’t you?”

When you continued to narrow your eyes at the ground, she sighed, rubbing her forehead. “Christ, no wonder the twins grew up to be as crazy as they are.” She muttered. “Look, if Mr LeBlanc has asked you to take on this repair, and allowed you to take the pay for the extra labour hours, then I see no reason for you to refuse this man’s request – at least, not without cause.”

You sat up straight, prodding the cushioned arm with your finger. “Oh, I have cause. It is because I hate him!” You exclaimed.

Your aunt tilted her head, regarding you with a tired look. “My lovely, you’ve only had one conversation with him over the phone.”

You pouted, crossing your arms. “Two, if you count the letters.” You growled. “Besides, I think Ralph only told me to take the job ‘cause he knew the guy.” Agnes raised a brow. “I said it was a Mr A. Boudreaux, and he almost choked to death from coughing his lungs out. I told him he was rude to me but he just kept saying that I had to.”

“Did he say please?” she asked, a small knowing smile on her face.

“…Yes.”

“There you go.” Agnes concluded, reaching over to give your knee a few rough but assuring pats. “I don’t know who this Mr Boudreaux is, but if Ralph wants it done, then you can at least try. Besides, I’m off work until next Monday, so I’ll be home for a whole week to give you a hand if you need one – I know how those equations and diagrams make your head go all fuzzy.”

You sighed dejectedly, then gave your aunt a small smile. “Thank you. If anything, I’m doing it for this guy’s mum, not him.”

“Awww, at least he’s sweet to his mother.” She smiled, before turning towards the door and raising her voice slightly. “I do hope I get that treatment when I’m older!”

All she got was a loud farting noise echoing through from the other room.

New Orleans, Louisiana, USA – Friday, 13th December, 1929.

The patio double doors hung wide open as you laid your head on the kitchen table, staring at the technicolour marbling of the setting sun. Tools, wires and random pieces of springs laid scattered on the wooden surface around you, along with several books opened to pages of diagrams you had spent the last week trying to understand but to no avail. You had sent a letter on the Tuesday, informing Mr Boudreaux that your boss had decided that the radio would be taken on.

You refused to call him again, lest you face the humiliation of that faceless smug bastard as he found out that your boss had sent you back with your tail between your legs to tell him that you were in the wrong – something you adamantly avoided stating in your letter, instead half-hinting that Ralph had miraculously recovered overnight (he hadn’t), and took the project on personally (he didn’t do that either).

It also seemed that the good luck spell you and your aunt had performed that Monday evening worked - after you had collapsed on your imaginary chaise-longue and wailed to her about the dilemmas of the day, she had dragged you to her room, going on about how you hadn’t been keeping up with your practice for the last seven months. She made you bring your grimoire from your room, and you both spent around an hour resetting and cleansing energies, also setting up a small bowl of different herbs and trinkets that symbolised good luck, making you put it on your bedside table along with a new incense burner she had bought you. Honestly, if your aunt wasn’t around, you probably would’ve spontaneously combusted by Wednesday.

Agnes had also sat with you every evening, reading through the radio books, and slowly helping you work things out when the words started to blend together and you found yourself trying to read a paragraph as much as you could, but to no avail.

It was times like this when you wish you were back home, when everything was normal. When people weren’t giving lingering looks to your aunt as she traipsed about the village like every other innocent woman. When your uncle was telling you about his family and his way of living in Japan to his sons, and to you whenever you had the time to stop by. When you were treated as a well-respected, intelligent woman, who was freshly graduated from university at the top of her class. Not whatever those men had said to you when they came to your door after the local doctor had practically snitched on you. If only that dinner hadn’t happened. If only your aunt’s maid hadn’t gone snooping where she shouldn’t. Within a year everyone had been torn from each other.

But there wasn’t much time for mourning. You had less than two weeks to get this radio looking like it did when it was fresh off the shelf, otherwise you risk disappointing your boss for the first time ever, which would have you unconsciously doubting yourself for the rest of eternity.

Your head still on the table, you pinched a spring coil between your fingers, holding it up against the orange-purple sky as you glared at its silhouette. Rustling came from beside you as your aunt flipped the pages of the books, eyes flitting between them and the notes she was taking in her notebook.

You felt her glance at you a couple times, until there was a sound as she shifted, then silence. Feeling a finger tap your shoulder lightly, you slowly sat up to face her. She was facing you, an uneasy look in her eye as she took her time coming up with what to say.

“So..” she began hesitantly. “I understand your busy right now working full time at the shop, but since we got the news yesterday that Ralph was getting better, I was going to ask you,” she waved her hand about in thought. “If you’re going back to working only two days, would you consider looking for another job?”

You sat up straight, confusion clouding your face. “You want me to quit on Mr LeBlanc?”

“NO, no no!” she cried, waving her hands to dismiss the obvious miscommunication as she laughed nervously. “I meant look for a second job? I felt awful even thinking about asking you, but with the free time you’ll have, I just think it would make surviving this crash easier if we both had a steady wage coming in? I mean, as steady a wage that two women during this time an get.” She looked at her hands as she twisted them, hesitance and guilt written all over her face. “I want the boys to have a completed education, and it’ll crush me if I force myself to take that away from them.” She turned to you, trying her best to hide the tears threatening to build up. “I know you’re only here temporarily, and I’m not going to make you do anything you’re not comfortable doing, but –” she took a shaky breath. “as humiliating as it is, I need your help.”

Moments passed as you stared at the woman before you. The woman who used to be so full of life and love when she was surrounded by family – who loved the village she grew up in and the city she moved to – who loved the husband she fought tooth and nail to marry – now sat in a house in an unknown city she never asked to be in, a country she never asked to move to. Torn from her sister to an unknown place on the other side of the planet. All because her stupid maid couldn’t keep her stupid mouth shut.

Reaching your arm out, you grasped her hand with your own, waiting until she looked up at you, dark eyebags you never thought you’d see underlining her eyes like a curse. You knew she wasn’t sleeping enough.

“I’ll start looking tomorrow.” You stated quietly but firmly, squeezing her hand affirmingly.

Her eyes glistened as they widened, regarding you with a desperate hope, until she let out a loud sniffle and dropped her head onto your shoulder, trying her best to conceal her own shoulders as they jerked up and down slightly with her light sobs. Resting your head on top of hers, you both sat there in silence as you listened to the clock tick along with your aunt’s quiet sniffs as she attempted to calm herself.

“There’s an assistant’s job going down near the French Quarter.” She muttered. “I know the guy who runs the place and he said he would be happy to interview you?”

You perked up at her suggestion. “Ok, what kind of company is it?” Your aunt remained silent for a moment. “Agnes?”

“It’s a, uhhh… radio station.”

Jerking your head off hers, she quickly sat up as you gave her a deadpan expression.

“C’mon,” she pushed with a watery giggle. “I said you we’re learning how radios work for a repair, and he seemed excited that you would have some knowledge before you applied.”

“Unwanted knowledge.” You pressed. “He’s gonna have to offer a decent salary if he wants me to be within a ten mile radius of a radio ever again.”

Your aunt gave a throaty laugh in response. “Oh, don’t worry, I made sure of that before asking you. I can give him a call if you’re willing to interview?”

Making sure to let out a very long and tired sigh, you looked at you aunt’s pleading face, before slowly nodding. Letting out a cry of relief, she clapped her hands, then grabbed your face as she squished your cheeks, moving your head from side to side as she let out a string of ‘thank yous!’.

Eventually after her tirade of affection, she got up, flipping her twin plaits over her shoulders as she approached the sink, rinsing both of your mugs to make the fifth cup of tea that evening. You went to reach across the table for a book when your ears perked up at the sound of a small ‘psst’ from your right side.

Glancing over, your eyes landed on the archway that led into the hallway, and you were able to see all the way down to the front door from where you were sat, though half of your view was blocked by the underside of the stairs. Peering down the long hall, you leant back in your seat until a dark mop of hair peeked around the staircase banister.

Quickly flicking your eyes to Agnes, you made sure she was still facing the sink when you turned back to make eye contact with Ollie, who was precariously perched on the bottom step as he manoeuvred his upper body to curve around the wooden post to face you. Another mop of lighter hair joined him, as Allie stuck his head between the ceiling and the railing from where he was further up the stairs. Reaching one arm round and the other through the banister posts, Ollie began waving and pointing his fingers about, signing the most ridiculous gestures as he tried to convey a message.

‘What??’ you mouthed silently, frowning as you shook your head slightly in confusion.

At this, your cousin tried again, jabbing his fingers about a bit harder as he repeated the message.

You stared, eyes darting to the side then back again, and you simply shrugged. At this point Allie had thrown a dirty sock at his brother, and you barely heard him hiss at Ollie to make it simpler.

Rolling his eyes, Ollie shifted until he was fully facing you. With frustrated, wide eyes, he pointed at you. You nodded. Then pointed upstairs. You nodded again. Then jabbed his thumbs at his chest as he mouthed ‘my room’, then held his hand up with all of his fingers splayed out, ‘five minutes’ he said silently. Nodding once more, you watched as your cousin froze at the clatter of mugs as your aunt moved about, before quickly darting back round the banister, crawling on all fours as he soundlessly disappeared back up the staircase like some shadow creature along with his brother.

Sighing with a roll of your eyes, you returned back to the mess in front of you, thanking your aunt as she placed a fresh steaming mug of tea down. Picking it up, you bathed in the hot vapours rising from it before sticking your tongue out slightly to test the temperature. Quiet slurping sounded from beside you as your aunt returned to her seat, sipping from her own mug. Glancing at you, she placed it down to pick up a book.

“So,” she said as she casually turned a page. “What did the boys want?”

You took a large sip.

“No idea.”

--

Five minutes later, you took it as a well-earned break, trudging upstairs to see what the twins wanted to yap at you about.

“What’re you two up to now?” You sighed as you pushed open the door that had the sign saying ‘Ollie’s Room’ nailed to it. You looked up, only to stop in your tracks as your eyes landed on the two hunched over a very large corkboard, though, the cork was hardly visible with all the random pieces of paper, newspaper clippings and string pinned to it.

“Whaaaat is that?” You said slowly, brows furrowing as you stared at the board with wide eyes.

Ollie practically crawled his way over to the door, hands on the floor as he lifted a leg like a dog taking a piss, to kick it closed before scurrying back to his twin’s side, who was busy looping glittery wool string around another pin.

“A corkboard.” Allie simply said, not even bothering to look your way.

“I can see that.” You deadpanned, making your way over. “I’m asking what is on it. And specifically HOW you got pictures of dead bodies.” You pointed out, stepping closer to see the black and white photographs of body parts and corpses that you knew definitely shouldn’t be in the hands of your underage cousins. (Though they were 17 now, and clearly the closer they got to adulthood, the more excuses they had to do crap they weren’t allowed to.)

Allie snipped the end of the string, his voice lowering as he regarded you with a dark look. “If we told you, we’d have to kill you.”

“Not if I kill you first.” You hissed, raising a leg to kick him. “Explain.”

“Okayyyyy fine!” he whined, shuffling out of the way to avoid your attack with a pout. “The son of the Sheriff is in our class, and we pay him to enlarge photos from the crime scenes that are suspected to be the Bayou Butcher.”

Your mouth flung open. “You WHAT?!?!” You yelled.

Ollie swiftly raised his hand to cover your mouth. “Shush, if mum hears you, we’re all dead!”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Reaching your hand up, you slapped his away. “We’re all dead regardless!!” You hissed. “Has the thought crossed either of your microscopic brains that what you’ve done is, like – I don’t know – super illegal??”

“It’s fine.” Allie shrugged. “If we guess that someone is onto us, we burn the evidence.”

Your looked between the two of them with wide eyes. “What if mum finds it when you’re both at school? What then??”

Allie sighed. “She won’t find it. Promise.” He stretched his arm up to the top of the board, flipping it over to show another side with random drawings and knick-knacks pinned to it. “We just flip it over and stick it in the wardrobe.”

“What, and pray she doesn’t get the urge to do her usual chores and find it as she’s hanging up your washing??” You contradicted.

“Yea pretty much.” Ollie replied.

You glanced between them worriedly, shaking your head. “You two are treading on thin ice here.”

“Yea yea but we didn’t bring you here to moan about everything.” Interrupted Ollie. “What we were trying to say before you rudely changed the subject was that this was our theory board.”

“Your illegal theory board.” You poked, crossing your arms.

Allie simply frowned up at you from where he was knelt on the floor, and you sighed.

“Fine. I’m guessing it’s about the Bayou Butcher?” You asked, before scrunching your face. “Why am I even asking? Of course it is.”

“Yep.” Ollie replied, his demeanour now more excitable. “Every grisly murder that matches his M.O. – well – our idea of his M.O. Along with every newspaper article about him, and maps of places the bodies have been found.” He explained, pointing each thing out. “We’re currently trying to figure out a potential pattern, but to no avail at this point.” He turned to you with a determined look in his eye – something you should be seeing on an actual detective, NOT your dingbat of a cousin. “But we will. At some point.”

You nodded slowly, absorbing the information. “Ok, so, why am I here?”

They both looked at each other, before facing back to you.

“To help us.”

“Absolutely not.”

Allie pouted. “Aww c’mon! We thought you liked this sort of stuff?” he whined, gesturing at you.

“Yea, from an outsider’s perspective! Not when there’s a potential for the police to come after me! Hell, this Butcher guy could find out you’re onto him and come after you himself!”

They rolled their eyes. “Ok, mum. No need to get your knickers in a twist.” Jived Allie. “We can guarantee you, no-one’s gonna find out.”

You raised an eyebrow. “How, then?”

“By not being stupid?” Ollie said as if it was the most obvious thing.

You sighed, thinking to yourself for a moment. “…Fine.” You held a finger up when their faces brightened. “But if anything gets dangerous, I’m burning it all myself.”

They both nodded excitedly, beckoning you over as they began to explain everything.

You knew at some point they would both be the death of you.

--

New Orleans, Louisiana, USA – Monday, 16th December, 1929.

The sun was still yet to melt the snow when you walked into town with your aunt that morning, arms linked as to not slip on the compacted ice as you both tried to step onto the trams that were miraculously still running. Your arms remained linked as both made your way to a wide, busy street just off the outskirts of the French Quarter, about a twenty minute walk from where the antique shop was.

Mr LeBlanc has graciously given you the day off, as a thank you for running the shop. His cough had receded, and was determined to return to work. Though his wife insisted on joining him in the shop for a couple days to keep an eye on his health, despite his grumbling.

“I can assure you Mr Durham is lovely.” Agnes said with unwavering confidence as she patted your arm with a knitted glove. “The interview should be over in fifteen minutes or so – you’ll be in-and-out before you even realise it, so there’s no need to worry.”

You gave her a shaky smile. “Hopefully. Though I haven’t been in any interviews to know if it’ll go well.”

“It will.” She stated firmly. “Now, do you remember what we went over when answering interview questions?” You nodded, and she slowed you both to a stop. “Brilliant. We’re here.” She gestured up to a relatively tall building, the brickwork looming over you as the wall above the doors displayed the words ‘W.A.D RADIO’ in bright, white paint.

Peering up at the five-storey building, you felt nerves creep up your spine as you began to sweat slightly.

“Oi, look at me.” Muttered Agnes, reaching out to gently take your shoulders as she turned you to her. “No matter what happens in there, it’s not the end of the world, I can promise you that.” She assured. Glancing her eyes across your face, she reached up to straighten the simple blue cloche hat she had let you borrow. “There should be a receptionist at the front desk, just go in and tell her your name and that you’re here for an interview with Mr Durham, ok? I’ll be waiting out here for you.”

The air in your throat stuttered as you took a deep breath, your nervousness a stark contrast to the anger-fuelled confidence you had when answering that phoner. Nodding silently, you returned your Aunt’s smile before stepping away and pushing the door open, hoping the ‘Good Luck!’ she had whispered to you would give some assist.

--

You could sense the receptionist staring at you as you sat staring blankly at the tiles on the floor ahead. Picking the non-existent dirt from under your nails, you felt the sickening nerves in your stomach ease slightly when you had sat on the worn, leather-clad bench, the conversation with the woman at the desk having gone as smoothly as you could make it, luckily without your mind going blank or stuttering on any words.

“Where did’ya say you were from again?” You heard, and you raised your head to see the receptionist leaning on her elbows on the desk, chewing on a pencil as she looked you up and down. “You’re English, but’cha don’t sound quite like those gents on the radio?” she questioned, her slightly nasally voice cutting through the air as she bore you down with her gaze.

You blinked. “…I’m from the North-East.”

She furrowed her brows, the wood of the pencil clacking on her teeth. “North-East a’what?”

“Of England? You know there’s over forty different accents used in the UK, right?.” You explained.

She looked you up and down once again. “Huh.” Was all she said, before she shrugged her shoulders, turning back to the paperwork she was pointedly ignoring, and you returned to fiddling with your hands, now choosing to pick at any loose lint on the hat laid on your lap.

About five minutes later, the sound of shoes clicking against tile tapped against your ears, and you looked up to see a man donned in business attire round the corner. He was rather tall and large, but in a soft muscular kind of way. His murky brown waves fell loosely over his forehead, peppered with streaks of grey along with his thick beard, and he still retained the tan from the summer, but his pale shade of skin was starting to show through again, softening the piercing blue of his eyes.

Speaking of eyes, it didn’t take him a second to scan the room before they landed on you, the cerulean if his iris’ turning an almost baby blue under the lights as they brightened at the sight of you.

“Ah! There you are!” He exclaimed, arms spreading wide to welcome you. “I was wondering when your aunt would drop you off!” His white teeth glistened as he gave a handsome, warm smile. Approaching where you sat, you quickly stood to take his large, outstretched hand, the warmth from him enveloping your snow-frozen skin. “I’m Mr Durham, co-owner of Watson & Durham Radio.”

You could see why your aunt let him take her out for dinner.

--

“– and you’ll be here Wednesday to Friday, from what your aunt said on the phone.” Mr Durham rambled on. You had been interviewed in his office on the third floor, but he had insisted on taking you on a tour around the expansive building. At first, he showed you your potential desk, positioned just outside his office, facing the rows of other desks that spanned the large room ahead.

Now you were taking the stairs to the fifth floor – ‘where the magic happened’ – according to the spritely man.

“These are the radio booths – each host gets their own.” Mr Durham explained, gesturing down the wide corridor.

Strangely, his pace seemed to quicken as he led you past the windows, but you tried your best to peer into each one. Some were dark, as no-one was in. Others were presenting, the ‘ON AIR’ sign above their door glowing bright, the rest were either chatting amongst each other, or alone in their booths, scribbling down in notebooks or on sheets of paper.

“– David, Jeff, Al, Brian, and Ol’ Timmy are all here – ‘cept the rest who have the day off.” Mr Durham listed off, pointing out each man as he rushed you by. “Though-” he lowered his voice a little. “- if you take the job, it’s best we keep you on the third floor.” You furrowed your brows at his odd comment, to which he spotted, quickly giving an explanation. “The boys can be a bit of a distraction you see. Being on the radio means you have to be charismatic, and I want you to settle in comfortably before I introduce you. A few can be quite… nosey. And overwhelming – some more than others.” He muttered, glancing into one of the booths near the end, and you looked over to see the back of a man’s head, his hair styled neatly from what you could see, and you watched as he gently tapped his foot to whatever was playing through his headset whilst he jotted away in the notebook on his desk.

As Mr Durham’s large shadow cast across him, he began to turn his head, and you managed to catch a glimpse of a pair of thin glasses before you walked out of sight of the window.

Thinking nothing of it, you followed the boss round the corner at the end of the hallway, and he continued to tour you around the building, pointing out the odd thing or person here and there.

--

The chill of the winter air hit your face once again as you pushed the front door open, and you scanned the street for your aunt. Glancing to the spot where she left you, a frown crossed your face as you found it empty, but barely a moment passed until your name was called out, and you looked up across the street to see your aunt stood outside the door of a café, waving for you to come over.

Cursing out America for having their jaywalking laws, you quickly searched for a crossing, speed-walking as fast as you could over the road despite the slippery snow as you jogged up to your aunt.

“So? How did it go?” she breathed excitedly as she led you inside to a small table, where there was already a steaming cup of tea waiting for you.

Grasping the warm beverage in your hands, you relayed the events of the last half hour to the woman bouncing in her seat across from you.

“Ok, but, were you happy with what you saw?” Agnes asked once you had finished.

You nodded. “Yea, pretty much.” You answered. “That Durham guy was already talking about me settling in before he offered me the job.”

Her back straightened. “He did?? Did you accept?” She gasped.

Looking at her over the top of your cup, you felt a smile grow on your face. “Mhm, I start Wednesday.”

Your aunt threw her hands in the air. “Oh thank god!” Her eyes darted about in frantic thought. “Oh! We’ve got to go shopping for some proper work clothes for you! Mr Durham is quite flexible with workwear but we’ll still go.” She rambled, pulling a piece of paper and a pen out her purse to start jotting things down, mumbling under her breath. “There’s a shop down the main street, and you’ll be needing some smarter trousers –”

“Speaking of Mr Durham,” you interrupted with a small smirk, watching Agnes accidentally jerk her pen across the paper as her wide eyes looked up at you. “He seems oddly fond of you. He asked me how the twins were getting on at school before he asked for anything about me.”

She froze, and you raised a brow.

“It’s also not like you to let some guy take you out. For dinner.” You added.

She glanced away, then back at you, slowly placing her pen down as she chewed the inside of her cheek.

“It’s not like that –”

“Sure it’s not.”

She sighed your name in exasperation. “We’re both regulars at this café, and we met back in January and have been friends since. Happy?” She explained rather curtly.

You narrowed your eyes at her. “Do the twins know about him? You know how protective they are over you since their dad passed.” You questioned gently.

Agnes closed her eyes, raising her hand to rub at her forehead. “They know, but they haven’t met him yet. Even if it does end up being ‘like that’, it’s been almost a decade since we lost Hiro, and it gets hard trying to raise two very energetic boys and keep a steady roof over their heads.” She stared into her drink with a faraway look as she recalled her late husband. “This world wasn’t built for women to be alone, and as infuriating as that sounds, I’ve been backed into a corner so many times that I only see someone like him as my one ticket out.”

Silence stretched between the two of you, as you let the words your aunt spoke about your uncle sink in. She hardly ever spoke of Hiro, so mentioning him now meant how serious she was.

“Alright.” You said softly, and her head raised to look at you. “I know I have no place telling who you can and can’t talk to, but please make sure both the twins and you are happy and safe. The last thing I want is a repeat of these last two years.”

A dark shadow crossed her face. “Oh believe me, it won’t.” she assured in a low tone. “If I knew the police weren’t going to show, I would have strangled Beatrice before she stepped a foot out the house.”

Nodding, you sighed, finally relaxing back in your seat as a natural silence fell over the two of you. Bringing the tea to your lips, you bathed in the fumes, watching passersby as they fought against the onslaught of the oncoming blizzard, and pondered about the possibilities of your first day at the radio company that sat on the opposite side of the street. Eyes unfocused, you stared blankly at the double doors that led into the towering brick building, thinking about when spring would come round and you could start to wear your summer dresses, but you focused back in when the double doors opened, and you watched as a man stepped out.

You couldn’t see his face, as it was lowered against the wind, but you recognised the mop of neatly styled, dark, brown hair that you had spotted earlier, but that was quickly hidden by the fedora he placed on his head, and your eyes caught the light of his round glasses, as they glinted in the dying light of the cloud-smothered sun, before he turned his shiny heel and strode down the street, seemingly not at all worried about slipping on patches of icy, packed snow.

What caught your eye the most, though, was how insanely tall this man was, and you figured – even at your tall height – that the top of your head would barely reach his nose, even on your tiptoes.

(Though, there was always the option to jump up and collide your forehead with his – if the need arises, of course.)

Unfortunately for you, however, this lanky ladder of a man was crossing the street.

Right towards the café.

Right towards you.

And you were basically turned in your seat to stare the demons out of this guy.

The brim of his hat began to raise, and you practically spun on the spot, the tea in your mug sloshing about, and you came face to face with your aunt, who had clearly seen the one-sided staring match you had had with the stranger.

Feeling the eyes of the man boring into the side of your temple, as you assumed he had seen you move at the speed of light to avoid looking at him, you smiled sheepishly at Agnes, who was not-so-subtly darting her eyes between the two of you.

A few seconds ticked on by at the speed of a snail, and it wasn’t until you aunt muttered a ‘He’s gone’, that you felt yourself deflate in relief, slumping in your chair as you gingerly put the mug in your hands back down on the table. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the back of the man’s trench coat as he carried on down the street out of sight, and you faced the woman in front of you.

“Sooo,” she began as she tried to hide the growing smile on her face. “Who’s that?”

“No clue.” You stated bluntly, eager to move the conversation along, lest your aunt turned into one of the women in your village, who would talk non-stop about their sons and grandsons when they found out you weren’t being courted. Or they would pester your mother about it. Either way, getting married was definitely not on your bucket list – and you wouldn’t be surprised if that lasted your whole life – you were quite satisfied with the thought of surrounding yourself with cats instead.

“Oh nuh-uh.” Agnes deadpanned, wagging a finger. “You don’t get to prod at me about men and not let me retaliate. Besides, Mr ‘No-Clue’ seemed an awfully pretty lad~”

You huffed. “Well I wouldn’t know, I’ve only clearly seen the back of his head, and according to Mr Durham,” you explained, lifting your hands to count on your fingers. “His name could be either David, Jeff, Al, Brian, or Ol’ Timmy.”

She raised a brow at you. “He looked like a David. Either way.” She smirked. “Your mum wouldn’t mind having someone like him as her son-in-law.”

You pouted. “Agnes, please.”

All your aunt did was laugh.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Gonne be uploading some art of MC soon >:))))

I hope you've enjoyed what I've given you so far, see you soon for Chapter 4!!

Please let me know if you want to be added to the Taglist!

< Chapter 2 // Chapter 3 // Chapter 4 >

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[blade-liger-4ever]

I finished The Complete Sir Marrok, and I had this wacko-brilliant idea, at least in terms of a modern day (sort of) take on the tale:

The Complete Sir Marrok in the vein of The Dukes of Hazzard.

Just think about it.

Lady Irma could be some kind of witch from Appalachia, and Marrok could have his own land near the mountain range, and bonus points, he's the local sheriff! Heck, maybe he could even be a relative of some kind of high-class family, and therefore he's got enough ties to higher ups to pull some strings and get the people of his county good food, supplies, etc. It'd totally work!

And somehow or other, Irma gets to turn him into a wolf, though he'd likely have to be a red wolf - but hey, just make him bigger than normal. He'd still stand out to folks when he appears. A red wolf is a rare sight, and a big one even rarer.

Then Irma could be manipulating events, and she'd put in Prior Richard, who'd be our stand in for Boss Hog, as the mayor, while Morcar would be like some uber nasty invertion of Enos, trying to get Agnes (Daisy Duke) from Sir Simon (Uncle Jesse). That way, you could put in (maybe, I'm speaking crazy now) Bo and Luke Duke as the son of Sir Simon and one of them as Sir Roger, though maybe not so much Sir Roger. And you could still fit in Father John and the friars, though I got nothing on who could be standing in for them. All I do know is I'm picturing Jim Caviezel as Father John, and I keep having visions of Nikolaj Coster-Waldau (Jaime Lannister) as Marrok. Maybe Max Charles as his missing son Walter too (I will literally take them in live action or animation as this duo, modern day retelling or a straight up adaptation of the book. Please, I'm begging you, see my vision!)

Anybody else got ideas? Like Marrok's adventures as a red wolf who goes around the county saving people and searching for his son, who got sent out of state but returns as a young lawman?

[adam-sadmon]

So this is gonna be for a very niche intersection of people who follow me but I've been sinking my teeth into Armored Core 6 lately and I thought it'd be fun (since I spend 90% of the game in the garage anyway) to build some AC's around the Thieves, sorta taking notes from their fighting style, their Personas, aesthetics etc.

So to kick us off is a rough draft that's actually become my go-to, main AC for my current NG+ build, High Priestess:

This is a MEAN fucking machine. Taking cues both from Makoto's Fist of the Northstar-style punch rushing in the Metaverse and her real world affinity for Aikido I set out to make an AC that just PUNCHES.

Obviously there's a bit more to it, it's wrll spec'd to with a focus on energy efficiency, recharge and weapon damage so that the dual Wuegers can basically one tap any non boss/AC in a single shot of its primary fire and quickly build up stagger against tougher opponents before overheating, I also threw in the Bullet Orbit to further increase our frankly ridiculous stagger buildup and to supplement our admittedly lacking ammo count and crowd control.

See, thing is, any grunt we touch dies, but they also ear up our ammo which we much through using the charged punch attack on the Wuegers. This, predominantly, is a boss/AC fight build (though I've refused to switch off of it and have cleared a lot of missions on little to no ammo just punching my way through with the laser lance).

SPEAKING OF, the laser lance. I originally wanted this build to be a lot more lightweight and speedy to mirror Johanna but the long and the short of it is having to be up close to land your shots and having to stand still when using your charged Wuegers results in a pretty quick death, and while the more medium-weight build we ended up with is by no means slow adding in the laser lance worked both to add to our punchiness and provide us an alternative means of catching up with our enemies.

That's about all there is to tell on the build front, even beyond being happy to have recreated a good few aspects of the Queen herself this build sorta took on a life of its own, it does more than slap, it PUNCHES.

I went for a colour scheme that's trying (and failing) to evoke the colour scheme of Johanna and I have an alternate colour scheme saved resembling Agnes' if I'm feeling spicy, as for decals I was going to make one of Johanna's face but basically any design not entirely made out of straight lines is a liiiiiiittle bit beyond me.

So yeah, if you are one of the two people interested in this stick around for if I ever make another one, if there's any interest I'll probably put a share code in the comments.

[hes-writer]

Notes on Camp (7)

summary: harry is the head counsellor, y/n is new, the campers are matchmakers, feelings arise and harry regrets his actions

warnings: slight angst, a bit of jealous harry

word count: 2317 words

a/n: greetings from your favourite counsellor!

helpful links: notes on camp (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) | harry styles masterlist | matt murdock masterlist | patreon masterlist | buy me a coffee?

____

Y/N spent the past two weeks having minimal contact with her campers. Not only had she lost the privilege to undertake fun activities with them like wall-climbing, canoeing, and swimming but she mundanely had the opportunity to tuck them into their uncomfortable beds and mattresses when the day was over.  Usually, Y/N would stay in the cabin until lights out, either reading them a story from the small collection of books Y/N had borrowed from the camp library.

Sometimes little Emy would share her favourite parts of the day with her peers to which they would agree or squeal a high-pitched ‘no’ when Jacky preferred one over the other. Y/N went the extra mile to sneak some extra chocolate chip cookies from the kitchen for them to nibble on only if they promised to properly brush their teeth when it was the groups’ turn to use the common bathrooms.

Y/N really missed those nights when she would make her rounds around the wooden house, kissing the campers’ foreheads as per their request. Some of them would even ask to be tucked in safely because of the scary stories told by the older kids sticking to their tiny heads’ imagination. It warmed Y/N’s heart that the kids trusted her ability to give a little affection and deem them safe from their hyperactive imaginations. But now, she had barely interacted with the kids--only when they were holding their trays as they waited for the cafeteria line to move up and Y/N would be adjacent to them, serving scrambled eggs, fried bacon and a fruit cup on the side.  Her role as a counsellor was temporarily given to two Counsellors-in-Training as recruited by Harry.

Even though Y/N technically wasn’t supposed to be responsible for her campers, her conscience rarely left her alone until she had visited poor, injured Daisy in the infirmary. It was kind of silly the way Y/N felt like she had to sneak into the building to check on the little girl. It wasn’t like she was going to hurt her--she could never--and what was wrong with wanting to check-in with Daisy? She was most likely alone, at least until she healed completely, and Y/N was more than willing to give her company.

So even if it was against the spoken rule that Y/N had to keep her distance--she simply could not. Daisy did not mind her presence either, often sitting up straight when Y/N opened the door with her meal for the day and an extra vanilla pudding to go along with it (Daisy disliked the chocolate flavour). They would braid each others’ hair and watch morning cartoons from the ancient television propper on a ledge. By the fifth visit, Daisy’s knee and calf prognoses were healing accordingly so Y/N was there to help her walk without adding too much weight to her leg.

______

Sometimes Y/N forgot that as much as Harry was just another ordinary person working at a summer camp; he was also the boss. And maybe having feelings for him and Harry reciprocating them made this situation a bit more painful than it should have been because it hurt that somebody who Y/N thought she could trust (and vice versa) would see her side of the situation and comprehend the misunderstandings that occurred.

Come to think of it, Y/N had a lot of free time to reckon about what actually happened with that whole fiasco. Since she was moved to mostly kitchen duties, Y/N had the chance to finally finish that conversation with Agnes who shared her insights on Belle’s sketchy perspective. Being new and all, Y/N had barely been exposed to Belle’s personality aside from the snippets that she had witnessed, mostly when Harry was around. Y/N was sure that she was a pleasant personality to be around with, probably also a great counsellor considering Belle had been working here for years.

Y/N didn’t want to assume that Belle was two-faced; though, it was increasingly difficult to keep that way of thinking, especially when she was alone in her cabin late at night.  While staring at the ceiling Y/N wondered if whatever was stirring between her and Harry was only short-lived. A summer fling. A seasons’ romance that scarcely made the four weeks’ mark before Harry awoke and realized that he could do better. Someone like Belle who matched him in each entity and someone who obviously knew him longer.

____

And maybe that was the reason why Y/N gulped heavily, throat bobbing as she watched the pair laugh with each other at the corner of the room. Y/N was already feeling queasy from the moment she woke up because of the cold temperature. She had decided to pass on using Harry’s cardigan since their conversation. It simply did not feel right for her to use it. As she made the walk from her cabin to the cafeteria hall, Y/N couldn’t help but tug her own flimsy sweater around her body, neck craning to look over her shoulder and see if Harry was jogging up behind her with his messy curls and a bright smile that she did not know could appear in the wee hours of the morning. They had gotten into a habit of matching each others’ stride; it was how they got close in the first place. 

But Y/N could see that Harry was avoiding her--it seemed like it.

From her position serving breakfast over the counter, Y/N had a clear view of Belle and Harry sitting across each other at the designated counsellor’s table. She may have slabbed a portion of eggs a little too hard on a poor campers’ plate when Belle leaned over to grab a piece of maple-flavoured sausage from Harry’s plate before feeling her cheeks heat up and offering a sheepish smile at the doe-eyed boy.

The knots in her stomach coiled even tighter when the breakfast line sprawled through an end and the kitchen staff finally had the chance to eat their own breakfast. Y/N miserably carried her tray to an empty table previously occupied by some campers who were now energetically playing outside, despite the chillier weather.  With a sigh, she took her fork and stabbed the piece of meat, tilting the corner of her lip in indifference when the juices oozed from the punctured hole. Y/N chewed her food slowly, keeping her gaze trained on the food in front of her when she felt a pair of eyes burning at the side of her head.

Y/N paused the movement of her jaw, searching for whoever it was and she was surprised when she met Harry’s stare. It had a sort of intensity that would force anybody to cower. From the distance, Y/N could tell that the cogs in his brain were overworking themselves, paired with the seemingly permanent crease between his brows.  He didn’t even blink when she had caught him, nor had he looked away.

She swallowed the mouthful of food, reaching out for her glass of orange juice-- a decision Y/N had made for a deviation from her usual drink of water, hoping that the extra sugar would give her some energy. Y/N blinked as she tilted her head back, satiating the ache of her throat with a splash of liquid. Through her lashes, she snuck another glance in Harry’s direction, further noticing that he was kneeling in front of Daisy who gave Harry a snuggly hug, short arms wrapped around his neck and his large hand comfortingly rubbing her back as he helped her walk to the nurse set to examine her injury after her first meal of the day.

It warmed her heart. She really missed him.

“Stop thinking that way, Y/N,” She reprimanded herself with another spoonful of eggs.

She almost choked when a deep voice caught her off guard.

“Stop thinking like what?” Jason asked, pulling the seat opposite of hers and plopping himself down on it. Dark sunglasses were perched on his nose, lifting it up to reveal gleaming brown eyes.

Y/N cleared her throat, “Nothing--just talking to myself,”

Jason chuckled at her words, resting his toned forearms on the furniture. He was dressed in his usual attire; a red shirt and shorts. Though, he adorned an extra layer of protection through the form of a grey sweater similar to Y/N’s.

“Well, if you want someone to talk to. . .” He left his sentence hanging, brows drawn high and Y/N’s heart at his insinuation.

She might carry feelings for Harry but she did not know where these would lead. Besides, Jason wasn’t bad to look at, recalling the first time they had met at the lake dock and how she was left flustered. Y/N pondered if she had made the wrong choice when she took Harry’s hand instead of Jason’s.

“Yeah, maybe sometimes,” Y/N blinked back embarrassment when she tried to shove another batch of eggs in her mouth. A little too quickly, might she add that Y/N had completely missed her mouth and smudged ketchup on her cheek.

“Here, I got it,” Jason acted swiftly even before she could react from her humiliating moment. honestly, it was bound to happen.

“Thanks,” Y/N breathed out, lifting her lowered gaze to Jason who was focused on getting the remnants of the red, sticky sauce from her face.

____

Harry crossed his arms over his chest at the sight.  He was not sure if the mess hall had just cleared out because of campers’ finishing their breakfasts or if Y/N really was the only subject of his tunnel vision. That and Jason who was getting a little too close to Y/N and he was not fond of it at all.

Moments prior, Daisy had approached him with a shy smile, reminding him so much of Y/N. The little girl had asked for Harry to not be ‘angry with Y/N anymore’.

~~~~

“What do you mean, Dais?” Harry asked, crouching on one knee to hear Daisy better.

“Y/N said you were mad at her because you thought she left me alone,” She explained, using his shoulder to keep herself balanced. “But she didn’t!”

From his peripherals, Harry could see Y/N take her hair out of the netting required when serving food.

“I mean, she did. . .but only because Belle said she’d watch over me,” Daisy continued. “I woke up and Belle wasn’t there. I was alone! I was so scared and hungry but Y/N visited me and brought me food,”

Harry let his voice falter, watching Y/N take her first bite of the day,  “S-she did?”

“Mhm!” The small camper nodded enthusiastically, “She also gave me extra pudding. Don’t tell her I said that.” Daisy slapped her hands over her mouth, eyes wide and it made Harry chuckled.

“Y/N’s nice, isn’t she?” Harry quipped, training his stare to Y/N.  He didn’t even flinch when they made eye contact.

“Yeah, so please don’t be mad at her anymore. It makes me sad to see her sad,” Daisy gasped exuberantly, smacking her palms over her mouth again, “Don’t tell her I said that either,”

And as he helped Daisy walking to the camp nurse, Harry couldn’t help but think of Daisy’s words. Harry thought that Y/N had gone back to her cabin after their talk. He wasn’t aware that Y/N had taken the initiative to check on Daisy--heck, he did not even check on Daisy after it.

~~~~

“So what do you say?” Jason queried. “Oh, hey Harry,”

Y/N fought the urge to look up at him. Instead, using her fork to roll the few pieces of food around on her plate that she was going to wash after this.

“Hey, man,” Harry greeted, keeping his eyes trained on Y/N who barely acknowledged him.

“I was just asking if Y/N wanted to come to the waterfalls tonight for Counsellors night out,” He gestured towards her, “You coming?”

It was a great way to let off some steam. Being surrounded by kids for the majority of the day was quite taxing and tense. This little trek to the waterfalls nearby was an amazing way to unwind.

“Don’t think so. It’ll be dark and will probably be cold,” Harry answered for Y/N, silently pleading her to at least give him a sign that they were okay.

Y/N snapped her head at that, squinting her eyes at him. “Actually, I wouldn’t mind, Jason.

“Great! Dress in long-sleeves and pants. It’s a bit of a hike. I can bring you a towel if you’d like?”

She nodded at his offer. “Sweet!”

Harry internally rolled his eyes at the action of Jason fist-pumping the air. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

Y/N scooted her chair out, abruptly standing, catching both men by surprise.

“I have to go wash the dishes. Kitchen duties,” Y/N wasn’t sure if Harry could hear the sarcastic tone in her voice. She hoped he did. “Let’s go, Jason,”

Y/N walked ahead without as much as a glance at Harry. Jason got out of his own chair, set to follow her.

“Where are you going?” Harry caught him by the arm to quench his curiosity.

“Cleaning up with Y/N.” Jason responded, “It’s not my ideal first date but hey--it’s the person you’re with that makes it special, no?”

Harry’s throat dried up at the statement, stiffly nodding his head in agreement. Though, he and Y/N never labelled anything or made their relationship official--Harry thought that they were building up towards that. Now, he feels like an idiotic fool who ruined--possibly--the best thing that happened to him.

____

fin.

[gayaristocrat]

I Got Everything I wanted...

Episode 1: Filmed Before a Live Studio Audience...

Pairing: Vision x Male Reader

Taglist: N/A

‼️Authors Note‼️: I'm finally at a point where I can write this story. I know that It is long overdue, so I hope this can make up for it. This story is going to be breaking the 4th wall a lot since they tend to do that in the actual show. Also, please let me know in my Inbox/Askbox if you would like to be tagged every time I upload a story to this series. While reading this, you may realize that it seems rushed, and that's because it was. I wanted to put this out as soon as I possibly could. Also since you guys voted that I just divide it up into parts for you to read. I will be uploading part 2 whenever I am able to.

Summary: (Male Name) and Vision struggle to conceal their powers during dinner with Vision's boss and his wife

Time Period: 1956 (So everything in this chapter is going to be colorless and in black and white)

Word count: 4k+

Word Key:

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Have you ever dreamed of living the life you always wanted? Have you ever dreamed of something so bad to the point where you would do anything to get it. Have you ever dreamed of something so bad to the point where all of your care for others went out the window? Have you ever dreamed of wanting something so bad to the point where you would stop anyone who gets in your way.

"(Male Name), I love you so much. Please don't do this, cant you see that everyone is hurting, that everyone is in so much pain?"

"I'm sorry Vision, but I can't. I can't loose you...not again. I never meant for things to be this way, but now I can't go back. Not without you"

---REWIND MANY EPISODES BACK---

For a second, everything is black. The TV clicks on and a burst of grey static illuminates the screen. Everything is black and white, not a single drop of color is in the area. A happily little tune starts playing as a colorless 1956 Buick Special drives up a tiny hill and back down past a sign which says 'Speed Limit 35'. The camera angle changes to the back of the car, showing a banner above the license plate, 'Just Married'. Next, the camera cuts to us, (Male Name) and Vision, newlywed husbands.

It finally happened, we finally got married! Both of us turn take a quick look and smile at each other with nothing but love and glee, it seemed like nothing could go wrong in this moment.

🎵Oh~

A newlywed couple just moved into town,

A regular husband and husband,🎵

Vision turns his head back to the road and continues driving until we turn down a happy little neighborhood. Each house on the street has a pattern of different color greys with black roofs, their yards decorated with equally bland colorless flowers and grass. Children playing outside, and adults chatting with one another while they tend to their gardens, or while walking their dogs. Everyone is just so cheery and happy, even the mailman waves at us as we pass him. Everything is exactly the way it's supposed to be, perfect.

🎵Who left the big city,

To find a quiet life,

(Male Name)Vision!🎵

Vision drives into the driveway of our new home. We quickly hop out of the car and approach the house, but before we walk in I take notice of the 'For Sale' sign still in the yard. I quickly flick my hand and use my magic to change the sign to 'Sold'. After that I dust my hands off with a proud smile on my face as Vision scoops me in his arms bridal style, opens the front door, and carries me inside. I flick my wrist again and the front door closes and locks as we both move to the Livingroom of our already decorated 2 story home.

🎵He's a magical boy,

In a small town locale

And a hubby who's part machine,

How will this duo fit in and pull through?🎵

Once Vision puts me back on my feet, we start swaying with the jingle playing in the background while title cards pop up of written words that I don't care to read right now since I'm too busy enjoying this happy moment with my new husband. Vision then gives me a little twirl before wrapping his arms around my waist as we both dip into a loving heartfelt kiss.

🎵Oh, by sharing a love,

Like you've never seen

(Male Name)Vision!🎵

---SCENE CHANGE---

The scene suddenly changes as the lights flick on and cameras start rolling. You start the scene off by walking into the kitchen and start making your way to one of the grey drawers next to the oven and you grab one of your favorite aprons. Humming a little tune, you wrap the white cloth around your waist and start observing the kitchen to see what needs to be picked up or cleaned. Deciding to work on putting up the dishes, you raise your hand and the newly cleaned plates start levitating off of the counters and float off to the display racks, you then raise your other hand and a dark colored dish cloth floats out of the cabinet and it begins drying a glass cup. You then turn your back to the cup to observe if it had been cleaned good enough, suddenly you jump as a loud crash echoes through out the kitchen. Turn to see what the problem is, you only to find Vision looking up from today's news paper and glances at the shattered plate at the ground while a laughing crown erupts out of nowhere.

"My husband and his flying saucers" He says in his thick English accent (or is it British🤔), with a joking tone.

"My husband and his indestructible head" I reply back in the same tone as another laugh erupts from the crowd.

He then folds his newspaper and walked over to your direction, giving you a kiss on the cheek when he arrived, causing you to chuckle while twirling your finger, making the plate form back to it's original round shape before it floats off to it's designated spot.

"Vision, honey, what do you say to silver dollar pancakes, crispy hash browns, bacon, eggs, freshly squeezed orang juice and black coffee?" You say while walking over to the refrigerator, opening it and bending down, getting ready to grab out everything needed to make the meal for him.

"I'd say 'Oh, I don't eat food' " He says smiling at me, while the crown laughs again.

You look inside the fridge and hum to yourself in surprise while putting all the pieces together in your head before saying "Well, that explains the empty refrigerator then"

"(Male Name), my darling. Is there something special about today?"

"Well, I know the apron is a bit much dear, but I'm doing my best to blend in and have the 'Perfect House Husband' look." You say walking to meet him, assuming he's talking about the apron.

"No no, you don't have to try, you already are the perfect house husband." He says as he lightly grabs your chin with his pointer finger and thumb and lightly giving you a 'boop' on the nose. "But I was referring to the calendar. Someone's drawn a heart right above today's date." You then looked at him as you cluelessly try to figure out what he's talking about, so he puts his hands on your shoulders and turns you around to face the calendar behind you and he rests his chin on your head as you both look at the heart.

Trying to act like you know what day it is, you say "Well...d..dont tell me you've forgotten Vis?"

"Oh silly (y/n), I'm incapable of forgetfulness. I remember everything. That's not an exaggeration. In fact, I'm even incapable of exaggeration" He rambles boastfully.

"Hmm, well then if that's true, then maybe you can tell me what's so important about today's date"

He pauses for a second and thinks before he blows a slow puff of air out of his mouth, then deciding on saying "Uhhh...what was the question again? Oh well, no matter, perhaps you've forgotten yourself"

"Me? Heavens, no, haha. I've been so looking forward to it."

You both have actually been looking forward to day. Today you are celebrating...The first time you...uhhh...have ever celebrated this occasion before. It's a special day indeed, perhaps an evening?...of great significance?...to you both, naturally.. obviously...exactly! Well done for the both of you.

You two ramble on for a few more minutes trying to drill the other into spilling on what was so special about today, but you two couldn't since you were both obviously unknowing about it, then Vision remembered something.

"Well, sorry darling, that's me off to work, then." Vison says fixing his grey suit jacket and grabbing his suitcase walking to the front door. You quickly grab his hat hanging on the coat rack and place it on his head, fixing it to make it look straight.

"Also don't forget-"

"(Male Name), my dear how many times do I have to tell you I don't forg- oh you mean my face right?"

You nod letting him know that was what you were getting at. The audience laughs again as he quickly shakes his head and his face and hands transform from cold metal to warm flesh. Vision then puts his palm to his face and pretends to blow you a kiss, while you play along and pretend to catch it and put it over your heart.

Once he leaves out the door, you lock it a return to the kitchen, and make your way to the calendar, chewing on your polished nails (if you don't want nail polish then skip that part) as you try to remember the symbolism of the heart. Not even a second later your thoughts get interrupted as a loud knock at the door startles you back to 'reality'.

Going to go see who it is, you push the door that separates the living room and the kitchen, closer to the knocking. You quickly open the door and see a woman with a dark plaid dress and a styled black hairdo holding a grey plant in a white pot.

"Oh hello, dear. I'm Agnes, your neighbor to the right. My right, not yours" She says in a sing-song tone as she uninvitedly makes her way into the house. The eruption of cackles echo as you look at her in confusion as to why she decided to step inside, but decided to keep a calm attitude and not say anything about it.

"Forgive me for not stopping by sooner to welcome you to the block. My mother-in-law was in town...so I wasn't!" she says laughing with the audience once more as her dress sways with her movements. She rushes the potted plant into your arms and you smile and take it as she makes her way into the living room to continue her snooping. "So what's your name? Where are you from? And most importantly how's your bridge game, hon?" She says not loosing a single breath, and of course not giving you time to answer in between questions.

"Umm...Well I'm (Male Name)" You say reaching your hand out to shake hers

"(Male Name)? Charmed!" She joyfully says and returns the gesture.

"Golly, you sure do settle fast! Yes sir you did indeed! Did you use a moving company?"

"Why I sure did. Those boxes don't move themselves." The audience laughs as your inside joke, because let's be honest, the boxes did move themselves since you used your magic to decorate everything. (Damn (Male Name), you really are a powerful sum' bitch)

'"So (Male Name), what's a single boy like you doing rattling around this big house?" She says siting on the couch.

You laugh to yourself and dreamily look at the finger your ring should be on that Vision gave you to claim you as his, (He liked it so he put a ring on it.....sorry...anyways) but paused as it wasn't there. That's not right, because you could have sworn that it was there when you created this rea-

"Oh no, I'm not single I-"

"Well I don't see a ring

"Well I can promise you, I am indeed married...To a man. A human one and tall too! A a matter of fact, he'll be home later tonight for a special occasion just the two of us." You say putting emphasis on 'occasion' with a wink.

"Oh is it somebody's birthday? A holiday?" Agnes questions bouncing up and down in the couch with her legs crossed like a 'proper lady'.

"Well, no and no"

"An anniversary then?"

"Ye-uhh...yes, Its our anniversary!" You shout, finally able to remember what that heart meant.

Agnes waves you over to come sit on the couch with her and you obey, sitting down she grabs and rests both sets of you two's clasped hands on your apron.

"Sooo...tell me, how many years" She asks letting out a little squeal.

"Well..uhhh..it...it uh feels like we've always been together"

"You lucky man-" She shakes her head remembering about her own husband "-the only way Ralph would remember our anniversary is if there was a beer names June 2nd." She chuckles as the audience laughs from nowhere again. "So what do you have planned?"

"How do you mean?" You questioned her. I mean you never really did have time to come up with anything since you just realized, or assumed, what today was.

"For your special night, (Male Name)! A young boy like yourself doesn't have to do much, but it's still fun to set the scene. Say-" she says standing up to slowly make her way to the door "-I was just reading a crackerjack magazine article called 'How To Treat Your Husband To Keep Your Husband', and let me tell you somethin'...what Ralph could really use is, 'How to Goose Your Wife So You Don't Loose Your Your Wife'. She kidd's as her and the audience laugh. You look at her and shake your head trying to hold back your own laughter. "Hang on, I'll go grab it and we can start planning. Oh, this is gonna be a gas!" She shouts running to the door so she can leave and run to her house.

-----Time Skip---

Both Agnes and you are back on the couch, looking through her magazines trying to find ideas for the anniversary dinner you planned for you and Vision to share, when out of nowhere, the phone started ringing interrupting you two. You got up and rushed over to it hoping you don't miss the unknown caller, you pick it up and put it to your ear and then start talking.

"Vision residence how may I help you"

"(Male Name), darling I-"

"Vision, my dearest husband. How are you sweetheart?" You say cutting him off from his obviously panicked and frantic voice. I mean come on, you are just excited to hear your husband's voice after a hours of him being gone.

"Listen about tonight-"

You cut him off again, already knowing that he was going to talk about the anniversary. "Don't worry, dear, I have everything under complete control"

"Oh, well, that is a relief. I must confess, I'm really rather nervous" He says over the phone.

"Nervous? Whatever for?" You question.

"Well, you know, darling, I still get a little tongue-tied."

The audience coo's and aww's at how a dust of grey creeps up on your (dark grey/grey) cheeks. "Vis, after all this time..." you giggle out.

"There's a lot riding on this (Male Name)! If tonight doesn't go just so, I think this could be the end.

'Wait what' you think to yourself

"Well, it's just one night. There's no need to get dramatic." You say in a worried tone as you grasp your now queasy stomach.

Vision's tone begins to get more serious as the conversation continues in his attempt to express how important this is to you. "Look, I think the best course of action is to impress the wife."

"Well, first, I think you mean husband. And secondly I also think the best course of action is to impress the other husband too." You look over and give Agnes a thumbs up and a wink in her direction, and she does the same while sipping her martini.

"Glad to know we're both on the same page, love. Until tonight, then, my sweet little husband" Vision says making two smooching noises through the phone to you.

"Until tonight...my robotic husband" You return, whispering the last part so Agnes doesn't hear you. She couldn't hear you anyways, being too busy sipping her drink and flipping through the pages. You finally gently put the phone on the hook and return to the couch.

---Time Skip, Later Tonight---

Before Vision made it home, you set the big dining table that was next to the living room and tossed colorless silk scarfs on all of the laps in the room to set the mood and made your way to the bedroom to get dressed to surprise him for when he gets home. When you heard the door open and heard his voice, you tip toed your way out of the bedroom and into the living room, dressed a long fluffy white lingerie robe with white fur that wrapped around the arms of it which was trailing behind you, exposing both of your (dark grey/grey) legs. You then went all the way to Vision's black silhouette and gently wrapped your hands around his eyes, causing him to jump form the sudden contact.

The audience laughed again as they know your mistake. 'Where the hell is that laughing coming from, and whey is it happening right now of all times?' you thought to yourself in confusion.

"Guess who~" you seductively whispered to your husbands.

Suddenly the lights turn on and you hear Vision's voice that was filled with a mix of shock, embarrassment, and irritation at your recklessness. "(MALE NAME) WHAT ARE YOU DOING!"

You gasp and look in his direction. "Vision? What are you-" then it hit's you, if Vision is right there, then who's-

"Oh! Oh my stars, I'm so sorry!" You say to the man you mistook for your husband. You quickly uncover his eyes and stumble away from him as he stares at you in shock. Then you look down at your attire and try to cover your exposed leg as much as possible.

"What is the meaning of this!" The bald headed mad says appalled, as his wife stands behind him looking around cluelessly.

Vision interrupts with his stammering voice just as confused as everyone else. "Well..uh yeah (Male Name) what is the meaning of-" Suddenly it hits him and he tries to comes up with an excuse off the top of his head. "-Oh, the meaning of it! You want to know the meaning of it...and...the meaning of it is...that this is the tradition of (Random Foreign Country/Continent) greeting of hospitality. Uhh...guess who???" Vision says as he runs behind you and overs your eyes.

"Oh is that my host being me?" You say playing along.

"It certainly is, darling. Lovely to make your acquaintance" Vision says vigorously shaking your hand. "See i forgot to tell you my husband is from (Random Foreign Country/Continent)" he giggles along with the audience.

"Oh, how exotic!" The man's wife cheerfully laughs.

"I never knew such a place as that existed" He says in a dark yet serious tone.

"Oh hush Author, have you no culture. Oh and the robe, I absolutely love it!" His wife replies trying to lighten up the awkward mood.

"Thank you so much ma'am-" you march through the living room and snatch off the silk scarves from all the lamps and tightly grab Vision's hand. "-Can I just see you in the kitchen for a moment, sweetheart?"

You both then slam your way through the kitchen door and it swings closed behind you, leaving Vision's boss and his wife behind as they sit down on the couch and patiently (more like impatiently on Arthur's end) wait for your return. You then turn around and look at each other before throwing questions.

"Who are those people?!"

"What are you wearing!?"

"Why are they here?"

"What are you wearing!?" Vision questions again boldly

"Well, it's out anniversary, that's why I'm wearing this!"

"Our anniversary of what?" Vison says, desperate to know what the hell you were talking about. Eventually you had enough of these shenanigan's and throw the scarves down at his feet stomping your way to the kitchen chairs. "Well if you don't know, I'm not going to tell you!" you exaggerate, crossing your arms and pouting like a child

"(Male Name), darling! That...that man through there is my boss Mr. Hart! And his dear lady wife Mrs. Hart! The heart on the calendar was an abbreviation!" Vision whispers, roughly tapping his hand on the black heart drawn on the dull colored calendar.

You grab your head and shake it trying to put everything together. "Vision sweetie, you move at the speed of sound and I can make a pen float through the air. Who. Needs. To. Abbreviate!?"

Vision grabs both of your shoulders in an attempt to collect his thoughts and calm you down. "Darling, listen, it's all romantic to do the candles, the music, that stunning outfit. I don't wanna be unappreciative, but right now-"

"Your boss and his wife are expecting a home-cooked meal. Correct?" Vision nods his head while muttering 'exactly' while look around the kitchen in order to find somethin to serve to the unwarned visitation of guests. After looking around for a but, your eyes land on the mini round table that held a plate and food on it. "Well, does your boss and his wife have a hunger for a single chocolate-covered strawberry, split three ways?" Vision hisses while clenching his fists and shaking his head no.

"Oh wait, I might have better ideas" Without hesitation you raise both of your sands and snap your fingers, magically changing your outfit to the one you were wearing earlier that day, a pair of dark high waisted cuffed slacks and a white blouse to match (you can change if you don't like), and the audience claps in astonishment at your transformation whilst you tie your apron in a bow behind your back. Vision gives you a quick peck on the cheek and runs back to the living room to keep others company while you figure out what to serve everyone.

---Time Skip---

After minutes of looking, you couldn't find anything in the kitchen, and the refrigerator was empty, so you decided to call your good neighbor Agnes to see if she could pick up some things from the store and bring it over. A couple of minutes pass and you finally hear a familiar knock on the back door in the kitchen. As soon as you open it Agnes rushes through with her hands full of groceries stacked to her chin as she stumbles through the kitchen. Before you could even mutter out a 'thank you' she stops you dead in your tracks and puts all the food down on the table. "Before you can say anything don't think about it. I mean, what kind of housewife would I be if I didn't have a gourmet meal for four just lying about the place. Not that Ralph wants to eat anything other than baked beans, which explains a lot about his personal appeal, mind you." The audience laughs one more at her silly humor as you quickly render to her aid to grab some of the groceries before they could fall. Unfortunately, it seems like the Universe was not on your side since the large cooking pot crashed and hit the ground, echoing throughout the kitchen, while Agnes yelled out an overexaggerated 'oh my'.

You had to get rid of Agnes and as quickly as you can, so you decided to just push her out the back door despite her protests to help you cook. "Thank you so much Agnes but I can take it from here-"

"Are you sure dear, many hands make light work. And many mouths make good gossip too!"

"Oh ahahaha, you are so naughty! But-"

"Oh, shall I preheat the oven then? hmm?"

"That won't be necessary, thank you for your time!"

Somehow she managed to escape your grasp on her waist and make her way back to the counter to crab some kitchen tools to start cooking for you. "Well, I know you're in a pinch so this menu can be done in a snap." She says snapping her fingers before continuing her rambling. you run back over to her and snatch the utensils from her, setting them on the counter, and grabbing her arms to march her back to the door. "Lobster Thermidor with mini-minced turnovers to start. Chicken à la King with twice-cooked new potatoes for your second course, and Steak Diane with mint jellies for your main. Oh wait! Do you set your own jellies, dear?"

"Yes Agnes I do, now can you please-"

"Ah there you go, good boy! Recipe cards are all on the counter there. Bon Appétit!"

"Haha, yes will do, thank you so much again Agnes! Bye now!" You say slamming the door, making the audience laugh at your exhausted expression. Now that she's gone, you run to the middle of the kitchen and throw your arms around, making all of the drawers and cabinets in the kitchen fly open, the dishes start floating out, and the food starts cooking. Out of no where the doors to the island bar swoop open to show Mrs. Hart, but before she could see Vision distracts her by breaking out and singing Yackety Yack by The Coasters, causing her to break out into a little dance, making her way back to the couch. Dear gods and goddess', how lucky are you to have a savior like him.

But little did you know, that the night was only just beginning.

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Finish the fic? Leave a like and comment if you enjoyed it. Also, give it a reblog too! Once again, I'm so sorry it was rushed! Please don't be afraid to let me know if there are any typos or errors. I will go back and edit this

[quietmyfearswith]

new year’s day ; andy barber x fem!reader

status — completed oneshot

word count — 3,960 words

warnings — swearing, mentions of active sex life, SMUT, degradation, sir kink, choking, oral smut (receiving), fingering, unprotected penetrative sex (pls use protection), slapping, name calling, drinking champagne off of one’s body, fluff at the end?? porn without plot lol

pairing — andy barber x fem!reader

a/n — HAPPY NEW YEAR! im still high on my andy feels so yeah,, lmk what yoou think!

masterlist

“Fuckin’ hell my eyes hurt,” Y/N groaned out as she rubbed her palms on her eyelids, as if she was massaging the stress away. Rose could only chuckle at her friend’s distress, “Well I did warn you about how you shouldn't have gone to work today; you deserve to take a break once in a while you know?”

Cracking her knuckles once she was done rubbing her eyes, Y/N retorted, “Well it’s not like I had any New Year’s Eve plans so I decided why not go to work?” As she continued to torment her eyes with the light emitted from her desktop. Being her only real friend at the workplace, Rose took it as a responsibility to look after her; for she knew how she wasn’t really close with her family and her other closest friends were on the different side of the country. “Hey, I invited you to that party me and Agnes are going to!”

Tearing her straining eyes away from the screen, Y/N gave the brunette a pointed look, “You mean to say you invited me to party where I don’t know anyone but you and your girlfriend; which definitely guarantees that you’ll both leave me alone so you can fuck.”

Rose didn’t find it in herself to deny her allegation or defend her and her girlfriend’s active sex life; instead she could only give her a sheepish look as she joked, “Guess you’ve been spending too much time with Mr. Barber since you’re incredible at drawing conclusions and noticing patterns huh?” Seeing how much time she had spent with the mentioned lawyer over the past year, Y/N couldn’t help but nod and agree with her.

The soft chime of Rose's Favorite song rang and a cocky, “See! Can’t even wait an hour before you two get to be together,” was quickly being hushed by her friend. “Okay you have a point, we have a high sex drive — but can you blame us? And I need to leave early, stupid bitch burnt herself as she was baking.”

Chuckling without tearing her eyes away from the documents in front of her, Y/N greeted, “Yeah, yeah; don’t need to rub it in. Happy New Year’s Eve, babe.” Before heading to Mr. Barber’s office to sweetly ask to leave early, Rose went to where Y/N was seated and let their cheeks touch as their way of bidding adieu.

Andy was more than generous to allow Rose to leave the office early, “Go ahead and enjoy, you deserve it for being one of the few ones who chose to come in today,” He told her smiling form. Once she left his office, he loosened his tie and undid the top button of his button down shirt and let out a loud groan. Usually, this time last year he would be rushing to go home — if ever his work demanded his presence — in order to celebrate the New Year’s with his family. But now as he mourns the family he once had and lost it as his son was brutally killed by his ex-wife that had gone insane in disbelieving her son’s innocence was now serving prison for her crimes, he had nowhere to be.

After a couple of hours filled with silence and burying his head with paperwork, Andy noticed how there was a soft, melodious hymn coming from the other side of the office. The lawyer wasn’t necessarily alarmed, but he was curious about who was left working since there had only been 7 other people who decided to come in to work today; and to his knowledge they should have left by now.

He decided to check out who was left — but it really was an excuse to stretch his long, lean legs as he felt them cramping up a bit from being seated for too long — and was surprised to see the most diligent employee he’s ever met in his years of practicing law, “Ms. Y/N, what are you still doing here?”

Hearing his deep voice snapped her out of her concentration; seeing her boss in his less than organized state had her taken aback, “Oh Mr. Barber, I’m just doing some work on the Richards case.” Looking at the watch on his left wrist, he took note how it was a mere 15 minutes before the new year dawned on them. “No plans for the new year then?”

Deciding to test the waters she cracked a joke, “Are you talking about the holiday or the actual year? Because I have no plans for both.”Covering up her remark with a nervous chuckle, she was glad to see the older man wrinkle his eyes as he laughed out loud, “Well that makes the two of us; why don’t we grab a drink in my office?”

Eyes going wide and gasping silently, Y/N was pleasantly surprised at his offer but nevertheless nodded in agreement. Quickly shutting off her desktop, she moved out of her chair and decided to leave her footwear and floral kimono by her desk as she somewhat felt restricted by the light cloth. As she entered his post, she settled herself on the gray sofa he had placed near the office’s wall. Grabbing a bottle of champagne and a couple of glasses, Andy sat beside her then poured them a drink.

“Never pegged you as a champagne guy, Mr. Barber,” She thanked him as he handed her a glass which she took a sip of; letting out a small moan of appreciation at the taste, the  sound causing Andy to cross his right leg on top of the left in an effort to conceal his erection. “Please, call me Andy,” He cleared his throat as he took a sip of the liquor, “And whiskey and bourbon are my usual choices of poison; but since it’s the New Year, figured this was more appropriate.”

Y/N surprised the man beside her by drinking all of the champagne in one go and placed the now empty glass on the coffee table in front of them before turning to his gobsmacked expression and giggled, “Sorry, really need that one.” With his hooded eyes watching her intently, he drank some of his before answering, “Don’t be Y/N, it was quite a show.”

She could feel her wetness dampen the panties she wore with how good her name sounded as it left his lips, “Don’t think I ever heard you call me by my first name before.” Worried he crossed the line he was quick to fumble out an apology; but quickly stopped as he felt her hand on his thigh, “It’s okay, I’m not mad or anything. I really like it, actually,” She trailed off once she noticed how he seemed to have let out a quiet, but aroused purr. Tilting her head to the side with an amused expression plastered on her face, “You alright, Andy?”

Years of practicing law and appearing in courtrooms taught him not to lose composure; but with a simple touch and mention of his name had Andy forgetting how to remain calm and collected. But can you fucking blame him when the girl who walks around with so much grace and confidence — who also happens to be the subject of his filthy fantasies — is so close to him that he can almost feel her warmth piercing through his long-sleeved shirt. In that moment, he wasn’t sure if it was a wise or dumb decision to discard his suit jacket, but as their arms touched and he felt a surge of electricity run through his veins, he thought of himself as a fucking genius.

“I am, yeah,” Deciding to test the waters, he grabbed her hand that rested on her thigh and intertwined their fingers together; when she made no attempts at removing her hand from his he smirked, “Correct me if I’m wrong, but something tells me you want more than just this champagne I offered.”

Feeling her inhibitions disappear, she gave him a smirk of her own as she untangled her hands from his, “Well, I do want some more champagne,” Her finger was now tracing his lips as she moved to sit closer until she was now straddling his lap, “Maybe taste it from your lips?”

Silently, Andy brought the glass to his lips and downed the remaining sparkling drink; his free hand settled itself on the back of her neck, pulling her close to him until her lips touched his. As he bit her bottom lip, she opened her mouth and moaned out loud as she felt the alcoholic beverage enter her mouth. Both her hands caressed his bearded cheek as she drank up every last drop that he offered her. Groaning out loud when his mouth was now devoid of the drink, he let his tongue enter her mouth and asserted his dominance; something she willingly conceded to him. His hand on her neck traveled lower and rested on her bum, squeezing the soft flesh which emitted more moans from her.

“Been dreaming about this for so long,” His staff silently, mindlessly let out as she kissed him desperately. “Is that so?” He asked once he broke away their kiss, Y/N whined at the loss of his lips and confused with his question. Chuckling at her groggy state he squeezed both her cheeks with one hand, forcing her to focus on him and answer his question, “You said you’ve been dreaming about this, baby. Is that what you daydream about at work? Me fucking you so hard your dumb brain can’t even think straight?”

Letting out a pathetic whine, she could only nod her head enthusiastically, “Want that so fucking bad, sir.” He felt his cock harden even more at the title she called him; but he wasn’t even done with teasing her yet. “And that fantasy will come true; but first, stand up and strip for me, baby,” With a soft smack on her cheek, she stood up quickly and unzipped her dress. Andy watched her present her body for him as he poured another glass for himself.

Resting on the arm rest was the hand with the sparkling champagne, while the other was palming his erection as watched her push her dress down to the floor. “No bra? Just that poor excuse of underwear?” He moaned out as he observed the fabric that parts at the middle, teasing the paradise that awaits for his cock.

Lowering her gaze, as if bashful, at his filthy remarks before resuming her previous position of sitting on his lap with her hands moving to unbutton his button down. “Such an impatient little thing, aren’t you?” He clicked his tongue at her; to which she pouted as she stared at him with want written on her face, “I’m sorry, sir. What do you want me to do?”

“Ride my thigh like the slut you are, baby,” He commanded her without even thinking about it, which turned her on even more. Situating herself on his thick, lean thigh she moaned out loud as the fabric of her thong added even more friction. She began to ride him with slow but sharp movements, throwing her head back when she felt her wetness taint the fabric of his slacks, “How does it feel, baby?”

“Good, so good,” Her broken cries turned him on even more as he sipped on the champagne, enjoying the tingle it left on his tongue. “Do you trust me, baby?” Surprised at his question, she opened her eyes to look at him, her hip movements not faltering one bit. Upon seeing how serious he was she answered, “I do, Andy. I trust you.”

With a smirk, he then tipped the glass just above her breasts, allowing the liquid to run from her collarbones and down to her breasts. Gasping out loud when Andy runs his tongue on her skin, following the trail that the champagne took, “Don’t stop grinding on me, love,” He reminded her as his lips drank the liquid that landed on her nipple — subsequently sucking on the pebble-like flesh. Seeking purchase on his dark hair, Y/N continued rubbing herself on his thigh — his assault on her breast encouraging her to ride him even harder and faster.

“Time to drink some more,” Andy huskily spoke out as he poured some more of the beverage on her opposite breast  causing the girl to stiffen a bit as she was taken aback by the sudden coolness on her breast. His tongue flattened against her skin, now more focused on kissing every inch of her skin instead of drinking up the liquor. His hand held her breast firmly, raising it a bit so he could suck on it and slurp the booze.

“Fuck, the champagne tastes even incredible on you, baby,” HIid praise got her flustered and she could only whine as she felt herself getting closer. “I’m so close, sir. Can I cum, please?” She fluttered her eyes at him sweetly, hoping he’d show her mercy; but his wicked smile and wink got her thinking she’d be shown the opposite of it. “Not yet, baby,” He was quick to shut her wails up with a smack on her breast, “Sit down on the sofa, baby.”

Even though she denied him her release, she followed his orders without a complaint — working with him provided her a clear picture of what happens when you don’t follow Andy’s orders, and it didn’t end well for everyone involved. As she sat down, she watched as the lawyer placed his glass on the table and reached for the bottle; poured some on her pussy. Y/N watched closely as Andy licked her clit, down to her hole. Without tearing his eyes away from hers, he inserted his tongue in her and tried to reach as far as his long tongue can go. “So good, Andy,” She grabbed onto his hair, pushing his face closer to her. The man was quick to smack her thigh, causing her to press her thighs more into his frame, “You know what to call me,” He warned.

“Sir,” She panted out, “Feel so good, sir.” Pleased with that, he rewarded her by rubbing his right thumb on her clit, making her moan even louder. Loving her blissed out sounds of pleasure, Andy began licking her ferociously; he drank up all of the champagne he poured and all the juices she had to provide. He inserted his left pointer and middle finger in her, taking her aback with the sudden simulation. Her thighs were shaking with how good he was making her feel, too weak to even grab onto his hair and her arms were now limp on her sides, “Sir, please! I’m so fucking close, please let me cum.”

Without tearing his mouth and hands from her he replied, “Then cum on my fucking tongue, you slut,” The vibrations adding more to the pleasure she felt. After a few more thrusts of his fingers, kitten licks of his tongue, she felt apart with a scream. Her thighs wrapped themselves around his shoulders, squeezing him so tight that she felt his beard tickle her delicate skin. Andy pulled out his fingers that were in her, replacing them with his tongue so he can gather all of her juices and drink some of them in. “You taste like fucking heaven, baby,” He groaned as he parted from her pussy, his fingers pushing her juices back inside her so he could use it as lube.

“Wanna kiss you, sir,” Her fingers touched the patch of facial hair above his lips, surprised with how it had her juices. Andy complied, giving her a brief, but sweet kiss. “Want you on your hands and knees, baby. Hold on to the back of the sofa okay?” Y/N couldn’t help but feel mushy with how gentle he was bossing her around — when she knew his next actions would be far from gentle.

Holding on to the back of the sofa, she used it to steady herself on her knees, bending slightly so she could arch her back to accentuate her ass. Andy quickly discarded his clothes before rubbing her pussy again and pushed some of her juices in, before entering in her pussy in one go. His forehead rested on her back as he groaned out, “Fuck baby you’re so tight. Been a while huh?” Anchoring himself on her hips, he slid in and out of her at a steady pace.

Y/N moaned out loud as she felt the back of her thighs meet Andy’s hips; he was thrusting into her with no remorse. Her hand travelled to her breast, switching between pinching the nipple or pulling on it. Grabbing her hair with one hand, the bearded man pulled her so her back was pressed firmly against his chest. You’d think that this would give Andy a difficult time to rut into her but it didn’t; instead it just made him drive his cock in her harder and faster, falling into a drum-like rhythm.

“Why are you fucking touching yourself, slut?” Feeling his breath on her ear turned her on more than she cared to admit and she couldn’t even string together a coherent response since the tip of his dick pushed into her g-spot, causing her to moan out loud. “You’re such a fucking mess that you can’t even think straight huh?”

Nodding pathetically was all the response Y/N could offer as she clawed on to Andy’s toned arms; the lawyer then decided to go all the way with his fun by wrapping his big hand around her neck, applying gentle pressure. “You don’t mind this do you, sweetheart?” Shaking her head no, Andy then smiled as he put more force on the sides of her neck as he rammed his cock in her until the tip of his cock repeatedly hit her bundle of nerves that made tears leave her eyes with how good everything felt. The other hand that wasn't wrapped around her throat then lowered itself on her clit, rubbing the hardened nub.

“If only you knew how hard you got me every time you came to work with a tight skirt or pants,” He breathed out against her ear, tickling her with his breath, “Giving me a perfect view of the shape of your ass,” And to emphasize his point he thrust so hard until his cock was all the way in and spanked her ass. “Walking around the office with so much fucking confidence,” He recalled the time wherein she called out an officemate for talking lewdly about her — that caused him to jerk one off in the office bathroom. “But now you’ve been reduced to a dumb cock hungry whore for me,” She wailed out in agreement as his hand squeezed her throat so tight to the point she was now gasping for breath as his other hand wrapped around her tit, loving the weight and feel of it on his hand, grabbing onto it to move it up and down his hand.

“Are you gonna cum again, baby? Gonna cum around my thick cock?” He could feel her walls clinging on to his cock even more, making it difficult to thrust in her but he was determined to keep on sliding his cock in and out. “Yes, so close, please let me cum,” She trailed off as he abandoned his hold on her tit and throat and returned to her hips so he could maneuver her and ram his cock swiftly and harder. “Cum then you, slut. Let me feel you milk my cock,” Was all the permission she needed before she dug her nails into his forearms as came with a scream, “Thank you, sir!”

Even as she was cumming, Andy thrust in and out of her; though his thrusts weren’t as powerful and quick. Once he felt her spasms die down, he slid all the way inside her and came with a groan. They both could feel his cock twitch as it released his load inside her, filling her up with his hot semen. Littering kisses on her back, Andy could feel his regular breathing return — as was hers.

Carefully, Andy pulled out of her, “Can you stand up for a bit, baby?” She nodded and stood up from her position, the lawyer guiding her to sit by the arm rests. Still stuck in her post-orgasm haze, she watched as he moved the coffee table away and transformed his sofa into a bed. Grabbing the spare bed sheet, blanket, and pillows he kept in the office — in case he had to spend the night in the office — he quickly made the bed before he helped Y/N to lay down with him, wrapping the blanket over their naked bodies.

“How you feeling?” It was amazing how he had a quick change of demeanor; Y/N was lazily tracing over Andy’s face with her finger, making the most out of this intimate moment. “Feel good, really good. Always wanted someone to fuck me the way you did.”

Her curt response had him chuckling, loving the way she was being open with him and the way she traced over his features. “Well I’m glad I fulfilled this fantasy of yours.”

Suddenly, Y/N felt small and insecure; was this a one time thing? Just something to release his frustrations and a fantasy of hers that's been fulfilled? Furrowing her eyebrows, she failed to mask her worry as she wondered, “So this is just a one time thing then?”

Hating what she just said, Andy kissed the wrinkle in between her eyebrows as he spoke, “I don’t want it to be. I really want to be with you; if you’ll have me, of course.” A small smile rested on her lips as her eyes brightened up, “I’d want that and you. You’re so amazing, Andy. I admire your strength, resilience, and determination. For someone who could easily give up in life you choose to carry on and look forward to what the future holds. It’s just a bonus that you have a thick cock and know how to use it.”

Her small speech had him chuckling and kissing her nose, pulling her close against him, “What I said earlier was true; I love how you walk around the office like you own the place. You take no shit from people and do your job damn well. Plus, I love your music taste as well.”

Grinning at him she jeered, “Wow can’t believe you still sweet talk your way even if it’s not in a courtroom setting.” Andy laughed at her retort and just grazed his fingertips on her sides, tickling her so he can hear her giggle. Once both their laughter died down, their lips met for a sweet, passionate kiss. “We have quite a mess to clean up tomorrow, Andy,” Y/N reminded him as she referred to the champagne bottle, glasses, their clothes, and his sofa bed — their whole situation, really.

“I don’t care,” He whispered as smiled at her, feeling so much lighter and better having been haunted by his personal demons for so long, “I don’t mind doing anything as long as it’s with you.”

Her heart fluttered with his simple statement; she was then reminded of the new year countdown. Reaching out for his wrist, she checked the time and noticed how a few minutes had passed 12. “Happy new year, Andy,” She greeted him with a peck on his lips.

A short, sweet kiss was returned to her as he planted his lips on hers again — quickly getting addicted to her, “Happy new year, baby. Can’t wait to spend this year with you by my side.”

[dadsbongos]

Mommy Issues

Movie/Game/Show: Umbrella Academy Dynamic: Five Hargreeves/Reader (Platonic) Warnings: you’re a mom of two, maybe might be sad? Summary: Five has to pay a visit to the old lady. ~~~

“Come on,” she held out the can of beans, shaking it around slightly when the boy refused, “You have to eat, Five.”

He shook his head, continuing to mark up the book in his hands, “Too busy.”

“You’re never too busy to fucking eat,” (Y/n) huffed, grabbing the book from his hands and replacing it with the can of beans, “It’ll all be here when you’re done.”

Five pursed his lips but decided to not argue with the woman, “You’re lucky you’re the only person left in this hellhole.”

“How so?” (Y/n) crossed her arms, desperately attempting to hide her starvation, “I get to take care of a little boy?”

“I’m not a little boy, first of all. I’m thirteen, technically a teenager.”

The woman snickered, “What’s your second point?”

Humming through his chewing, Five quirked a brow, gesturing for her to continue.

“You said ‘first of all’,” she shrugged, reaching for the bottle of wine settled amongst the rubble of an old library, “Did you have a second point to bring up?”

When the boy didn’t respond, (Y/n) quietly laughed before looking at the book Five was so focused on since he found it. Extra Ordinary by Vanya Hargreeves, her brows furrowed as she picked it up and began flipping through it. Five nearly choked on his beans, “Careful with that.”

“I will be,” she calmly replied, tone softening at the shared surname between the two, “Was she your mom?”

Five shook his head, taking the book back, “Sister.”

“I’m sorry you have to go through this,” (Y/n) forced on a smile, reaching into her tattered pants’ pocket, “If it’s any consolation, I lost some people too.”

Just as he went to retort, a picture of two children was forced into his hand. A boy his age and a much younger girl, and suddenly he regretted every time he mockingly called her mom. Her sad smile was still painted on her lips as realization sunk its claws into Five, “Your kids?”

“Yeah,” she murmured, sitting up straight, “I took all the pictures in the house before packing up.”

“Since we’re learning about each other,” he held out Vanya’s book, “I think you should read this.”

(Y/n) nodded, opening up to the first page, “If you want, for whatever weird reason is in your genius brain, you can keep the picture. I have a lot.”

“Thanks,” he pressed the photo into his blazer pocket, “you can’t keep the book. I want that back when you’re done and don’t write in it.”

“Naturally.”

Silence broke over the pair until (Y/n) spoke again, much quieter than before.

“What?”

“Stop zoning out, creeper,” she ruffled his hair.

“Don’t baby me, (Y/n),” the thirteen-year-old boy snapped, still clutching his mannequin companion to his scrawny body.

In response, the woman rolled her eyes, “I’ll baby you all I want, Five, because in case you haven’t noticed, we’re in a wasteland and I’m the only adult alive.”

“So far,” the boy glared, “There could be some lonely Australian man across the ocean and we have no clue.”

She shook her head, “Well until we find him, I’m still going to baby you - because that’s what you are to me. A little baby in need of mothering.”

Five grumbled under his breath, “You’re more annoying than anything else at this point.”

(Y/n) didn’t verbally reply, only pulling up the scarf acting as the boy’s mask before continuing down the road. She turned when Five didn’t follow, nudging her head down the way, “Come on, I think there's a wagon we could find to carry supplies!”

A wagon there was, but only one. At least at that point. The grown woman huffed while looking around, “Put Dolores in, you’re rolling the thing with you.”

“What?” Five looked up at her, “But you’re the adult, aren’t you?”

“Which means I get to tell you to roll it around.”

The wagon would go to him then. The boy.

“What’re you thinking about?”

Five’s brows furrowed as he walked, lugging the dirtied thing behind him, “What are you talking about now, (Y/n)?”

She simply stared at him, a blank, empty stare, “What are you thinking about?”

Her eyes made him nervous now, they were devoid of any kindness and warmth they usually held when looking at him. Less like a loving mother-figure and more like the mannequin he held close at night. But even Dolores smiled every so often.

“Five!” she suddenly shouted, no longer walking. She rushed over, grabbing his shoulders, “Five!”

There were no hands on his shoulders, just the old, wrinkled one between his own hands. He blinked a few times, shaking his head before looking down to the elderly woman on the floor, “Sorry, what were you saying?”

“As spacey as ever,” (Y/n) chuckled dryly, coughing a few times between the laughter, “I asked what you were thinking about.”

“Oh, nothing much,” he lied easily enough, “Just how much I’ll enjoy you not bossing me around.”

The dying woman shook her head, using what little strength she had to smack his arm, “You’ve been a rude little boy since we met.”

“Well,” he shrugged, letting a soft silence fill the heated air, rubbing his thumb over the weathered bones in this old woman’s hand, “What about you? What are you thinking about?”

“My kids,” she smiled faintly, “I’m excited to see them again.”

Little Joan and Lacy, he’d heard about them countless times. Joan was about his age when the pair first met after the Apocalypse, dark hair and light eyes with freckles spread across his cheeks. Lacy was on the younger scale with little curls sprouting from her head and brown eyes like honey pots with a birthmark right on her forehead. Adorable kids, from what few pictures survived the fall of humanity.

“I wish I could’ve met them,” he grinned down at the faint woman.

(Y/n) nodded weakly, eyes fluttering shut every now and again, “You three would’ve been so cute together. Them trying to make you smile and you just being grumpy; like something out of a sitcom.”

Five’s eyebrows rose at the sentence, “Now I’m not so sure.”

“Stop,” she wheezed, patting at her chest, “You would’ve loved them…” it was quiet for a few more moments, “I’m worried about you too, you know? Being all alone after so long, I don’t want you to go completely crazy.”

“I won’t be alone,” he attempted to reassure, nodding towards their plastic friend, “I have Dolores, don’t I?”

“God, don’t get me started on that…”

“I really will be fine,” he gripped her hand a little tighter, “Don’t be worrying about me, I can handle myself, old lady.”

“One day you’ll be an old man, and then who’ll be laughing? Me, from the afterlife.”

Five wouldn’t admit it, but the thought of (Y/n) still being somewhat around comforted him, “I’ll be counting on it.”

“Better be.”

. . .

Five rubbed at his temples, stopping the Apocalypse built up a headache worse than surviving it. He pushed the doors to Griddy’s open, not having had one of their coffees since his first night into the present. He slid onto a stool at the counter, giving Agnes a nod when she waved at him.

Agnes went into the back and after a few murmurs, he assumed a new waitress would be serving him.

Looking to the right, two familiar faces came into view. His eyes widened, hands fumbling for the photo in his blazer pocket. After (Y/n) died he made a habit of keeping it around; felt wrong to go without it. He looked between the picture to the children.

The doors from the back opened up and a painfully familiar woman stepped through. She smiled at two kids, ruffling the boy’s dark hair and pinching at the girl’s cheek before going over to Five. 

(Y/n) shot him a grin, pulling a pad of paper from her uniform, “What can I get you today?”

Five didn’t answer immediately, stare fixated on the living, breathing, not-dead woman in front of him. Unlike in their years together, her skin was less dirt-covered, hands less crusted in ash and soil, hair more well-kept. She seemed healthy, happy. After realizing he was staring for far too long, he cleared his throat, pocketing the photo, “Sorry, I’ll have a coffee. Black.” 

“No donuts?” she teased, “I know they’re not top-of-the-line, but I never miss an opportunity to snag a few for my kids,” she pointed her pen in the kids’ direction.

“Well, I suppose I could get…” he looked over the menu before continuing, “a lemon jelly donut.”

(Y/n) wrote down the order, “Funny, that’s my son’s favorite.”

“What a coincidence,” of course, he knew that. He knew it fifty times over.

Nodding, she tore off the paper before walking towards the back, stopping at the two kids. The tiny glances from both child in his direction made it obvious he had been mentioned. Giving Joan and Lacy each a kiss on the forehead, (Y/n) made her way to the back kitchen.

Lacy looked between her older brother and the strange boy before getting down from her stool and skipping over to the brunette. She gave him a broad, pearly smile, “Hi.”

Five smiled slightly, turning in his seat to look at the girl properly, “Hello.”

Joan followed after his sister, smiling apologetically to the boy about his age while taking the girl’s hand, “I’m sorry about her.”

“No, she’s fine,” he waved off the other boy’s sympathies, “She's pretty adorable.”

(Y/n) returned from the back, carefully setting down the steaming coffee followed by Five’s donut, “Hope my kids aren’t bothering you. They like making friends with the customers.”

He shook his head, “Not a problem.”

Joan slid onto the stool beside Five, holding his baby sister in his lap, “Haven’t seen you around here before.”

Five nodded slowly, wrapping both hands around his warm cup, already feeling his headache begin to dissipate, “I used to come here a lot when I was younger.”

[dascarecrow]

Scarecrow Thoughts - Wandavision Ep. 6

Beware of spoilers 

-Title is “All-New Halloween Spooktacular!” So we’ve gotten to the Halloween episode. Was expecting it to be later in the series. 

-Opening credits are an homage to those of Malcolm In The Middle. Interestingly Agnes and Pietro both are credited during this. Hmmmm... 

-We get straight to the Halloween stuff and we get some solid personalities for the twins. Billy is the more thoughtful and tempered one, going into a diatribe about the spirituality of Halloween. Tommy is the snarky and abrasive one, thinking Halloween is just about candy. Nice touch, I wasn’t expecting much distinction between the two. 

-Billy is speaking to the audience directly, so I guess they’re going wholesale on the Malcolm in the Middle vibe. 

-Billy is dressed up in his Wiccan costume from the comics. Really didn’t expect that.  

-Pietro is sleeping on the couch while the twins debate waking him up, unaware that he just did and pranks them a bit. So Quicksilver is in the role of the looser, fun uncle here. About what I would expect. 

-Wanda hears the commotion and comes downstairs, dressed in her classic costume. The twins both get some depth with their responses. Billy guesses Old Red Riding Hood, showing some snark of his own. Tommy actually likes it, showing some sincerity and warmth but changes his opinion when Pietro claims it’s lame. 

-Wanda claims the costume is supposed to be of a Sokovian fortune teller. Nice bit of backstory, don’t know if that’s the case in the comics. I don’t think it is. 

-Pietro reminds Wanda of one Halloween as kids. Wanda remembers them getting a fish, much to their young selves revulsion. Funny scene but there is gunfire in the background so trauma rears it’s head again. Wanda claims she remembers the incident differently and Pietro notes she’s suppressed a lot of trauma. 

-Billy comments that Wanda had been acting oddly since Pietro’s arrival but puts it down to her not seeing him for a long time. Uh Billy if your fully aware of what’s going on then get a message to a nice lady named Monica Rambeau, she’ll be able to help you and your family. 

-Vision comes downstairs in his classic costume, which is simply great. We get an example of his and Pietro’s relationship which is mostly Pietro’s childishness clashing with his straightforward nature. Vision notes that Wanda hasn’t spoken about her brother much, which might be a big contributing factor to this whole mess. He also gives his opinion that Pietro is “great with kids”. Woah Vision did you just snark of your own volition? I know you got a dig in on Ultron but dang. You were built by Tony Snark after all. 

-Vision reveals that the costume was all that was in his closet, with the implication that Wanda made so it was all that he could wear. It also seems that Wanda has a thing for Mexican wrestlers. I did not know that. 

-Vision heads out on his own, much to Wanda’s confusion. He claims that it’s for neighborhood watch duties but Wanda is confused but it’s not what he’s supposed to do. Vision interrupts her and she stands down so he still has his awareness of things being wrong and Wanda can’t push too hard without more problems it would seem.  

-Billy comments on Wanda and Vision’s recent issues but Pietro notices him speaking to the audience. Intriguing. 

-The conflict gets settled with Pietro offering to step in for handling the boys tonight. He spooks Wanda with an in-show jump scare, which might hint at more sinister doings. Wanda comments he can’t for lack of a costume but he just zooms out with Tommy and both come back wearing their comic costumes. So good. Also this might be coincidental but Pietro’s hairstyle could also be devil horns. Regardless Wanda threatens to magic him into a pickled herring if he causes too much trouble. 

-Outside of the Hex, we get to enjoy the “How do you screw up a bad situation for the worse show.” Hayward has officially broken through the ice and I... I really wish he hadn’t. So from now on I will be calling him Haywad for he is unfit to be addressed by his actual name. 

-Monica calls Haywad out on his stunt with the drone while he tries brushing her off. Darcy snarks at how he got outdone last episode and he questions if Darcy works for SWORD. Actually a good question. She’s with Monica it would seem. Hayward gets his own moment snark by asking who’s the sassy best friend but good old Jimmy tells him off for trying to diminish the people who are actually handling the situation and know what their doing while also trying to start a fight with Wanda. 

- “Maximoff was never going to negotiate with us.” I’ll admit she probably wasn’t going to but trying to blow her up before even offering her a chance is a bit too far Haywad. 

-Haywad wants to take Wanda out as a quick and easy fix to things but Monica makes a point that they don’t know for certain that will happen or what else might happen if she dies while the Hex is up. A bit of a reach and I can see Haywad’s logic but I’ve heard worse rationales. 

-Monica continues her defense by pointing out that they don’t have anywhere near the firepower to outstrip Wanda and winding her up is just escalating things worse. As Monica puts it Wanda is the problem and also the only workable solution they’ve got. 

-Haywad is unflappable in his position, declaring Monica an impediment to the mission but he doesn’t stop there. He gets on her case for her defense of superpowered beings, even acknowledging her history with Carol. He goes on a rant about how the Snap devastated the world and how difficult choices needed to be made in light of what happened. The narrative almost paints him as a man pushed into a bad state of mind by how the world was ruined. And I call bullcrap. 

-Monica’s response? “Don’t use the last five years as an excuse to be a coward.” Oh yes! I hate it when people try to use their dark past as an excuse to lash out and lower themselves to cruelty. I also love it when these people get called on their bullcorn and have how selfish they really are laid out. Tragedy befalls us all... and life goes on uncaring of our struggles. 

-Heywad’s response is to belittle Monica by telling her it was a good thing she wasn’t here for her mother’s death because she doesn’t have the stomach for their work. Oh you son of a... those aren’t fighting words, that’s a full on declaration of war.  And he follows that up by ordering Monica, Darcy and Woo expelled from the area. 

-Woo notes that Heywad is overstepping his authority with this stunt. Oh Jimmy you magnificent so and so I could slap you with a wet pancake! I knew Heywad was up to something that could give him trouble and you just made that clear for the audience. This isn’t just a SWORD mission this is a co-op between them and the FBI. And the dorkrector just tried to force their main agent on the ground off the assignment for no reason. Oh ho ho, Heywad just put himself in the line of fire and I can’t wait for someone to pull the trigger. 

-Woo cold clocks the soldiers escorting them off base and Monica joins in, knocking them all out. “Why didn’t anyone tell me the plan?” Oh Darcy never stop being delightful. After stashing the soldiers and going with the old MCU standby of disguises that don’t really disguise you the trio gets back to work. 

-Back in the Hex the family gets going on trick or treating with Wanda taking the chance to question Pietro about their past. He knows she’s trying to test him, admitting that he looks different from how she remembers. He guesses that it’s because Wanda doesn’t want to be reminded of the past in her little bubble of paradise. Is he aware of what’s going on or what? 

-Pietro takes the kids off to get into some mischief while Wanda goes to speak with Herb. The brief sequence is hilarious but Herb reveals that Vision isn’t on duty for the watch. Then there’s a slightly disturbing scene where Herb asks if Wanda wants something changed. She declines but it’s clear something is going on. 

-Vision is off by himself and sees a couple repeating the motions of setting up Halloween decorations. One of them sheds a single tear. Oh not that cheap trick for drama again. Also eerie.... 

-We get to the commercial for the episode and it’s one of those claymation snack commercials. Which ends with a kid starving to death and turning into a skeleton trying to open the snack. Uh... Okay then. Let’s just go back to the... just as ominous parts of the setting. 

-Wanda makes the boys return the candy that Pietro helped them steal and is upset with how bad of an influence he’s being. Pietro notes he’s just playing his part, literally that is. He’s hitting all the boxes of the standard fun loving uncle in a sitcom. He says to Wanda that she wanted “to give you grief”. Okay hopefully Pietro’s presence is Wanda trying to work through the grieving process so she can figure out what’s going on and fix it. 

-Wanda questions Pietro’s missing accent and he fires back about how she’s missing hers. He claims that the details of his return are fuzzy, the last thing he remembers being his death before Wanda called for him. This does not prove it is the MCU version of Quicksilver with a facelift okay. It could still be the Fox version with MCU Pietro’s memories zapped into his mind. 

-The boys get excited about a candy score and Tommy literally zooms there and back with superspeed. He doesn’t even seem aware of it until Pietro points it out, at which point he does as children and has fun with his new powers. I just love how Wanda just catches him no problem while he’s zipping around, no powers needed. She lets the boys head off for some solo candy hunting but warns them not to go past Ellis Avenue. I know Ellis is the name of a comic worker I just can’t remember which one. 

-We return to the SWORD base for another installment of “Keeping your idiotic boss from destroying the world.” It is sad that there are actually enough moments like this in the MCU to be a thing. The trio find a computer room and Monica discovers Pietro’s presence in the Hex. “He brought the wrong face” So funny! Monica doesn’t want to hang around too long, which is smart. Darcy hacks into the computer systems for the compound, which is extra smart. Seriously a degree in astrophysics and computer hacking skills, what have you been up to in the... decade since we last saw you? 

-What does Darcy find? Well Haywad found a way to look through the boundary and didn’t tell anyone. I am so looking forward to his downfall. Turns out Vision is being tracked through the decay signature of vibranium, which I will admit is at least clever. The tracking method also shows the residents of Westview in Vision’s immediate vicinity. Good old Jimmy goes right into work mode, figuring that Haywad must have a near accurate head count and assessment of the residents wellbeing by now. He takes note of the denizens at the edge of the Hex barely moving and questions if they’re even alive. 

-Cue Vision discovering a group of completely immobile residents. Wary of the whole situation Vision assumes his normal superhero look and takes flight, discovering that the inner depths of the town are plenty active and behaving normally. This is a very well shot sequence just showing him flying and capturing the unsettling nature of what’s going on. While airborne Vision takes notice of a stopped car near the border. 

-Turns out its Agnes in the car. She seems to be in a mental short circuit at the moment. She asks Vision for directions... in a town she supposedly grew up in. Vision worriedly does his mind trick to free her suppressed personality and she quickly identifies him as an Avenger, believing he’s there to help everyone. Vision does want to help but is clueless about what an Avenger is, so it seems he hasn’t regained any of his memories yet. This leads to the “Am I dead?” discussion from the trailer. Vision needs it clarified for him that Agnes believes he’s dead. Several times. Vision wants to leave Westview to figure out what’s going on but Agnes questions how. No one leaves, which isn’t true you just have to tick off a reality warping witch. Agnes identifies that Wanda is the one in peoples head, preventing them from even thinking of leaving. While that does sound incriminating we still don’t know everything that’s going on so I’m staying hopeful. Agnes isn’t however as she winds up going on about how “All is lost” and cackling until Vision zaps her brain back into the illusion. So I guess she isn’t evil here. Once Agnes is back on her disturbingly merry way Vision makes his way to the boundary line. 

-Back with the trio Monica gets a response from her engineer associate who is coming with the way back into the Hex they started on last week and wants to head out to meet them. Darcy mentions they can’t do that. “Sure we can. I’m a whiz at hot wiring cars.” Ha ha ha ha ha! Okay that was funny. Monica thinks the worst case scenario is her getting whammied and dressed up again but it turns out Monica specifically can’t go back in because every time she crosses the boundary her cells get transformed. Monica balks at the data, mentioning she’s seen enough lab results for a life time. She goes on and talks about what she went through with her mother’s cancer and reveals that’s why she wants to help Wanda, because Monica has been through grief like her and wants to do what she can to help her through it. 

-Darcy chooses to stay behind so she can find what Haywad is hiding, feeling it could help them get answers about the whole thing. Monica and Woo aren’t crazy about the idea because of how dangerous it is but relent and go on their way. The Son of Odin would be proud of you Darcy. 

-Back in the Hex Wanda and Pietro talk about how nice Westview is and how their parents would have loved it. So of course Pietro ruins it by asking where the kids were until now. Okay that’s a bit unsettling. He thinks Wanda just had them asleep and didn’t want them traumatized, which starts getting her bothered. Pietro praises her for her handling of the ethical ramifications of her little bubble. Families and couples aren’t split up, most personalities are close to their normal ones, they even have better jobs. Pietro how do you know all of that? Wanda is surprised that he is okay with all of this, which sadly proves that Wanda is aware of what she’s doing. Pietro is actually impressed with how much Wanda’s powers have grown. 

-Pietro continues the ominous vibe by asking how Wanda did all of this. She’s reluctant to tell him but he wins her over with their familial bond. Wanda doesn’t know how she’s done all of this, just remembers overwhelming and all consuming grief. So we’re about where we started and what’s behind all of this. 

-Wanda takes a moment to compose herself and sees Pietro as his gunned down corpse for a moment, just like she saw Vision two episodes back. Pietro questions if she’s okay and balks when she tries to confirm she is. Seriously what is up with you Pietro. You better not be Mephisto I swear. 

-Darcy finds something called Cataract in Haywad’s files. The file says its Eyes Only so I think she can’t see what it actually is but I don’t know. She sends an e-mail to Jimmy before she notices that Vision has made his way to the boundary. And she notices because Haywad did. Uh oh. 

-Vision crosses the boundary but I wouldn’t say it’s successful. There’s an energy effect connecting him to the line, which seems to be trying to keep him in or pull him back in. Parts of Vision start breaking off and getting pulled back into the field. 

-And where is Haywad during all of this? Just standing there doing nothing while commenting on how much Vision must want to escape. Okay Haywad if your going to be a jerk and possibly evil then can you at least be smart at it. There is no reason for you to just be standing around. Unless your hoping that some part of Vision is still remaining for you to collect but I highly doubt that will happen. 

-Darcy charges in to try and help Vision but of course these guys are from incompetence incorporated so they keep her from helping. Oh Haywad is going to get the mother of all lighting bolts shoved up his rear when Thor finds out about this. 

-Billy is somehow perceiving Vision’s struggle at the moment hearing his fathers voice in his head. He stops Tommy with telekinetic powers and goes to Wanda to save him. 

-Vision is still desperately struggling and begs SWORD to help the people of Westview. Hero to the end that one. 

-Pietro makes a tasteless joke about Vision can’t die twice and gets blasted for the remark. Should not move mouth faster than brain can think. 

-Billy is able to to focus his powers to figure out what’s happening. They seem a bit different than Wanda’s. He’s either mentally linked to Vision in the moment or he’s clairvoyantly witnessing what happens. Billy worries that his father is dying. 

-Wanda stops the town cold in its tracks and focuses her powers. Monica and Jimmy notice that the field is moving so it seems that Wanda is expanding it. The SWORD agents try to flee and the one who cuffed Darcy leaves her behind, only to get abandoned by his fellow agents. Delicious karma. The restores Vision once it passes over him but it doesn’t stop there. The Hex keeps growing and expanding, ensnaring almost all of the SWORD personnel. Only Haywad and a few agents remain and I know this is a bad thing but in the immediate moment for him I can only think “Yeah Wanda zap him, zap him good.” We see the Hex growing without end and the episode ends with a cut to Wanda as the red glow fades from her eyes. 

Final thoughts 

-Can’t tell if this is the era for the 90s or the 00s. I’m personally ascribing to 90s because of the commercial fitting the aesthetic of that era better. 

-Evan Peters as Pietro is a delight. He honestly comes across as his character from the Fox movies dropped into the MCU and it is done very organically. I sincerely hope that he actually is the Fox version of Quicksilver brought to this universe because that would be amazing. 

-Haywad has officially used up my good will towards him. I was willing to give the benefit of the doubt until he brought Monica’s mother into things. That was just low and solely to hurt her. At this point it’s a toss up over Wanda zapping him, Vision rearranging his insides from the outside, Monica frying his rear end with her incoming powers or Woo getting him trouble through good old fashion legal fu. 

-I think we can safely say that the Vision sight we saw in episode 4 was just a hallucination as we see the same effects when Wanda looks at Pietro and Vision doesn’t wind up looking anything like his destroyed self from Infinity War once he crosses the boundary. 

-Liked what they did with Tommy and Billy. I was not expecting them to do much with the two but they already have their powers. I’ve been hearing rumors about the Young Avengers making their way to the MCU but its one of the teams I don’t really follow. If it happens great, if not I don’t really care. 

-Woo proves to be an MVP, schooling people with his words and decking them the heck out when he has to. You know mister Woo the United Nations is trying to put togethers a group known as the Agents of Atlas, could we interest you in a position. 

-It is fully confirmed that Wanda does know what is going and is willingly continuing it. There is a semi-confirmation that she is trying to do right by the people of the town like trying to protect the children but the fact is she knows she’s keeping them trapped so there had better be a dang good reason for wanting to keep this going or so help me Wanda we will get someone in there that takes you down. 

[bombshellbois]

Code 314

@harringroveweekoflove

Harringrove Week of Love Day 3: Car Sex

Rating: M 

Words: 2688

Summary: The story of Billy’s least favorite arrest for indecent exposure ever. And it’s all Steve’s fault.

There’s only one interrogation room in the Hawkins police station. That means Billy is left handcuffed to Jim Hopper’s desk while Steve is in the interrogation room. It’s dark in the station, aside from the yellow light framing the shade over the interrogation room window, and the lamp on Hopper’s desk. Fucking small towns. This is, without a doubt, the most unprofessional arrest Billy has ever had. 

Hopper emerges from the interrogation room and slams the door behind him. No Steve. Billy expects Hopper will sit down and pick up his phone and call Mommy and Daddy Harrington to come pick up their kid. Then it will be up to Billy to deal with whatever the fallout is. Hopefully Hopper didn’t make Harrington cry or anything, so Billy can still sort of respect him after.

Hopper does not reach for his phone.

No, he throws his hat on the desk and drops down into the chair hard enough that it scoots back several inches on the wooden floor. Folds an arm on the desk and leans in close to Billy, looking him square in the eye. He looks tired and sort of pissed. 

“Steve Harrington is a goddamn pain in the ass.”

“I know the feeling.” Billy has worn that look many a time, and exclusively from dealing with Steve. He can actually kind of sympathize with the cops on this one. “But if what he told you sounds like bullshit, he’s being straight with you this time.”

“Here’s what’s gonna happen.” Hopper picks up his clipboard where there’s a mostly blank form for citations. Only the top is filled in. ‘Code 314- Indecent Exposure’  “I’m not gonna finish filling this out.”

“I’m sure Steve will appreciate that. He’d be the talk of the country club.” Billy suspects that’s not a gift to Steve, though. For a cop, Hopper is okay. He’s let Billy off with 14 warnings for speeding so far. Neil has gotten 2 speeding tickets and had his car towed for illegal parking. 

“So you’re going to tell me what the hell happened and why it was a bad idea.” Hopper pulls the sheet free and crumbles it into a ball, tossing it into the trash can. “Then I can tick off the little box in my conscience that says you won’t do it again and we can all go home.”

Billy rolls his eyes. Jesus, he’s never going to be able to look Hopper in the eye again. “Come on, man. Didn’t Steve tell you?”

“I want to hear it from you.”

“Steve wasn’t lying. We really weren’t having sex in the middle of the woods. We were… look, I know it sounds like a lie, but we were... it was like therapy.”

Hopper’s eye twitches a little. “Police observation evidence would suggest otherwise.”

“I know what it looked like, but admit it. You can’t actually say you saw any dicks,” Billy pushes. 

“Just… tell me what you two were doing out there,” Hopper sighs. 

“What are any teenagers doing out there? You know what that spot is for.” Billy sighs and sits back in his chair. “But if you really want the gory details…”

***

“Would you stop wiggling?” Billy leans down and grabs the bottle of lube he shoved under the driver’s seat and flips the cap open. 

“I’m not wiggling,” Steve huffs, wiggling to try and… do something? Billy isn’t sure because it’s the back seat of the Camaro. There’s pretty much no room, and Steve sure as hell isn’t gonna find more by squirming. He’s just gonna make things harder.

Billy pauses and pinches Steve’s thigh, hard enough to get a hiss out of him. “Fucking hold still. I’m gonna make a goddamn mess all over the backseat if I have to try and catch you after I put this stuff on my fingers.”

Steve rolls his eyes, but he makes a ‘go on’ motion with his hand and then tucks an arm under his head. Billy grabs Steve’s ankle and braces it on his own shoulder. Steve squirms and drops it, hooking it around his waist instead. 

“Harrington. I’m not gonna guess where your asshole is, asshole. Not when it’s my seats under your ass. Work with me here.”

Steve groans unhappily but lets Billy hook an arm under his knee and haul his leg back up. “It’s too small back here.”

“Yeah, I know it’s fucking small, Princess. It’s the back of a fucking muscle car. Who’s fault is it that we can’t use your house?”

Steve’s face twinges a little. Fuck. Billy has his dick out, he’s hard, he’s got his boyfriend naked from the waist down, and now Harrington is gonna fondle his conscience. It works because yeah, that was probably a little below the belt. 

“Sorry, babe. It’s the blue balls talking. When’s the last time we went a week without fucking?” He leans in to press an apology kiss to Steve’s lips, until Steve whines. He actually whines, long and pitiful, and grabs Billy’s shoulder. 

“Too far. Bending it too far.”

Billy drops his eyes to the very naked leg braced against his shoulder. “What? I’ve practically had you bent in half before.” 

***

“Okay, stop. Stop!” Hopper waves his hands, looking a little pallid in his desk lamp. “That’s way more information than I needed.”

“You asked what we were doing up there,” Billy points out. “We were trying to fuck in my car. Like every other couple that parks up there.”

“But you weren’t in your car.” Hopper taps his desk emphatically. “There’s a fine line, Hargrove. Stay in your car and you’re fine.”

“We would have if Steve had followed his stupid recovery regimen like he was supposed to!”

“Recovery for what?” Hopper takes a breath, holding up his hands. Billy really should let that Byers woman know that this guy tries to follow her advice. “Just… go back to where this all started.”

“You’re the boss.”

***

“Practicing late again, Harrington?” Billy asks, glancing over as Steve comes into the showers. It’s just the two of them at this hour, and it’s been a good few days since he really ragged on him properly. How convenient. Steve just glares at him and dips his head under the water. “Ever thought about maybe just being good at the game?”

“Ever thought about shutting up, Hargrove? I hear it works wonders for people with your condition.”

Billy grins, holding his tongue between his teeth. That pisses Steve off endlessly. “My condition? Go on, gimme the punchline.”

“Being an asshole.”

“Someone is feisty today. Did—”

***

“No. No, not where you two started,” Hopper interrupts him. “Skip ahead to where this incident started.”

“Oh.” Billy shrugs. “Okay. It was the end of basketball season and we celebrated by me fucking Steve until he couldn’t walk straight.” He ignores Hopper’s heavy sigh. “Literally, too. But then the coach made us do hurdles the day after. That’s where it all kind of went downhill.”

***

Billy knows before Tommy even starts jeering that Steve is hurt. He lays there a second too long in the red dust of the track, the fallen hurdle tangled between his legs. Billy can tell that asshole is trying to figure out how to get up without looking hurt, because that’s the shit Harrington worries about. Sighing, he ‘accidentally’ slams his elbow back into Tommy’s stomach as he chucks his water cup into the trash before jogging out onto the track.

“Regular gym class hero, aren’t you?” he mutters, hooking his hands under Steve’s armpits and hauling him to his feet. 

“I’m fine,” Steve protests while trying not to put weight on his right leg. It’s a sort of pained hopping that’s not very convincing of being fine.

“Yeah, you look totally great.” Billy pulls Steve’s arm around his shoulders and waves to the coach. “Hey! I’m taking Harrington to the nurse!” he calls, and doesn’t pause to wait for a hall pass or whatever. He’s got Steve hopping around like the hurt asshole he is. That’s better than any hall pass out there as far as permission goes. 

Billy is surprised that when he dumps Steve onto the bed in the nurse’s station, he makes another pained noise and shifts to lay down. Then shifts again onto his side.

“What hurts?” he asks, sitting on the low, plastic stool that’s always by the wall. He figured they had an ankle or knee issue here, but that didn’t seem right.

Steve rest a hand on his right leg. “Thigh. Something in the back of it.” 

“Sounds like a hamstring injury,” Nurse Agnes says, bustling in and jamming a thermometer into Steve’s mouth. Nothing like a fever to pull a hamstring, Billy guesses. “Which leg, Mr. Harrington?” 

“Right,” Steve mumbles around the thermometer. 

“Don’t talk,” she huffs. 

“But you asked me—”

“On your back, Mr. Harrington.”

Steve grunts and shifts onto his back, looking over at Billy for solidarity. Billy just grins and splays his legs further on his stool, kicking one leg up to brace on the side of the infirmary desk. Steve turns the same shade of red he gets after a good hour in practice. He makes a vague swatting motion that probably means ‘stop it’ but he sure doesn’t look away. Billy just runs his tongue over his teeth at him, getting the red to turn two shades darker. 

Agnes’s diagnostic technique appears to be trying to shove Steve’s leg up towards his chest and seeing when he starts making pained sounds. Then she whips the thermometer out of his mouth and sweeps out of the room, tutting and shaking the thermometer and muttering about Steve running too warm. 

“I was in PE,” Steve calls after her, grabbing the pillow out from under his head and chucking it at Billy. “Asshole,” he hisses.

“Can’t help it. Kinda hot watching you get fondled by a sixty-something old woman,” Billy teases, tucking the pillow between his own head and the wall. “Thought she was gonna mount you any second.”

“Me too,” Steve admits, dropping his head back down on the stripe of sanitary paper on the bed. “It was terrifying.”

***

“The official diagnosis was ‘hamstring injury and a mild fever, young man.’” Billy says, leaning on the heel of his hand as best he can while he’s handcuffed. “She put him on ice for 20 minutes, gave him some cheesy printout about stretches, and told him to give it a few weeks to heal.”

Hopper unlocks Billy from the cuffs, and then unlocks them from the chair as well, securing them back to his belt. Billy has the vague urge to get up and walk out just because he technically can and that’s his normal response to authority. He does have the good sense not to piss off one of the few okay adults in Hawkins, though, and not to ditch his boyfriend at the police station. 

“Right. So Steve hurts himself and you just… forgot?” Hopper raises his eyebrows. “I’m sure you’re a more considerate boyfriend than that.”

Billy raises his eyebrows right back. “Based on… what?”

“Call it a hunch.”

Billy sighs and rubs his wrist. “Whatever you say, man. Anyway, that was over a month ago. I forgot about it once he was allowed back into the normal classes at gym. See, we don’t usually fuck in my car. Steve’s shitty parents are usually out of town. I thought the guy was secretly an orphan for a solid month after I met him because they were never around…”

***

“Why the fuck are your parents here for so long?” Billy groans, sitting low in the driver’s seat of the parked Camaro, letting his head loll out the window while he smokes a cigarette. 

Steve lights his own cigarette and rolls the passenger side window down. “For my birthday.”

Billy frowns and raises his aviator sunglasses, glancing across the car. “It’s not your birthday.”

“I know. But next month there’s a conference in Tokyo or something.” Steve blows a mouthful of smoke out of the car. 

“Okay, but… next month isn’t your birthday either.”

“I know.” 

Billy thinks about also pointing out that since they’ve been home, they don’t appear to actually be doing anything with Steve. He and Billy spend all their time in Billy’s car, complaining about not having a parent-free place for sex anymore. But he figures Steve realizes that already too. 

“Can’t believe we’re reduced to car sex at the local make-out point,” Billy sighs instead. “Surrounded by the other horny masses.” 

Steve looks out the window. It’s turning dusky already, and making it hard to see the other cars parked among the trees. Pretty soon it’ll be too dark to see any of them, until they finish doing the deed and turn on the headlights to drive away, one by one. “We could always wait for my parents to leave. Might be another few weeks though.”

Billy stubs out his cigarette in the ashtray. “Get in the back seat and get your pants off, Princess.”

***

“Skip the sex part,” Hopper interrupts him. “I don’t need to hear that again. Just skip to the part I drove up to.”

“Okay, so remember that stupid little care sheet the nurse gave Steve?” Billy shoots a glare at the closed door of the interrogation room. “Guess who didn’t do any of his stupid fucking stretching exercises?”

***

Billy kind of hates his life right now. And his boyfriend. His boyfriend who has probably locked his fucking hamstring up because he thought sitting on ice for two goddamn days was as good as actually stretching. 

“You’re the worst fucking athlete in the world,” he growls, grabbing Steve’s leg by the knee, kneeling in between his legs with their hips wedged together. It manages to be completely unsexy because Steve is an asshole, though. Billy is kind of mad at his own dick for staying hard through all of this. 

“Oh fuck you. You don’t get to talk when you’re having the stupidest overreaction in the world,” Steve snaps, gesturing around vaguely from where he’s laying in the grass in his t-shirt and boxers. “Everyone is probably watching us.”

“Everyone is probably fucking because they didn’t fuck up their leg as soon as their sport season was over.” Billy sets a hand along the back of Steve’s thigh and leans his weight in gradually. “So now I get to fucking play physical therapist with your ass until it loosens back up.”

Steve hisses at the slow stretch when his thigh is barely past vertical. “My ass is fine, thank you.”

“Not if I can’t get my fingers into it, it’s not. It’s useless. Your ass is useless right now, Harrington.”

***

“Okay.” Hopper taps the desk like he’s surrendering a wrestling match. “Okay. That’s where I came by on my sweep. We’re done here. Just… stop talking. And do that in the gym from now on. Wearing more than just your underwear.”

Billy stands up and stretches. “Told you Steve was telling you the truth. Can I have him back now?”

Hopper gets up from his desk and grabs his hat. “Steve didn’t tell me anything.”

Billy blinks at Hopper’s back. Now there was a surprise. 

Hopper opens the door to the interrogation room, spilling yellow light out onto the floor. Billy can hear Steve’s voice inside. 

“Unless you’re here to give me that phone call, we have nothing to talk about.”

There’s a heavy sigh from Hopper and the sound of cuffs being unlocked. “Please get out and go home.”

Steve steps out of the interrogation room, blinking around at the dark interior and rubbing his wrists. “Billy!” He scrambles over and grabs Billy’s arm. “I didn’t say anything. If Hopper said I did, he was lying. I never sold you out.”

“You can’t sell me out when we actually didn’t do anything wrong,” Billy sighs, resting a hand on Steve’s head and turning him towards the door. “But thanks. Come on, Princess. I’ll take you home before the phone here rings and it’s your mom.”

Hopper shuts the station door firmly behind them.

[soveryanon]

Reviewing time for MAG193!

- I think this was the first time that an episode immediately followed the previous one like this?

(MAG192) ARCHIVIST: He’s the pupil of The Eye…! JONAH (BACKGROUND): –from the now that is no longer– MARTIN: Meaning? JONAH (BACKGROUND): –even close to what the when– ARCHIVIST: He won. JONAH (BACKGROUND): –just might have been if there was time enough to run and hide from rancid deaths– [CLICK.]

(MAG193) [CLICK–] JONAH/ELIAS (BACKGROUND): –that stinks of hate– MARTIN: What do you mean he’s won? JONAH/ELIAS (BACKGROUND): –and wafts to him– ARCHIVIST: I mean, he’s done it!

We’ve had scenes separated by the tape recorder shutting off/on in the same episode (for example, Tim’s interview by Daisy in MAG082; Martin and Elias in MAG118 – with a scene taking place at the Unknowing in-between) and we’ve had episodes beginning shortly after the end of the previous one (MAG038 and MAG039, with Jon’s attempt to retrieve the tape recorder; MAG118 and MAG119 with Jon lost in the Unknowing…), but never a configuration like this, I think, with a click off and instantly back on? It makes me wonder about the separation between the two tapes, in universe: meta-wise, it’s obviously because the episode would have been too long and would have covered two statements, but why the separation through the tape recorders in the story…? Is it that someone is curating the collection of tapes? Is it because each tape is already overloaded with fear…?

- Anyway, I love how the episode immediately picked up after the end of the last one, with Martin asking the question we were all asking (what the heck do you mean, Jon, and what is Jonah’s current degree of consciousness, and does that mean he is happy/satisfied right now)!

(MAG193) MARTIN: What do you mean he’s won? ARCHIVIST: I mean, he’s done it! ARCHIVIST: He’s… a–ascended, become a part of The Eye, he… He’s beyond us. MARTIN: [TO JONAH] Just shut up, Christ! JONAH/ELIAS (BACKGROUND): –the promise of his own annihilation– ARCHIVIST: … He can’t hear you. MARTIN: So, so what? He’s not aware of us, of, of any of this? ARCHIVIST: No. Or if he is, it’s only as a miniscule speck amongst the flood of knowledge and fear that’s passing through him. He has become the conduit between this new world and the thing that watches it. It’s all running through him. MARTIN: Sounds awful…! ARCHIVIST: To someone so close to it, I imagine it would be a state of… agonised bliss.

* Straight to the point: Jonah probably “won” in a way since Jonah gets to be on top and is not suffering like the others (MAG160: “I am to be a king of a ruined world, and I shall never die.”), but the question of whether or not he’s ~happy~… is not easily answerable – same as with Daisy being “happy”, what value does it have when it comes with the loss of personhood?

* Lovelovelove Martin Kerosene Blackwood going “Oi, dickhead!” and now “Just SHUT UP” at his ex-boss’s ex-boss. It feels like Martin jumping back in time to scream at Elias every time he was opening his mouth in season 3.

* Things I thought a lot this episode: that description of Jonah’s state was so, so so horny. “as he floats and writhes in perpetual perception” in the descriptors last week, now “the floating fear conduit that is Jonah Magnus”, and Jon inferring that he’s in a state of “agonised bliss”. H o r n y.

- … Big Ooft for Martin’s reaction because it directly put to mind the season 5 trailer, when it had been about Jon:

(Season 5 trailer) ARCHIVIST: Yes, I, I’m trying not to, but… all of the fear, th–the anguish, i–it just… [INHALE] It keeps coming at me in waves, rolling over me, filling my head with such… awful sights. MARTIN: … I’m sorry. That sounds… [SMALL EXHALE] That sounds horrible. ARCHIVIST: … I wish it was, Martin. I really wish it was. … But it feels… right. [MIRTHLESS HUFF]

(MAG193) MARTIN: Sounds awful…! ARCHIVIST: To someone so close to it, I imagine it would be a state of… agonised bliss. I can… feel it, the… completeness of it all passing out from him. I can see everything from here, and that’s just a hint of what he must be feeling…

We knew Jon could feel the temptation since the beginning of the season. It wasn’t a surprise that Jon could already understand the state Jonah was in – and I love the contrast that was shown between the two:

(MAG193) ARCHIVIST: I can see everything from here, and that’s just a hint of what he must be feeling… JONAH/ELIAS (BACKGROUND): –that joined to his through choice or circumstance but now it stains his weeping edges– [RUMBLING SOUNDS START TO RISE] MARTIN: [WARNING] Jon… ARCHIVIST: … as he watches a man run screaming down endless dark alleys, that close, and crush, and press– MARTIN: [HARD WARNING] Jon… Stay with me. ARCHIVIST: Sorry. I–it’s a, it’s a lot…! MARTIN: I, I can see that, but you need to keep it together. ARCHIVIST: S–sorry, I–I think… I can handle it.

Jon slowly easing into the fascination and utter desire of leaning into the suffering was bone-chilling, from simple description while explaining to Martin, to utter ravishment. Jon-Jonah difference, though: Jon has an anchor, and it’s Martin!! And I love that we could see Martin as the two aspects of “anchor” that had been alluded to in the series:

(MAG099) GEORGIE: Look, you’re worried. I get it. But if you really think you’re turning into something… inhuman, you need people around you. You need anchors. ARCHIVIST: All my “anchors” are just as deep in this as me. GEORGIE: Well, you still need them.

(MAG129) I need an anchor. I… I could go in… myself, I, I could find her. And… then, I just need to get out. I need something out here. Something I can know the way back to. I, I don’t know what. But… [HUFF] It’s a start.

(MAG145) ARTHUR: [Agnes] never told us how she felt about being bound to you! Never even called you by name. Just called you “her anchor”. The thing weighing her down, and tying her to this world, stopping her destiny!

(MAG167) ARCHIVIST: Wi–without… trust, without a, a reason… Gertrude needed both the purpose her mission gave her, and the control her position allowed. To be here, like us, without a, [INHALE] a reason, without someone to ground her, she… She’d have power but… no control. No real… purpose. Perhaps she’d dedicate herself to a, a doomed quest like us, but– … [QUIET] No… I think this would have broken her. And she’d have resigned herself to… ruling her domain. […] MARTIN: [INHALE] [SNORT] Ssso. If you say Gertrude wouldn’t have been able to go on without a reason… ARCHIVIST: Yes, Martin, you are my reason.

Grounding in both cases but: both as the element allowing Jon to return to, protecting him from wandering, and as the element dragging him down. (Same thing, just depends on the perspective!)

I also like how Martin sounded firmer and more confident about his own ability to keep Jon grounded. He used to panic (sounding more aggressive and/or resorting to slaps to get him back), but now… he knows he can do it, that he’s enough to keep Jon from Beholding’s temptation.

- A lot of confirmation that Jonah is there but-not-really:

(MAG192) MARTIN: Can he hear us? ARCHIVIST: I… MARTIN: Does he even know we’re here? ARCHIVIST: I don’t… […] [SADLY] He can’t hear you, Martin. MARTIN: Yeah, I got that. What’s wrong with him? ARCHIVIST: Nothing. Nothing’s wrong with him. He’s the pupil of The Eye…!

(MAG193) MARTIN: [TO JONAH] Just shut up, Christ! ARCHIVIST: … He can’t hear you. MARTIN: So, so what? He’s not aware of us, of, of any of this? ARCHIVIST: No. Or if he is, it’s only as a miniscule speck amongst the flood of knowledge and fear that’s passing through him. […] He’s too far gone…! He’s barely even aware we exist. […] I–it’s far too late for either of them.

And damnit, I can’t help but be a bit sad about it! My speculations were even worse for him (No Mouth But I Must Scream, while hey, in the end, we got to hear him for two episodes!), but I was still hoping I could hear more of his gloating and/or pitiful regrets and/or fear… but he might not be in any state to feel and manifest such things. (And I’m guessing that Martin was really hoping for that too – minus the gloating.)

- Regarding Jonah’s “statement” / litany of horrors in the background:

* Last episode had given the impression that it was coming for his throat (“he” protagonist, lots of Fears but constantly cycling back to fear of death); this one was fluctuating more, from one victim to another. We began with “him”, “his”, “he”, we jumped to a “she”, then to a singular “they”, and ended on “herself”. So, Jonah seems to be taking glimpses of different victims going through their nightmares, sticking with them for a few scenes before jumping to follow another.

* Same as in MAG192, some bits felt like familiar descriptions of Fears! I spotted potential End (“him with promise of the fast approaching corpse that bears his face”), Extinction (“and holds within its chest the promise of his own annihilation”), Desolation (“splintered powder cast of empty blackened earth”), Spiral (“jumbled symbols twisting in the edges of his sight”), Lonely (“the emptiness around him but the mist that curls its bitter weeping ache around his legs”), Slaughter (“all the butchered ugly fates”), Hunt (“a smile upon the face of something grinning at her sharply”), Vast (“they look down to see the pitch black void of ocean getting darker still as something rises up that dwarfs the sky and yet they know it is the smallest tip of only one appendage reaching up”), and the episode finished on… Web (“glassy eyes and fangs that drip with poison”).

* Some bits reminded me in particular of Martin’s Lonely house (the “house she almost knows to be a home but empty hollow and devoid of all the trappings that could once have given comfort to the pale and weeping shadow of her life that has been left devoid and faded at the corners like a photograph whose sepia-tinted warmth has drained to just a crowd of faceless staring strangers”) and of Jan Kilbride’s experience in space and of Antonia Hayley’s creature underwater (something too big to be fathomable, making people feel meaningless in comparison).

* (Because I really wanted to be able to “hear” all the words from Jonah’s litany: I realised that the transcript skipped a small portion of the audio around 3’30-3’50, shortly after “tapestry of suffering that billows in the wind” and until it goes back to “to know she can’t resist the waves that lap and drag her over”… but I didn’t manage to make out anything specific from the audio either, I could just tell that Jonah kept talking in the background. No idea whether it’s genuinely a small piece of speech missing from the transcript, or if the recorded background litany was actually a biiit too short compared to Martin and Jon’s exchange and a little cover up was necessary to buy some time!)

* Same thing as last episode: overall, at first glance (/ear), Jonah’s horrors seem like they’re told without much inflections… but no: Jonah does occasionally give emphases and slow down or accelerate, it just feels less lively than Martin&Jon’s dialogue or Jon’s own dramatic interpretations.

* The “with a pull that makes her stomach drop to know she can’t resist the waves that lap and drag her over and across the surface still as cracked obsidian but deeper than the world could ever dream” felt especially awful because it really reminded me of Jon – with the Panopticon itself having been described as “obsidian”, Jon admitting that he had felt a pull towards it, and the overall threat of Jon losing himself, aka “drowning” (MAG127: “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–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, 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.” “What happens, if you open the door?” “… I drown.”).

* The last picture evoking a spider and The Web’s knack for control ended the episode on such a terrifying note, ahaha!

(MAG193) JONAH/ELIAS (BACKGROUND): –is so cold it is so coldly sneering as sticky strands pull taut against the flailing struggles as they try to pull away from what approaches in the distant edge of this colossal latticework of bone and sickly paste that twists and curls with each vibration of those fools like them now caught and wrapped and flailing in their heaving desperation not to see it looming over them with glassy eyes and fangs that drip with poison and the promise of the slow and steady agony of feeling all that was herself dissolved and broken down into the bitter pleading–

Getting restrained, seeing it approach while being unable to do anything (like an insect caught in the web) and understanding that it will be a long torture (spider injecting venom in its prey to be able to slurp their inside)… which, ahah, wasn’t ominous at all when we still don’t know what The Web/Annabelle’s interest in Martin&Jon is supposed to lead to.

* Most wonderful/awful part of it was the distinctive repetition of the “what have you done” and how they synched with Jon&Martin’s dialogue:

(MAG193) ARCHIVIST: S–sorry, I–I think… JONAH/ELIAS (BACKGROUND): –moved by others, or that might just now be his– ARCHIVIST: I can handle it. JONAH/ELIAS (BACKGROUND): –what have you done– MARTIN: Right, so what’s the play? JONAH/ELIAS (BACKGROUND): –what have you done what have you done what have you done– ARCHIVIST: I, I’m not sure…!

That was… quite distracting. And I love how it worked as the current victim’s feelings (who had apparently slaughtered a loved one in the nightmare?) and their guilt, but also resonated as Jonah’s own words (as if he was panicking over his own ritual) and as a jab at Jon (as someone who… came here).

- I love that Martin was back to being the resourceful one, trying to find weak spots and formulating hypotheses with what he understood of the situation!

(MAG193) MARTIN: Well… we came here to confront Elias– urgh, Jonah, whatever! So: how do we do that? ARCHIVIST: He’s too far gone…! He’s barely even aware we exist. MARTIN: And, I’m guessing you can’t… just destroy him like the others? […] Okay. So not that then, but… wh–what about something, like… physical? ARCHIVIST: I… What? MARTIN: Look, I know it’s all about… dream logic and metaphor and all that… stuff, but, you know, what if we just… what if we just grabbed him and, you know, pulled him down? Or, or just threw something heavy at him? ARCHIVIST: Uh… I, I don’t… MARTIN: O–or–or, what about, hum… That’s Elias’s body, right? I mean, yeah, they’re obviously Magnus’s eyes, but that’s still a Bouchard body up there so… So maybe, Magnus’s original body is just… still lying around here somewhere? That, that was a weakness before the transformation, so… maybe we could still use that! ARCHIVIST: It’s gone. Ashes swept away by the winds of ecstatic terror. What you see up there is all that remains. MARTIN: Right. [SIGH] Right, right, right. … Is the original Elias still in there somewhere? ARCHIVIST: He’s, uh, I– MARTIN: Maybe we could get through to him somehow? […] Was that the real Elias, is he still in there then? ARCHIVIST: No… No, it, it was… an echo. The last spasm of a corpse. I–it’s far too late for either of them.

It’s not a novelty – we have regularly seen him being practical, suddenly revealing that he had been thinking about how to solve a particular problem for a while already, thinking about his plans, discarding ideas and trying new options:

(MAG022) MARTIN: I think I might have… lost my mind a bit, then. It all… feels very… strange, blurry. I–I remember stamping and stamping as–as more made their way under my doorway. I–I remember grabbing every towel, sock, bit of fabric scrap that I could find, stuffing them under the door, into the cracks around the window. Anything where a slender worm might crawl I made airtight. And then I sat there and waited.

(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. [HEAVY SILENCE] Look, you guys got to go home every day, okay. I didn’t! I’ve been thinking for a long time about what to do when… well, y’know, this happens.

(MAG118) MARTIN: We… [SHAKY INHALE] We need to leave. MELANIE: We “need” to kill him. Look at you! He needs to die. MARTIN: … No. [INHALE] No, I… I knew what this was gonna be.

(MAG162) MARTIN: –so, I’ve actually had a couple of bags packed for a while, now! [HEAVY ITEM DROPPED] ARCHIVIST: Oh! MARTIN: And, I found some rope in the attic, and I packed that with the maps. ARCHIVIST: [CHUCKLING] Uh, Martin, I… MARTIN: No, no; I, I know what you’re going to say. [RUMMAGING] “What good are maps when the very Earth has…” and blah blah blah…

(MAG186) MARTIN: So. This price. What do you think? Are we going to have to kill Jon? ALSO MARTIN: … I don’t know, because you don’t know. But… it seems like something we should at least consider. MARTIN: … I… have thought about it, and… I won’t. I, I don’t think I could…! ALSO MARTIN: Mmhmm. MARTIN: But anything else? Any other price? I’ll pay it. ALSO MARTIN: Even dying? MARTIN: Yeah!

(MAG189) MARTIN: It’s fine. Maybe there’s another way in. What’s this thing made of anyway, like, like, obsidian or something, right? ARCHIVIST: One-way mirrored glass. MARTIN: Of course it is. Well, if it’s just glass, then it won’t be hard to break, right? We can just grab something heavy, like one of these cameras, and then all I need– [GRABS SOMETHING AND THERE IS A WET, FLESHY AND YET PNEUMATIC-LIKE SOUND] ARCHIVIST: Oh, I wouldn’t. MARTIN: Oh! Oh! Eurgh… [GAGS]

In comparison, Jon has kept the role of explaining the dream-logic, of how they sometimes had to proceed in compliance to the domains to go through them (“the journey will be the journey”, explaining to Basira that she had to see the “monster” in the domains she had traversed in order to be able to catch up to Daisy)… but he’s been lacking out-of-the-box imagination to deal with them.

- I love the hilarity of Martin offering to drag Elias’s body down or to yeet things into his face – I mean, I had thought about it, too! But it’s so satisfying to hear Martin suggest it ♥

(And technically, he has all the items necessary. He had mentioned packing that rope when they had left the cabin, and they have an infinite supply of tape recorders.)

- Sobbing over Martin and how one of his first ideas was to attack Jonah’s original body… since we know he’s been feeling guilty about not killing him when he had the chance:

(MAG158) PETER: There is… of course… just one other complication? [FOOTSTEPS STOP] You’ll have to dispose of the current occupant. 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. If you want to take his place, well… MARTIN: … I’ll need to kill him. PETER: Yes. Don’t worry, though. I brought a knife. […] Martin. What are you doing? MARTIN: I���m… saying no. I refuse! Game over. [KNIFE CLATTERING ON THE GROUND]

(MAG186) MARTIN: [HEAVY SIGH] If we’re glad, why do I feel so… ALSO MARTIN: Guilty? Because you feel guilty about everything. MARTIN: That’s… That’s not– […] If I’d done what Peter had asked… If, if I’d not chickened out, and just killed Elias when I had the chance…! ALSO MARTIN: Really? Really, that’s how you’re choosing to remember it? “Chickening out”? MARTIN: I remember it was the wrong choice…! ALSO MARTIN: You choose to remember it that way, and so the guilt– MARTIN: [SIGH] I–I get it, all right? But I need it, I, I choose the guilt, because… ALSO MARTIN: [LEADING] “Because”? MARTIN: Because it motivates me to do better!

(MAG193) MARTIN: O–or–or, what about, hum… That’s Elias’s body, right? I mean, yeah, they’re obviously Magnus’s eyes, but that’s still a Bouchard body up there so… So maybe, Magnus’s original body is just… still lying around here somewhere? That, that was a weakness before the transformation, so… maybe we could still use that! ARCHIVIST: It’s gone. Ashes swept away by the winds of ecstatic terror. What you see up there is all that remains. MARTIN: Right. [SIGH] Right, right, right.

* No way to compensate for back then, that body doesn’t exist anymore. But I’m glad he thought about it and asked! Since I did ask myself the same questions!

* No “remains” in the title, but Jon did drop the word in relation to Jonah in the episode! It’s almost a tradition titles-wise for episodes pertaining to Jonah (MAG040, “Human Remains”: involved Gertrude, but it was still ~a body found in the tunnels~ (and Elias gave a statement during that episode); MAG092, “Nothing Beside Remains”: letter addressed to Jonah, read by Elias; MAG127, “Remains to be Seen”: letter addressed to Jonah, and Elias speaking for the first time in season 4).

* It’s interesting how the concept that Jonah’s original body had already disappeared made it sound like he was already diminished. The only traces left of Jonah are his eyes (since he transplanted them from body to body), and his consciousness… but he’s not exactly there with Jon&Martin anyway. It’s like he’s partially gone already, and likely doomed to entirely disappear without gaining anything back.

- Aouch for Jon confirming that turning Beholding against himself might result in a disaster:

(MAG193) MARTIN: And, I’m guessing you can’t… just destroy him like the others? ARCHIVIST: No. God knows what would happen if I called upon The Eye to try and destroy a… vital piece of itself. In the best-case scenario, nothing happens. MARTIN: And worst-case? ARCHIVIST: No idea…! An enormous explosion that… destroys the world? We get torn apart, but… still suffering, o–or cast off to the edges of the fearscape, maybe? I… I don’t know.

With Jon still pointing out that he “doesn’t know”. He has ideas, he has fears, but he isn’t sure either; and just like his hesitations in front of the Panopticon, I wonder if it’s not Beholding trying to hold him back by feeding him orientated bits that Jon would interpret as undesirable scenario…? (I’m curious about that mention of “the edges of the fearscape”: it means there might be something still, out of the Fears’ reach?)

- This was the second time Martin sort of “prompted” a statement by orienting Jon towards it:

(MAG167) MARTIN: I bet Gertrude would be able to do this, you know? She, she would eat a hellscape like this for breakfast…! [SILENCE] ARCHIVIST: I… don’t think she would have done very well here… MARTIN: No? ARCHIVIST: No… MARTIN: Do you… know that…? [STATIC RISES] ARCHIVIST: [DEEP INHALE] “To say that Gertrude Robinson never had a friend would not be true.”

(MAG193) MARTIN: … Is the original Elias still in there somewhere? ARCHIVIST: He’s, uh, I– MARTIN: Maybe we could get through to him somehow? ARCHIVIST: Ah… Sorry, it isn’t that… Ah… [CEASLESS CHANTING CEASES] MARTIN: Again? But you just did one for Ro– … Ro… [REALISATION] Oh no…

And I get why it’s happening (Martin is asking Jon questions about something he didn’t know already, so he has to think about it and search for the answer… and the answer is not that simple, and unearthing information that Jon didn’t know or hadn’t processed, leading to a full statement), but I wonder if it happens specifically thanks to Martin. If Basira were to ask the same questions, would it lead to the same result? I’m thinking again to the hypotheses that had been formulated after MAG160 and Jonah calling Jon an “archive”, with Jon as the archives while Martin could work as an Archivist: given that Martin had sometimes been in the position to ask questions and orientate Jon’s powers, there is a bit of a feeling that Martin is curating Jon’s powers, sometimes…?

- It was almost poetic that Jon began to fall into the statement… precisely when Jonah was narrating about Something emerging under the surface:

(MAG193) MARTIN: … Is the original Elias still in there somewhere? JONAH/ELIAS (BACKGROUND): –and cry in panic at their howling crew– ARCHIVIST: He’s, uh, I– MARTIN: Maybe we could get through to him somehow? ARCHIVIST: Ah… JONAH/ELIAS (BACKGROUND): –to ready for a harrowed doomed escape– ARCHIVIST: Sorry, it isn’t that… Ah… JONAH/ELIAS (BACKGROUND): –from what begins to rise below them– [CEASLESS CHANTING CEASES] MARTIN: Again? But you just did one for Ro– … Ro… [REALISATION] Oh no…

And then, both Elias and Martin shut the heck up and listened to Jon.

- At this point, I wasn’t expecting a statement about the original Elias anymore! I was curious about it, but didn’t really count on it since Jonny hadn’t seemed that interested in the potential prospect of saying things about him, in the season 4 Q&A (unlike the Admiral question, which clearly gave the impression that he was hiding something specific). Shouldn’t have trusted him on that!

- I was so excited in the first few seconds of Jon’s statement bubble because the sound in the background was once again Elias’s clock, indicating his office!

(MAG193) [STATIC RISES] [PANOPTICON SOUNDS FADE] [CLOCK TICKING IN THE BACKGROUND] [OCCASIONAL RUSTLE OF PAPER] ARCHIVIST: “He recognises those eyes”

Since the beginning of season 5, I was crossing fingers that we would hear the sound of that damn clock again, and we heard in in the last two episodes, so that’s cool!

(… I still wonder if Barnabas’s bones are hidden inside of it.)

- Just Little Interview Things: Martin, Rosie and Elias all noticed Jonah’s eyes.

(MAG170) MARTIN: … At least I’ve got a job now. Did I tell you I’ve got a job? I mean, the interview was weird, I… I don’t really remember the man who talked to me. Just his eyes. They stared at me; th–through me, and… and, I–I knew that he knew what I’d done. God, I…! I was so scared, but… but then he smiled and shook my hand…! What was his name? [CREAKING] He said I “had the job”…! [CHUCKLE] That he “looked forward to working with me”! … I was still so scared I could barely move my arm…! I was so terrified I’d let him down…!

(MAG192) ARCHIVIST: “His eyes, though, were different. There was something in them that… unsettled her. They didn’t match the rest of his face. They were cold, and grey, and somehow so much older.”

(MAG193) ARCHIVIST: “He recognises those eyes. He’s seen them all his life, watching him, judging him, cutting through him so no part of him was secret or safe. They peel away the armour, his carefree smile and practiced shrugs. They are the eyes of his father, and they stare at Elias over an old mahogany desk, sat in the face of a man who said his name was James Wright. His interviewer smiles with his mouth, but the eyes are the same. […] Elias can’t look this man in the face, and tell him that he is what scares him. That his eyes, the curiosity and judgement that pulses out of them… they terrify him in a way he can’t put into words. He feels that prickly panic building in the back of his skull, that worry that spills through: he knows. […] Those eyes stare, impassive and stern as ever, but… is that a twinkle of satisfaction? As though he has been given him an answer he likes. […] He stops. Those eyes. They know. They can see right through all his bullshit, right to the core of him. They know what he really thinks. […] Elias’s stomach tightened at the memory, the fierce judgement in his father’s eyes. Even laid out in a casket, it was as if he had looked at Elias with disdain. […] Yet somehow he found himself sat across from this man, whose smile hadn’t moved the whole time – and whose eyes seemed to know why he was here far better than he did.”

* Elias’s own fears in relation to those eyes and to Jonah’s overall behaviour reminded me of Martin’s a bit, with them being terrorised at the idea of being known, because they knew they had things to hide (including who they were).

* Still howling at the daddy issues/projecting the father image onto Jonah, what a concept.

* It still cracks me up how terrifying and ominous Jonah felt during these interviews… because it’s absolutely not something we could feel about Elias in seasons 1 and 2, when the impressions he gave off were “bland” and “doesn’t exactly know how to exert authority (and gets annoyed at some points when Jon is pushing against that)”. Was he going all out in the interviews overall? Did he get less In Your Face in the 2010s? Did Tim, Sasha and Jon kind of repress how terrifying their own interviews had been, or assumed it was just the jitters colouring their memories? Jonah sounded especially snobbish and haughty in this episode, way more than is usually heard from him: I wonder what part was the tangible, objective truth, and what part was Elias Bouchard’s own perception of him colouring the statement (since Elias was feeling like this guy knew about him and his secrets and had power over him, then he remembered him with these intonations).

* “Sometimes, I’m eating.” he told Basira in season 4 when he was in prison – was he conducting mock interviews on other inmates or officers for dinner.

* That said, I love Jonah’s unsubtly going directly to the point with Elias – immediately aiming for fears, doing his best to be unsettling and make Elias lose his footing and make traumatic memories resurface. I wonder if in this case, it was because Elias “dared” to think he could use the Institute for his own gain and carreer, as if Elias could outsmart him? Or because there was the question of what had brought Elias here? (I! really! want! to! know! about Jon’s own interview!!)

- THE MAHOGANY DESK IS CANON!!

(MAG193) ARCHIVIST: “[…] they stare at Elias over an old mahogany desk, sat in the face of a man who said his name was James Wright. […] Beyond that stretch of polished mahogany, so well waxed that Elias’s pale, sweating face is clearly visible, James Wright’s smile remains unchanged.”

I just can’t believe it’s now canon… because, cough. When I wasn’t yet listening to TMA but trying to gauge whether or not I would like it through fancreations, I had noticed the trend of associating Elias with a letter opener and a mahogany desk in fanfiction (before understanding that oh, okay, no, it’s just that yeah, it fits his aesthetic, but it’s not referring to specific canon things). So this takes me back, and I can’t believe that the damn mahogany desk in Elias’s office was canon all along =D

- I was hoping for a dual statement with lines shared between Jon&Jonah, I was so close yet so far!

(MAG193) [JONAH/ELIAS IS A DARK, STATIC-VOICED ENTITY – EACH LINE A CRACKLING MIX OF DEEP INTONATIONS YET STILL CHARACTERISTICALLY ELIAS] JONAH/ELIAS: So tell me, Elias. What are you afraid of? ARCHIVIST: “Elias Bouchard freezes in place.”

* There could have been the question of whether Jonah’s voice in the statement was the Jonah-in-the-room or emanated in Jon’s statement (like the usual background sounds)… but: it was Jonah!Elias’s voice. It wasn’t Jonah!James’s vocal chords. Plus, unlike the usual sounds and distant voices or breaths in Jon’s statement, Jonah really sounded like something intruding: his voice was clearer and came with glitchy static, as if… two different spheres (domains?) were interacting unnaturally. Jonah’s voice didn’t feel like it was part of the statement: it felt like Jonah was forcing his way to interact in it.

* I loved the play around roles that happened in this statement! In summary: Jon was telling the (third-person, internal focalisation) story of Elias Bouchard, occasionally impersonating him through direct speech, in order to answer to his interviewer from back then, Jonah, who was back then possessing the body of James Wright, and is in the present possessing Elias’s body and speaking through his vocal chords. Jonah gave his lines as Jonah, but the fact that Jon gave Elias’s words, that we got to hear the real Elias through another voice? That was such a pretty installation.

- It’s interesting comparing Elias’s job trajectory because it reminded me of Sasha a bit?

(MAG193) ARCHIVIST: “Why would he ask him something like that? Elias is applying for a research job – what the hell does that matter?” […] JONAH/ELIAS: Good. The job is yours.

(MAG049) ARCHIVIST: 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.

(MAG039) SASHA: I’ve had to retreat into Artefact Storage. That should tell you something about how bad it is out there. God, I hate this place. … Did I ever tell you I first joined the Institute as a practical researcher? I had to analyse and investigate all the stuff in here. Take notes after sleeping in the rusted chair, write in the memory book, all that sort of thing. I transferred after three months. Would’ve quit, but couldn’t afford to back then.

So Elias might have been hired as a practical researcher just like Sasha? I wonder if it’s a general researcher thing for new hires at the Institute… (If it is: did it happen to Jon, too? But I’m also having some thoughts about the idea of Jonah sending his potential next hosts there. Wouldn’t have liked for it to happen in canon, but dang, the concept of Jonah!Sasha does have a certain appeal.)

- Not surprising for Magnus but: I love how a few mentions tend to lead the fandom to assume things about characters, and those things turn out to be true, but not the whole truth. Until now, we only had a few allusions to who the real Elias Bouchard was:

(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. [CHUCKLE] Was he… like that when he first came to work here…?

(MAG154) ERIC: Mary probably thought it was funnier if you didn’t know, and… Wright would have preferred you not to know…! How is he, by the way? GERTRUDE: James? He died about… twelve years ago. Elias is Head of the Institute, now. ERIC: “Elias”? Elias Bouchard, seriously? GERTRUDE: Hm, he has changed a lot. ERIC: Must have!

So: given the degree and the Uni, we could guess he likely came from a posh family and had basically paid to get his degree. We knew the rumours about him doing pot. We knew that it had surprised Eric to learn that this Elias Bouchard would become Head of the Institute. And: all those things are true! Elias indeed, came from a privileged background, indeed smoked weed, indeed wasn’t brilliant, but all these elements got recontextualised with more depth.

* Even Jon immediately wondered if Elias had been a known pothead when he was hired at the Institute… and no, “of course” Elias wasn’t quite that carefree:

(MAG193) ARCHIVIST: “He feels that prickly panic building in the back of his skull, that worry that spills through: he knows. He knows I’m high…! The thought leaps to Elias’s mind for only a second before he remembers that… he’s not. He hasn’t lit up all day, of course not, he’s got an interview. But even so, he can’t shake the familiar paranoia. He looks again at his would-be employer, who seems like he’s about to repeat the question. “Spiders,” Elias says quickly. “I’m afraid of spiders.” […] JONAH/ELIAS: Now tell me: why do you want this job? ARCHIVIST: “Elias tries not to visibly sigh with relief. This, at least, is a question to which he has prepared an answer. He clears his throat slightly, shaking off the lingering image of Allan’s body. “W–well,” he begins, “I’ve always had the greatest respect for the work put out by this institute on mythological traditions, especially some of the recent papers on Indo-European traditions which was very useful for my dissertation on–”

He was still a regular smoker, but he came sober and had prepared for that interview! He wanted that job and had done his research to perform well! (Which, honestly, is… not a given in interviews.)

* The posh family thing was… kind of heart-breaking, actually:

(MAG193) ARCHIVIST: “They know what he really thinks. A position in a small, obscure little academic organisation, the first step on a path to the position he actually deserves. This place could be anything, as far as he is concerned. Medical research, a grant foundation… it doesn’t really matter. […] His father’s words came to him again, as they always had, through childhood, boarding school, university. “You’re a smart boy, Elias, but you’re lazy. You have every advantage that I and this world could possibly provide, and yet you insist on squandering them! Don’t think I don’t see you, looking at those other children with envy, as though their meaningless little lives could contain anything of substance, anything for a Bouchard to aspire to. You are better than them, and they know it. And it is your job to prove worthy of that distinction.” Elias’s stomach tightened at the memory, the fierce judgement in his father’s eyes. Even laid out in a casket, it was as if he had looked at Elias with disdain. What should he say? [PIANO STOPS] That he had no idea why he wanted this job? That he was all alone in the world, no friends, no family, nothing but the deep certainty that he deserved better. That he was destined to be important. That it was in his blood.”

There was something plain sad about Elias’s upbringing – how, sure, he came from a privileged family, but he was also looked down on by his own father, who still hammered a toxic mindset into him to the point that even when his father died… Elias still felt like his only possible role was the one his father had attributed him. It reminded me a bit of the statement in MAG180, about the abusive mother still haunting the victim even through death, and the feeling that they could never escape her influence.

And the feeling of superiority made Elias unpleasant! And he had already benefitted from his family by getting a degree he had barely earned! And got the advantage of knowing the social/expected cues to get what he wanted (hence using the right vocabulary and reasons to get hired during his interview)! And he might have grown up continuing to be a terrible person, unable to change this mindset and fucking lots of people over, like the privileged class tend to do! … But from what we know of him, he didn’t have the time to do that last part, or even to possibly change and free himself from a mindset that was also poisoning him. It’s like Jon had pointed out to the Distortion, about “classic” Helen:

(MAG187) HELEN: You haven’t looked into Helen-Classic’s past yet? You should try it! I don’t think you’ll like what you find. ARCHIVIST: What, lying to real estate clients? Bit of a prick at parties? Secret Tory? HELEN: Yes. To all of them, actually. [BAG JOSTLING] [FOOTSTEPS STOP] ARCHIVIST: And that’s the problem. I could have grown to dislike her, but… you made sure that sort of thing could never happen. Now you use her form, see her mind, but they’re just… tools. [BUILDING CREAKS] Michael had nothing you could use but a razor-straight desire for vengeance, but you saw something in Helen that would work on me much more subtly. So you took her. And I’ll never get to dislike her. I’m stuck disliking you instead.

Maybe the real Elias could have grown into an awful, powerful adult man. Maybe he could have changed and unlearned his father’s toxic lessons. We don’t know; he didn’t manage to achieve much and got eaten by a bigger shark when Jonah took possession of his body, and we’re stuck disliking Jonah instead. I like how it worked both as an exploration of how the privileged class tend to entertain myths about themselves, how they reproduce their awful mindset from generation to generation, leading them to perceive themselves as “superior” and deserving of more (we all have those political and economical classes, sadly), but also how that requires fucking these same people over until they conform to that mould and these expectations.

* I love how it turned out that even the “pothead” thing didn’t feel like it was unrelated to the fact that Elias had his own issues: he didn’t come from a loving family, was often high… and he also resorted to drugs to help Allan calm down. (Which was the worst thing he could do: don’t give drugs to a friend when you suspect they’re hallucinating.) It felt like the drug thing really was his way to cope, hence trying to get Allan out of his spiral through it…

- I’m screaming again at Jonah’s relationship with The Web – SPILL IT, WHAT DO YOU KNOW, WHAT WERE YOUR OWN WEB EXPERIENCES, ASSHOLE.

(MAG193) ARCHIVIST: ““Spiders,” Elias says quickly. “I’m afraid of spiders.” James Wright nods, the smile curling into one of satisfaction, though Elias is sure the man doesn’t believe him. Those eyes break contact for a moment, flicking up to the corner of the office where… at the edge of a bookshelf that sags with age and weight, a small cobweb has started to form.” JONAH/ELIAS: Very wise. A very… sensible fear. ARCHIVIST: “It is. Yeah, it is. But is it… true? For a moment, Elias really can’t remember. Right here and now, the thought of a spider genuinely repulses him. The image of a scuttling, filthy creature, eight eyes glinting out in the darkness, crawls into his mind, and he shudders, looking away for a second. [SHUFFLING] But the uninvited thought keeps going. [SCUTTLING SOUNDS] He imagines the spider moving up his leg, his body; he imagines feeling its bristling hairs against the skin of his shoulder, his throat, his cheek. Its spindly probing legs finding their way up his face. Elias can’t stop himself picturing that spider sat there, venom dripping from fangs that hang, poised over his eye. He can’t shut his eye.”

* Was it just a random cobweb. Was it a signal from The Web that it had been what sent Elias to Jonah.

* “a small cobweb has started to form” was such an amazing wording because: 1°) if you take the sentence literally, it means that the web is forming itself (no spider is weaving it) – it’s just appearing, like a trap or a story, as a mirror to Elias who is sealing his own fate by joining the Institute, 2°) if you assume it implies that a spider is creating that web… where is the spider? Is it hiding behind the bookshelf or somewhere in the office? Is it Jonah himself? (Web!Jonah Web!Jonah Web!Jonah…)

* Elias’s vision was SO CHILLING. The sounds effects (spiders scuttling) were terrible; the gradation was terrible; the last picture was horrible (Web as a predator for Beholding?). What was it, exactly? Jonah implanting the mental picture into Elias’s head? A forgotten memory from Elias? A premonition of what was to come…?

- I gushed about the office clock but: just like with Rosie, the memories following each other had all their distinctive sound effects. Jonah’s office had the clock. The memories of Allan’s corpse and of Allan’s last night had a sort of fast-paced metronome in the background. The memories of Elias finding Allan with his book at the library had another clock, also a bit faster than in Elias’s office. The alternations built up the anxiety and tension, gave the impression that everything was accelerating, and that time was just following its course – that it was impossible to go against it.

(It reminded me of the clock in Jon’s hospital room, when Oliver gave his statement in MAG121, reinforcing the story Oliver was giving about the impossibility of escape: “That was it. That was our fate. Where we would always be. Because I was going to take us there. Running was pointless. To try and to escape from my task would only serve to fulfil another.”)

- The book Allan came across didn’t seem to have the Leitner bookplate, but that doesn’t mean anything about the nature of the book itself since Leitner was just applying his mark on pre-existing books. Still: we know that Elias joined the Institute in 1991, so those memories took place before the fall of Leitner’s library (which happened in 1994):

(MAG193) ARCHIVIST: “Allan is in the library, irritated at the interruption, but happy to see a friendly face. The whites of his eyes are riddled with the scarlet veins of sleeplessness, but his hand trembles with a feverish energy as he tries to explain the significance of the book he’s found. Even sober, Elias couldn't have followed what his friend was saying, lost in layers of theological scholarship – but he smiles anyway to see the reserved young Allan so passionate about his subject. He looks at the book itself. It’s old, crumbling, with none of the usual college library markings. He asks Allan where he got it, and his friend doesn’t answer, instead glancing around with a sudden self-conscious suspicion. Elias shuffles round to get a closer look at the pages, then stops in confusion, as he realises they are all blank. Allan only laughs when he says so. Was the laughter really that cruel…? Or is it just the warping of memory, the past he tries to forget, mixed with the nightmares that came after, the faces he dreamed of seeing in those pages.”

* Once again, where did these books come from…? Did they directly emanate from the Fears? Were they part of older Archivists’ collections, were they statements from older times? Were they part of Johann von Württemberg’s tomb, did Jonah let the books free to ensure that they would terrorise more people and create more Fears? … Are Jon’s own tapes forming another collection through another medium…?

* I wonder whether the blank pages meant that Elias wasn’t under the book’s spell, or whether it meant that whatever horrors it contained had been freed already. Jon had noted that when MAG125’s book had been found blank, it had seemed like it didn’t have any power left:

(MAG125) ARCHIVIST: Another Leitner, obviously. Not one I can readily identify, though it sounds like it would now be… “inert”, anyway. Given the blank pages, I do wonder whether its destruction was a… last-ditch effort to stop its effects, or the exact thing that released its power in such an… extreme way.

But we also had Albrecht’s case, where the pages were blank to Fanshawe’s eyes while Albrecht didn’t find anything strange with them, though those might not have been the original books in the first place…

(MAG127, Jonathan Fanshawe) “I do not know how he died. I saw nothing and no one with him, and his body seemed whole and undamaged. But I do have some idea as to why it happened. For as I filled those dead shelves with freshly bound volumes… I could not help but notice that every page was blank. I have since checked with Payne’s, who I believe to be your preferred bookbinders. And I know that the books poor Albrecht was returning to the grave… were not the books that were taken. I hope they bring you much wisdom, Jonah, for the cost was dear enough.”

Overall, there were a lot of elements reminding me of Albrecht’s discovery in the Black Forest, though it might just have been Beholding Things:

(MAG022, Albrecht von Closen) “It was the man from the cemetery. His wide brimmed hat was removed and he stared at me. His head was completely bald, and his eyes were missing. They were just empty sockets but they stared at me. They saw me. Believe or dismiss anything else in my letter as you wish Jonah, but I swear to you that I stood face to face with a man with no eyes and he saw me.” […] ARCHIVIST: Something else I stumbled across quite by accident during my research was in Grim Tales, H.T. Moncreef’s exploration of unexplained and macabre deaths in early 19th century Europe. It mentions a death that took place in Schramberg in 1816. The man, one Rudolph Ziegler, was found dead at his home on the outskirts of town. What is interesting is that it says he worked in service on an estate nearby. Shortly after his death, one Wilhelm von Closen was investigated for the crime, as it was discovered the dead man had been stealing jewellery from the estate. It was eventually dropped however, after four doctors attested that the ferocity of the wounds inflicted on Herr Ziegler were, and I quote, “beyond the capability of human violence”. It was ruled an animal attack.

(MAG193) ARCHIVIST: ““It saw me,” Allan keeps saying, over and over again, “It saw me through the pages. And it’s coming.” He sees it, he says, in every mirror, every distant doorway, a silhouette on every skyline. Coming closer, each and every time, finding its way towards him, step by step. “It has no eyes,” Allan sobs, “so it has to feel its way towards me. But it knows. It knows!”

[…] When the light comes on, Elias has no idea how much of the crimson that bathes the scene is from the blood on the walls, how much from the blood that tints the lightbulb, and how much is simply the shading of his memory.”

- ;; The snippets of Elias and Allan’s relationship were so sad… Elias was intoxicated, granted, but the fact he was just happy to see Allan’s enthusiasm all the while he couldn’t understand anything about it? The fact that he tried to get him high to make him feel better:

(MAG193) ARCHIVIST: “Elias has no way to comfort him. He can’t even understand what he’s talking about. And so on that, the last night of Allan Schreiber’s life… [LIGHTER BEING TURNED ON] he just gets him high, and leaves him to sleep it off.”

… and that was the last time he saw him alive…?

(MAG193) ARCHIVIST: “When the light comes on, Elias has no idea how much of the crimson that bathes the scene is from the blood on the walls, how much from the blood that tints the lightbulb, and how much is simply the shading of his memory. But he remembers so clearly what he was thinking as he looked at what was left of Allan Schrieber: where are his eyes…? What did they do with his eyes?”

- Delighted about the glimpse regarding the Institute offering Actual Documentation:

(MAG193) ARCHIVIST: ““W–well,” he begins, “I’ve always had the greatest respect for the work put out by this institute on mythological traditions, especially some of the recent papers on Indo-European traditions which was very useful for my dissertation on–””

There had been a few references to people getting or not the credentials to consult the library, and Melanie had required Jon to vouch for her and grant her access to it back in season 2, but I think this is the first time we hear about actual publications from Institute researchers! And it’s not a big surprise that they would be involved in mythology studies and the likes – outside of the Archives, it felt like the Institute was working like a “normal” academic institution, so it feels logical that they would research what was believed to be supernatural in older civilisations.

- I’m still laughing so much at the piano playing Chopin’s “Funeral March” in the background when the flashback with Elias’s father happened. And then, it jumped to him being dead and in the casket.

- Gotta love the tradition of Jonah only hiring people who were isolated and/or had an experience with the supernatural.

* Elias pointed out in his statement that his father had already died and that he had no connections anymore, when he joined the Institute (“he was all alone in the world, no friends, no family”), and he had lost his friend Allan to a Beholding creature in uni (so, a matter of a few years or months before).

* Michael Shelley had lost his friend Ryan to a Spiral creature, thus leading him to the Institute (MAG101: “After much searching and despair, it drove him into the waiting arms of the Institute, where he met Gertrude Robinson.”).

* Rosie had just divorced and was left bereft (MAG192: “Because I let my imagination and paranoia wreck my marriage, and now I’ve got nothing; and if I don’t get a job, I’m just sitting around an empty flat staring into space.”), and she might have had a Corruption encounter as a kid (or it was just mundane insects).

* Martin had to drop out of school to provide for his own mother at seventeen, so there was likely no more family he could rely on around him.

* Jon’s only family member was his grandmother, who died roughly around the time he joined the Institute. He’d already had a Web encounter as a child, knew that the supernatural existed, and Jonah pointed out that his Web mark may have been a reason to hire him (MAG081, MAG160).

* The Stranger took Danny, prompting Tim to join the Institute – and Elias had pointed out that he already knew the broad gist of Tim’s feelings (MAG104: “I knew there was some trauma that drew you to us, but I can’t say I ever thought to look much deeper. An oversight, perhaps, but I’m looking now.”).

* Melanie came back with a recent Slaughter mark and her entire network collapsed around her (MAG084: “God, I’m kind of at the end, you know?” “The end of what?” “Everything. Friends, clues, savings. Everything. Options. There’s nowhere left for me to go. I don’t know why, but… I just, I just felt that perhaps coming here might help.”), leading Jonah to NYOOM onto her spectacularly fast.

* Basira had more than her fair share of Section 31-worthy encounters and mentioned her father in the past tense (MAG117).

Gotta love how apparently, any orphan-or-almost with a supernatural encounter could waltz into the Institute and technically get hired. You don’t have many connections around you and you’re traumatised? Have fun working here, job is yours.

- I’m SUPER interested in the moment Elias began to get self-conscious about his presence there, asking himself why… and not being able to answer.

(MAG193) ARCHIVIST: “… Where had he heard about this job opening? Had it been in a newspaper? He knew no-one who worked here, but received a letter anyway inviting him to interview. [SHUFFLING] Now that he thought about it, he hadn’t even sent out a CV. Yet somehow he found himself sat across from this man, whose smile hadn’t moved the whole time – and whose eyes seemed to know why he was here far better than he did.”

We’ve had cases of people being drawn to the Institute after their trauma: Tim wanted to understand what had happened to his brother, Jon might have wanted to understand the forces at play behind the Mr Spider book, Michael Shelley was drawn to the Institute in the same way, etc. In their cases, we can’t really know how much was their own curiosity and how much the Institute itself influenced them to head its way (if there is any difference): was it Beholding attracting people with trauma behind their curiosity? Was it The Web pushing a few people to go to the Institute, such as Jon? But whatever drew Elias towards the Institute, there is the fact that he apparently received a letter although he hadn’t submitted his CV in the first place… so who had sent it? I didn’t feel like it was Jonah (though his questions could have been rhetorical); was it specifically The Web, sending someone already traumatised by a Beholding encounter and the fear of getting his eyes stolen? Did Jonah interpret it as a gift from The Web (kind of “here, this is your next host”), just like he had with Jon, hence him looking at the cobweb forming in his office?

(MAG160, Jonah Magnus) “I’ll admit my options were somewhat limited, but – my God! When you came to me already marked by The Web, I knew it had to be you. I even held out some small hope you had been sent by the Spider as a sort of… implicit blessing on my whole project, and… do you know what? I think it was…!”

- Favourite moment of the episode: when Jonah cuttingly asked Elias why he had come here.

(MAG193) ARCHIVIST: ““I, uh…” Elias’s voice wavered, paused. “I’ve always had the greatest respect for the work put out by this institute on mythological traditions, especially some of the recent papers [STATIC RISES] on Indo-European traditions which was very–” JONAH/ELIAS: Enough. Tell me: why are you here? ARCHIVIST: “I… I don’t know.” JONAH/ELIAS: Were you drawn here? ARCHIVIST: “… Yes. I was.” JONAH/ELIAS: Against your will? ARCHIVIST: “No.” JONAH/ELIAS: Then why did you heed the call? ARCHIVIST: “Because… this is the place I know I should be.” JONAH/ELIAS: Good. The job is yours.

* Jonah’s questions suddenly getting razor-sharp.

* Elias absolutely losing his façade and answering quickly, straight to the point. Did Jonah actually compel him back then…?

* The fact that the scene worked on three levels: as James interrogating Elias within the story; as Jonah interrogating Jon in the present… with the additional level of Jonah interrogating Jon from the past, maybe – asking why Jon had come to the Institute six years ago.

* The dread coming from Jon’s voice! It was impossible to guess whether he was still fully impersonating Elias’s own, or if it was Jon himself, breaking character and getting startled by the questions.

* It was terrifying as ~Jon answering to Jonah in the present as to why he had come back to the Panopticon~: when Jon answered “this is the place I know I should be”, it already introduced the idea that he was ~meant~ to take Jonah’s place as The Eye’s pupil…

- I wonder whether Elias had actually gotten that flash in the past:

(MAG193) ARCHIVIST: “Elias has the briefest of flashes – a sudden burst of terror, an image of himself, strapped down, helpless. [STATIC FADES] [DISTANT LOUD, ECHOING SOUNDS] The vanishing of well-known faces, and the harsh sneers that replace them as they stare at him. He cannot move. He cannot scream. What is happening? What is it, that he feels deep down in his skull? What are they doing to his eyes? This… presence, old and rotten, in his mind? He can do nothing but watch.”

* That last sentence was such a Beholding mood.

* Was it a memory of James Wright’s own demise, as Jonah had invaded his body, that Jonah had been tauntingly showing Elias? Was it a retroactive fast-forward: Elias, knowing of his fate, colouring the memories of his interviews with what would happen to him? Or was it a genuine premonition which had hit Elias back in 1991, with the idea that Elias’s fate was sealed when Jonah told him “The job is yours.”, and that his only future would be the one we knew of – that in five years, he would become Jonah’s next host…? (Beholding’s powers had never been about seeing the future, though, and Jon has pointed out this season that he couldn’t know about it entirely…)

- Ahahah for the end of the statement reminding me of Jon’s own words in the liveshow…

(MAG000) ROSIE: ARCHIVIST: Yes, thank you Rosie. … Oh, do tell Elias thank you. For the opportunity.

(MAG193) ARCHIVIST: “The moment passes, and Elias returns to himself. He tries to smile, and thanks his new employer for the opportunity.”

SOB.

- On the one hand, it’s been two statements at the top on the Panopticon already, and on the other hand, I can’t help but hope for a less-flattering Jonah statement extracted/told by Jon (bonus point if it does include the scene of Jon’s own hiring interview or promotion)…

Interestingly, the last two episodes have been digging progressively deeper into the past: Rosie’s statement began after “Elias” became Head of the Institute, with her interview, and followed the events surrounding the Archival staff until the Change (late 2015 – October 2018). Then Elias’s covered the pre-Jonah!Elias years, with his interview and a flashback into Elias’s recent past with Allan and a few other memories.

- At the start of the episode, Martin had the reflex to call Jonah “Elias” before correcting himself, which is something that happened almost systematically all through this season, both from Jon and from Martin:

(MAG161) MARTIN: [SIGH] Gloating, Jon. [CREAKING SOUND] Elias won, and there were some tapes he’d kept for himself, and he wanted to gloat. So, he sent them! ARCHIVIST: He’s not… MARTIN: I–I don’t see– ARCHIVIST: … “Elias”.

(MAG162) ARCHIVIST: No, no, lo–look… I, I–I was listening, and I–I was filled with this… hatred. This anger; I–I wanted to leave, and hunt down Elias, a–and…! […] MARTIN: Do you think it’ll do anything? Confronting Elias?

(MAG164) MARTIN: What about Elias? [STATIC INCREASES] ARCHIVIST: He’s inside the Panopticon; the Tower, far above the world.

(MAG167) ARCHIVIST: Annabelle, help us with “what”? Our–our, our journey, killing Elias, vanishing the Entities – what?

(MAG174) MARTIN: Thanks for that. … Hang on, you’re still down to kill Elias, right? Uh, oh, Jonah, whatever.

(MAG177) ARCHIVIST: I didn’t mean to, Elias was… We were all playing out this big ritual for him. With me as the lynchpin, the gate. […] BASIRA: … So what’s your plan? MARTIN: Long-term? Elias. He’s up in that that… “Panopticon” tower thing.

(MAG178) MARTIN: It’s, it’s fine. [INHALE] We’ll just have to tie them all up in one go! ARCHIVIST: Hm? MARTIN: [SIGH] Around Elias’s neck.

(MAG186) MARTIN: If I’d done what Peter had asked… If, if I’d not chickened out, and just killed Elias when I had the chance…! […] What, like with Peter and Elias? […] Whatever happens with Elias, wi–, with the rest of the world… I can’t live on the misery of others.

(MAG187) ARCHIVIST: I see. How long have you been working with Elias?

(MAG188) ARCHIVIST: I suppose they don’t get many new faces around here. MARTIN: Especially not the Archivist…! Don’t forget you’re a celebrity! ARCHIVIST: Maybe. Or maybe it’s Elias’s personal welcome wagon.

(MAG189) ARCHIVIST: Uh, m–me versus Elias – Jonah, we… We both draw power from The Eye.

(MAG190) ARCHIVIST: I was… the catalyst, I–I didn’t… Elias– Jonah Magnus used me.

(MAG192) MARTIN: [CALLING] Elias! Jonah, Jonah Magnus!

(MAG193) MARTIN: Well… we came here to confront Elias– urgh, Jonah, whatever!

(Most notable exceptions being when Jon was approaching the Panopticon in MAG189, and tended to allude to him as “Jonah (Magnus)”, and when he told Rosie that they had an appointment with him).

At the end of this episode, though, Jon thought to make the distinction:

(MAG193) MARTIN: Was that the real Elias, is he still in there then? […] ARCHIVIST: I could kill his body, sever the link, break The Eye’s power, and… Jonah Magnus would die. […] If we kill Jonah Magnus… I take his place.

I wonder if from now on (well, for the 7 episodes left…), Jon&Martin will have less trouble calling him “Jonah” instead of “Elias” like before. It was understandable that they would call him “Elias”, since they had always known him as such… but now, we have had a glimpse at who the real Elias was. It might help them to accept to conceptually distinguish the two?

- It sounded to me that Jonah stopped his chant when Jon gave his statement:

(MAG193) JONAH/ELIAS (BACKGROUND): –she can’t resist the waves that lap and drag her over and across the surface still as cracked obsidian but deeper that the world could ever dream as something wakes and shifts below they grab the wheel and cry in panic at their howling crew to ready for a harrowed doomed escape– ARCHIVIST: Sorry, it isn’t that… Ah… JONAH/ELIAS (BACKGROUND): –from what begins to rise below them… [CEASLESS CHANTING CEASES] […] ARCHIVIST: [TREMBLING GASP] JONAH/ELIAS (BACKGROUND): … as they look down to see the pitch-black void of ocean getting darker still as something rises up that dwarfs the sky–

Jonah’s chant wasn’t incoherent in itself: it followed a succession of scenes and pictures, but there was still a logic through that flow. When Jon began to give his statement, the scene was taking place at sea, with a “they” subject (I think there was a gender-neutral victim and a plural “they” in the same scene?); when his chant resumed afterwards, the scene and subjects were the same as before. So it’s likely that it’s not just that we couldn’t hear Jonah anymore, but he flat-out interrupted himself. If this is indeed the case: does it mean that every time Jon gave a statement this season, Jonah stopped his own litanies of horror? And since Jon pointed out that Jonah is now part of The Eye: does it mean that Beholding can’t focus on two “statements” at a time and/or that it will prioritise Jon’s own litanies of horrors when he has to tell them?

It reminds me of Elias’s own known weak spot, as it had been used against him in season 3:

(MAG110) BASIRA: Or maybe when he’s not paying attention. MARTIN: Mm? BASIRA: Distracted, like, during your, hum, your performance review. MELANIE: Wait, what do you mean? MARTIN: Yeah, what…? BASIRA: Well, I was heading out, and… Martin, you remember you knocked over that huge stack of papers? MARTIN: Hey, hey, they shouldn't have been there in the first place. Besides, I cleaned them up. BASIRA: But not in the right order. MARTIN: [HUFF INDIGNANTLY] BASIRA: And… when I brought them up to Elias yesterday, he asked why they were messed up. MARTIN: Y– … you didn’t tell him it was me? BASIRA: … It’s not the point, Martin. The point is– MELANIE: He wasn’t watching you! He was busy.

(MAG118) ELIAS: Now, if you’re quite done, I am very busy. MARTIN: Oh sorry! Sorry, I’m not keeping you from the show, am I? W–well, well you head back, I’ll keep myself busy here. Albrecht von Closen is next, [PAPER RUSTLE] I think.

(MAG120) ELIAS: I knew you were all planning something, of course, but I didn’t believe you specifically would have the, uh… capacity for boldness that you displayed. Hm! 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.

So, mm… if this is the case, Beholding turning its focus on Jon might be used against it, in the same way? I don’t know what for but… there was that this episode.

- Even Martin noticed the difference ;;

(MAG193) [STATIC RISES AND FADES] [THE PANOPTICON SOUNDS RESUME] ARCHIVIST: [TREMBLING GASP] JONAH/ELIAS (BACKGROUND): … as they look down to see the pitch-black void of ocean getting darker still as something rises up that dwarfs the sky– MARTIN: Are you all right? That was… intense. ARCHIVIST: Yeah… Uh… I just… uhh… JONAH/ELIAS (BACKGROUND): –and yet they know it is the smallest tip–

I really wonder how that statement looked, from the outside (or at least from Martin’s point of view). Did Jonah lower himself closer to Jon to say his lines as “James Wright”? Did the whole room change and show the “set” of Jonah’s office, and then of Elias’s university days? 

- I’m super-impressed that Martin managed to keep track of his initial question!

(MAG193) MARTIN: Right. [SIGH] Right, right, right. … Is the original Elias still in there somewhere? ARCHIVIST: He’s, uh, I– MARTIN: Maybe we could get through to him somehow? […] Was that the real Elias, is he still in there then? ARCHIVIST: No… No, it, it was… an echo. The last spasm of a corpse. I–it’s far too late for either of them. MARTIN: Oh, damn. ARCHIVIST: There was never anything we could have done.

And that he immediately connected that it was probably the statement of a person – not of an overview of them like Jon had done with Gertrude.

Jon’s answer, though ;; It had been a huge fandom interrogation after the Jonah reveal: was the original Elias still in there somehow? Watching and being unable to do anything sounded like a fitting Beholding torture, and the statement toyed with the concept too (“He can do nothing but watch.”). In the end, we still don’t know when Elias’s consciousness faded (when Jonah took full possession of his body? Gradually over the years? When the Change happened?), just that he’s not there anymore.

- Lots to cry about when it comes to Jon’s reveals and Martin’s reactions:

(MAG193) ARCHIVIST: There was never anything we could have done. But I–I saw… MARTIN: What? ARCHIVIST: You were right. MARTIN: About what? ARCHIVIST: His body is vulnerable. A–at least to me. MARTIN: … What’s the catch? ARCHIVIST: I could kill his body, sever the link, break The Eye’s power, and… Jonah Magnus would die. MARTIN: Okay, that sounds good but…? ARCHIVIST: But… that wouldn’t actually harm The Eye itself. And with him gone it would… JONAH/ELIAS (BACKGROUND): –of those fools like them now caught and wrapped– ARCHIVIST: … it would choose a suitable replacement. MARTIN: Oh. ARCHIVIST: If we kill Jonah Magnus… I take his place. MARTIN: Oh, god…

* Martin immediately understanding that no, it’s not a Good scenario, that there is a cost or negative consequences coming with it. (Well, or he was simply able to read the room: Jon would have been happier, if it was a hopeful option.)

* Martin was so keen to kill Elias for the whole season:

(MAG174) MARTIN: Thanks for that. … Hang on, you’re still down to kill Elias, right? Uh, oh, Jonah, whatever. ARCHIVIST: I’m still going to confront him. [INHALE] I don’t know if killing him is something I’m even… capable of, but if I can and I have to, I will. MARTIN: Yeeah? ARCHIVIST: Don’t worry. I won’t hesitate. MARTIN: … Right.

(MAG177) BASIRA: … So what’s your plan? MARTIN: Long-term? Elias. He’s up in that that… “Panopticon” tower thing.

(MAG178) MARTIN: … Yeah. I guess. [INHALE, EXPLOSIVE EXHALE] God, I hate all of these… loose ends…! ARCHIVIST: I’m sorry. MARTIN: It’s, it’s fine. [INHALE] We’ll just have to tie them all up in one go! ARCHIVIST: Hm? MARTIN: [SIGH] Around Elias’s neck. ARCHIVIST: … Ah.

(MAG186) MARTIN: If I’d done what Peter had asked… If, if I’d not chickened out, and just killed Elias when I had the chance…!

(MAG189) MARTIN: This is it, then. ARCHIVIST: This is what? MARTIN: Don’t play dumb. It’s the final battle, right? We… climb the tower, take out the bad guy, figure out how to change the world back, and back in time for tea! Right?

… And we had loads of hints leading us to believe that Jonah was either dead already (well, in a way, he already is), and/or that killing him would not change anything to the situation (confirmed!), as already displayed with the domains’ rulers getting exterminated by Jon without leading to any improvement for the victims (Not!Sasha, Jude, Jared) – at the very least, we could guess that Martin was very unlikely to actually get to take his negative feelings out on Jonah.

I love the little twist that this is actually worse than that: if they were to kill him, it would mean losing Jon too, yay!

* Overall, it’s very fitting with the season 5 exploration? Martin focused so much on Jonah who, granted, was the one to scheme for the apocalypse to happen, but he’s now confirmed to just be another cog in the Fear machine – and just like a cog, he’s replaceable. The problem has always been the Fears themselves.

- Jon has been shutting down a lot of options regarding what he could do and what might happen, lately:

(MAG191) MARTIN: … Jon. If… When we defeat The Eye, the Fears… What happens to you? [SILENCE] ARCHIVIST: Nothing good. I think it depends on what actually happens. If we figure out a way to defeat them, banish them somehow, kick them out of our reality and back to where they came from, I might… survive? I think I’d stay more or less like this; w–weaker, but fundamentally… still an avatar in a world where the Fears are… once again lurking on the edges. MARTIN: … But I assume that’s the best case scenario? ARCHIVIST: Depends on your point of view, I guess. In the long term all we’d have done is… bought some more time. … If, however, we… find a way to destroy or, uh… eliminate the Powers… I’m not going to be okay. There’s… too much of me that’s part of The Eye now. I don’t… know what would be left of me without it. Maybe I just… die. Maybe I survive, but I–I lose… something. My identity? My mind? My… memories? I don’t know.

(MAG193) MARTIN: And, I’m guessing you can’t… just destroy him like the others? ARCHIVIST: No. God knows what would happen if I called upon The Eye to try and destroy a… vital piece of itself. ARCHIVIST: In the best case scenario, nothing happens. MARTIN: And worst case? ARCHIVIST: No idea…! An enormous explosion that… destroys the world? We get torn apart, but… still suffering, o–or cast off to the edges of the fearscape, maybe? I… I don’t know. […] MARTIN: O–or–or, what about, hum… That’s Elias’s body, right? I mean, yeah, they’re obviously Magnus’s eyes, but that’s still a Bouchard body up there so… So maybe, Magnus’s original body is just… still lying around here somewhere? That, that was a weakness before the transformation, so… maybe we could still use that! ARCHIVIST: It’s gone. Ashes swept away by the winds of ecstatic terror. What you see up there is all that remains. […] MARTIN: Was that the real Elias, is he still in there then? ARCHIVIST: No… No, it, it was… an echo. The last spasm of a corpse. I–it’s far too late for either of them. MARTIN: Oh, damn. […] ARCHIVIST: I could kill his body, sever the link, break The Eye’s power, and… Jonah Magnus would die. MARTIN: Okay, that sounds good but…? ARCHIVIST: But… that wouldn’t actually harm The Eye itself. And with him gone it would… it would choose a suitable replacement.

And I really wonder if it’s to discard these options, or to introduce them as concepts because some are indeed meant to happen…

- I’m screaming that Jon’s realisation explains so well what had happened back at the cabin:

(MAG162) ARCHIVIST: “This place wishes to be our tomb. But The Eye does not wish that. No. [STATIC RISES] The Eye wishes instead that it be my chrysalis. [WOODEN CREAKING SOUND] It is time that I emerge…” [STATIC REACHING A PEAK] […] MARTIN: Look, Jon, I… I, I know it hurts, but you’ve just got to… ARCHIVIST: No, no, lo–look… I, I–I was listening, and I–I was filled with this… hatred. This anger; I–I wanted to leave, and hunt down Elias, a–and…!

(MAG193) ARCHIVIST: But… that wouldn’t actually harm The Eye itself. And with him gone it would… it would choose a suitable replacement. MARTIN: Oh. ARCHIVIST: If we kill Jonah Magnus… I take his place. MARTIN: Oh, god… ARCHIVIST: And I think… that’s exactly what it wants…!

That explains why Beholding wanted Jon to leave the cabin! And why Jon had felt that rush of violence towards Elias: it was pushing Jon to discard Elias and take his place! And that also explains why Jon felt the pull so strongly in the Panopticon – Beholding was eager.

(MAG191) MARTIN: The Eye isn’t, like… calling you, or something? ARCHIVIST: Oh, no i–it is. But I can’t get a… clear reading on it down here, i–it’s kind of maddening, actually? Like… being on a street you almost remember but… can’t find on a map.

(MAG192) MARTIN: Not keeping you, am I? ARCHIVIST: S–, No, I–, it’s just… I, uh… MARTIN: What, you’re not tired? ARCHIVIST: Oh no, believe me, I am! It’s just, uh… It’s kind of… difficult not to keep climbing? MARTIN: What, like… you’re being called? ARCHIVIST: More like… pulled. Gently, but very definitely upwards, towards the top. MARTIN: That… could be a bad sign. ARCHIVIST: Probably…! Too late to bail now, though.

(MAG193) JONAH/ELIAS: Enough. Tell me: why are you here? ARCHIVIST: “I… I don’t know.” JONAH/ELIAS: Were you drawn here? ARCHIVIST: “… Yes. I was.” JONAH/ELIAS: Against your will? ARCHIVIST: “No.” JONAH/ELIAS: Then why did you heed the call? ARCHIVIST: “Because… this is the place I know I should be.”

We got a glimpse of what Beholding was trying to push for, there is still the question of the reasons behind it. Without ascribing it a sentience, why would Beholding prefer Jon as its conduit? Is it because Jon’s dreams ended with Jon being part of it, and that it feels like a natural evolution, that Beholding is seeking the completion it used to get with Jon’s dreams?

(MAG120) ELIAS: “At last, he looks into The Eye that sees all, and knows all, and clutches at the secret terrors of your heart. The Ceaseless Watcher of all that is, and all that was; the voracious, infinite hunger that tears at his soul, invoking him to discover, to observe, to experience all and everything and forever. It stares into him, and it stares out of him, and he is falling into the devouring eternity of its pupil. He wants to cry out in horror – but he cannot. He. is. whole.”

Is it because unlike Jonah, Jon has been reading statements and feeding Beholding? Is it because of Jon’s nature as an Archivist? Would any of the other Archivists down there be fitting for the position, then? Is it because of Jon’s ability to fear? Is it because Jon, although controlled by Jonah’s script, was the one to “open the door”?

- Relatedly, reminder that we still don’t know what and where Jon’s domain is. Is it friggin’ Beholding itself.

- I’m worried about Martin, I’m really worried about Martin since now, Jon has explained that it was possible to take Jonah’s place as Beholding’s pupil… and Martin had once been set up to replace Jonah in his seat of power…

(MAG158) MARTIN: But, I don’t understand, why are we here? PETER: It’s quite simple, really…! I want to use the powers of this place to learn about The Extinction: what it’s doing, where it’s manifesting. Then we can stop it. 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. MARTIN: I suppose I am. PETER: There is… of course… just one other complication? [FOOTSTEPS STOP] You’ll have to dispose of the current occupant.

What would happen if someone strongly powered by another power were to become The Eye’s pupil? Would it affect Beholding as a whole?

- Since MAG192 and MAG193 followed each other without a gap between tape, I wonder whether that will be the case for MAG194 too. Will we go back to Jon and Martin at the Panopticon, in front of Jonah, with Martin reacting to what Jon just concluded (that Beholding might have called him there specifically to get him to take Jonah’s place)? Will we go back to them after a small interruption? Will they be back down in the tunnels to think about their options and share with the class (Melanie&Georgie)? Or would Beholding stop them from leaving the room? Will they be joined by Annabelle, or will Annabelle send a message their way? Basira was on her way to London, too – if she were to arrive, that might be an occasion to withdraw and regroup, if the building let them…

I’m going to do this every time, now, but: seven episodes to go. At this point in time in previous seasons, we had only just met Tim and heard about “Peter Lukas” for the first time, Basira had given Jon her statement about Maxwell Rayner’s death (with Jon pondering who had tipped off Section 31 to allow them to find him – that was later revealed to have been Elias himself), Martin had been very tempted to touch the plastic explosive and Jon had read a letter sent by Adelard Dekker for the first time, Julia&Trevor had trailed after Jon after having discovered that he had taken Gerry’s page from “their” book, threatening him (and introducing their future raid on the Institute), and Jon had discovered that Daisy was slowly dying from Hunt deprivation but was still keen to not give in. There is still so much that could happen…?

MAG194’s title has me a bit at a loss: it’s easy to picture a few configurations for the first level meaning (Jon and Martin? Jonah and Beholding? Jon&Martin and Melanie&Georgie?), but I’m really at a loss when trying to picture a second meaning…? Unless it’s about a recurring item such as Jon’s lighter or Salesa’s camera? Or about someone (Annabelle?) revealing things…?

[qqueenofhades]

garciaflynnanimal replied to your post “hacash: obviously during these trying times we’re all secretly...”

@qqueenofhades So I’m Philip Capet. No clue who that is. Goddammit Jim, I’m a scientist, not an historian! But I sound cool. I had sex with Richard and caused a lot of drama. Good for me.

LMAOOOOO.

This is Philip II of France (r. 1180-1223), often known as “Philip Augustus” (originally since he was born in August, but by the end of his reign, it was likewise viewed as an imperial honorific). He was the son of Louis VII (Eleanor of Aquitaine’s first husband) and his third wife, Adele of Champagne. He was born in 1165 and became king on Louis’s death in 1180, at the age of 15.

Louis himself was notoriously meek, inefficient, prone to military disasters, being bullied and outwitted by those trash Plantagenets (not least since Henry II swooped in and married Eleanor six weeks after her divorce from Louis, proceeded to have a whole passel of sons with her, made the Capets’ life hell at repeated opportunities, bossed Louis around with impunity despite technically being his vassal, etc) and personally pious, and therefore not very good at the whole king thing. Philip changed all that very quickly. He became a formidable player in his own right at an early age, no easy thing to do against the Plantagenets, and made it clear that the kingdom of France could not be trampled on as easily as it often had been before. He quickly allied with each of Henry II’s discontented sons: Henry the Young King and Geoffrey of Brittany at first (he was genuinely good friends with Geoffrey and allegedly had to be stopped from throwing himself into his grave in grief after Geoffrey was killed in a tournament accident in 1186). Philip was shrewd enough to understand that exploiting the long-running tensions in the Plantagenet royal family was a winning political strategy, since Henry had been fighting for decades with his sons (and with Eleanor, who he locked up in 1173; she wasn’t released until Richard became king in 1189). Super great strategy, right? No downsides?

....well, then Richard, duke of Aquitaine and count of Poitou, turned up in all his glittering red-headed glory in Paris in early 1187, looking for the same political advantages that Philip had bestowed upon his brothers, and everything went Tits Up for, well, the next twelve years solid.

Basically (as I write about in my Queer Richard paper) Philip and Richard fell passionately in love, had a brief and torrid affair, caused all kinds of political hell-raising for the beleaguered Henry II, and then after Richard became king in July 1189, everything went Straight To Hell. They remained completely obsessed with each other for the rest of their respective reigns; they went on crusade together while Richard was still supposed to marry Philip’s half-sister Alys (he married Berengaria of Navarre instead, claiming that Alys had been his father Henry II’s mistress, because really, incestuous does no justice to this whole affair). Philip left shamefully early (in July 1191) while Richard remained on crusade, went back to Europe, and immediately allied with the fourth Plantagenet brother, the future King John, because why mess with success? The two of them caused various mischief in England (Eleanor was tasked with keeping them in check) while Richard was gone. When Richard was captured by the Holy Roman Emperor, Henry VI, on his return from crusade, Philip and John vigorously lobbied (ultimately unsuccessfully) to keep him locked up indefinitely. Philip was rumored to have informed John of Richard’s ultimate release with a letter reading, “Look to yourself, the devil is loose.”

After Richard returned to Europe in 1194, he and Philip spent the next five years fighting each other constantly, broken with a series of temporary peace treaties and truces, and finding personal ways to humiliate each other (or frankly, Richard personally humiliating Philip) whenever they possibly could. Richard began building his mighty castle, Chateau Gaillaird, at Les Andelys in Normandy; the sentiment of this translates roughly to “In-your-face Castle.” Philip had repeated bad luck with bridges breaking underneath him during hasty retreats and almost died at least once, much to Richard’s delight. By the year 1198, Richard had won back almost everything that Philip had originally taken and was at the apogee of his power and control; Philip was comprehensively defeated. But then in March/April 1199, Richard was unexpectedly injured and died a week later at a siege of an inconsequent castle in the Limousin, and that changed everything.

Philip’s ex-ally John now became king of England, and they became enemies just like the others. In 1204, Philip famously won Normandy back to the French crown for the first time since it had been given away to Rollo the Viking (founder of the Norman ducal house) in 911. This was a huge accomplishment for a French king (Eleanor also died that year at the ripe old age of 82, leaving John on his flailing lonesome) and helped cement his reputation. The conquest was made permanent at the battle of Bouvines in 1214, as Philip also collected almost all of the existing English possessions in France. (This was a major part of the reason John had to accept Magna Carta forced on him in 1215, and the barons were willing to accept the invasion of Prince Louis, Philip’s eldest son, in an attempt to take the English throne; they hated John That Much.) By the time of Philip’s death in 1223, everything except Gascony, which remained attached to the English kings, had been returned to direct French royal control, and the French monarchy itself had been greatly expanded in power and prestige. So basically, he ended up getting the last laugh, but if Richard hadn’t died so early, who knows what might have happened.

Personally, Philip was cynical, shrewd, very much a fan of realpolitik, and had a penchant for discarding wives on flimsy pretexts. He is said to have made a law as a teenager trying to outlaw the French court from swearing (this did not go well, and Richard was a notoriously colorful and profane curser, so who knows how THAT went). He disliked horses and was not excessively fond of warfare in general, but got quite good at it, and certainly much better than his father Louis. He married three times: Isabelle of Hainaut in 1180, niece of the Flemish count, who he then tried to divorce in 1185 (she died in childbirth in 1190). He then most famously married Ingeborg of Denmark, sister of the Danish king, in 1193, but for inexplicable reasons, publicly repudiated her the next morning and refused to acknowledge her as his wife. This caused him literal decades of arguing with the Pope, who excommmunicated him repeatedly over the whole affair, but Philip stubbornly refused to take her back until 1213 (after his third wife, Agnes of Merania, who he illegally married in 1196 and who died in 1202 after he was forced to set her aside by papal pressure, was long gone). Even then, he probably never lived with her as his wife, and nobody ever figured out what in tarnation Philip had against her in the first place.

Anyway: yes, he was a Noted Nemesis of the Plantagenets, but also loved them (aside from his deep friendship with Geoffrey and torrid affair with Richard, he tried a few times to marry Joanna of Sicily, Richard’s sister and Henry and Eleanor’s youngest daughter, though this would have been an opportune way of forcing peace with Richard), and ended up with the last laugh, since he outlived every single one of them and made France into pretty much the strongest secular power in medieval Western Europe. So, not bad.

[wygolvillage]

been thinking about how i would make a remake/reimagining of simons quest. long post ahead. might be a little stupid since im no game designer or writer or anything lol

random gameplay stuff

it would be metroidvania style, but not all in the castle. imagine it like ooe but the map is interconnected.

i would keep the day/night cycle but it would be less obnoxious of course... probably there would be a little clock on the HUD showing what time it is and how close you are to nightfall. villagers would go inside during the night, but you can still enter churches. churches are your most reliable healing method since save rooms would be pretty sparse in the rest of the world map, and saving at the churches also allows you to skip straight to morning or nightfall if you so desire. being stuck in the middle of the woods during night can be disastrous if the player is ill-prepared since monsters grow stronger then.

there would still be puzzles to figure out and complete, and it would still be a bit cryptic (not to the degree of the original of course), but there is a supporting character i would put in who you can ask for hints at any time, and hers are a lot more straightforward (more on her later). important items are gained through quests rather than bought with hearts, but drop rates would be VERY forgiving since it’s required. like, a villager promises to give you the red crystal if you can get him some fish meat from a merman, which would have about a 40% drop rate... i kind of wanted to preserve the sense of fighting monsters to forage for materials the original has without making the game a total grindfest :P

additionally, materials dropped from monsters can be used to craft food items after simon teams up with the aforementioned supporting character. like i said before, save rooms wouldn’t be super common so it would be implemented as a way to heal yourself when you’re away from town.

the bosses would be decently difficult to compensate with there being very few of them- a true challenge, but they can be beaten with both playable characters if the player is skilled enough

the plot would be expanded upon as well so lemme give a little summary

it begins in simons house where he wakes up having trouble breathing. he’s been struggling with some physical illness ever since battling dracula years prior, especially a nasty bite on his arm he sustained during the fight, and that arm has been turning a pretty nasty shade of grey, like its wasting away. he goes outside to a graveyard near a local church to try and get some fresh air, but it is largely unhelpful. suddenly, he spots an old woman standing at one of the graves. he looks over at him and says mysteriously “ah... must be a horrible night for a curse.” simon is like “what do you mean?!” the old woman tells him to “resurrect him and destroy what remains, or nothing will remain of you”. she then disappears into thin air, implying she’s a ghost or something equally spooky. simon is like “destroy what remains... dracula’s remains?!”

the game starts properly in the graveyard and surrounding forest as simon heads in a fairly straight path towards the town of jova, where he meets a woman a few years younger than him named agnes. agnes’ parents were killed by dracula’s forces when he was resurrected back then, and she admires simon greatly for defeating the dark lord (shes also implied to be a descendant of grant danasty!). she decides to accompany him on his quest after hearing about his curse. he asks the head priest of the town if he knows about dracula’s remains, and the priest tells him that he heard of some of dracula’s followers placing some of dracula’s body parts in their strongholds to worship, and points him to the direction of the first stronghold and hands him a stake. he also warns them that bringing all of his remains together can resurrect the dark lord and it holds a remarkable corrupting power.

simon and agnes then become a character swapping duo (just like portrait of ruin hehehe). agnes is low on defense but can deal plenty of damage at a close range, and her signature weapon is the golden knife. she’s fast as well, whereas simon is more of a slow, defensive character who is best at keeping distance between himself and the enemy. agnes is smart, but impulsive and stubborn, and doesn’t like being told that she’s wrong. simon is a stoic but kind individual who tends to keep to himself. their personalities occasionally cause conflict between them during the adventure, but they eventually grow to become really good friends.

eventually they reach berkeley mansion, the first of the strongholds, and its aesthetic is very much “dark evil church”. there are the usual skeletons and bats and stuff, but some of the dracula followers are regular enemies as well. the first boss is a human who has dedicated his life to following dracula (specifically to contrast against the priest dude who gave simon the stake and directions) who uses magic attacks and stuff. beating him earns simon dracula’s rib, which functions suprisingly well as a shield (which becomes important later).

the adventure continues on like this, going from town to mansion to town, with simons curse becoming more and more hindering to him (from a story perspective not a gameplay one. simon wont become worse to play as because that would be lame as hell). they go to the other mansions, with the bosses being carmilla (guarding the nail of vlad, in a mansion thats very much a vampires lair), olrox (guarding the eyeball, in a massive dining hall themed mansion) death (guarding vlads ring in a Spooky Clockwork Skeleton Mansion with slogras and gaibons and all the usual death stuff), and in the final mansion... there is no boss. just as simon is about to grab the heart, agnes stops him.

Agnes: You told me you were going to destroy the remains, weren’t you?

Simon: Of... Of course, Agnes. Why do you ask?

Agnes: Why haven’t you?

Simon: ...

Agnes: We have almost all of them. You remember what the priest said, right? That bringing them together can resurrect Dracula.

Simon: Well... I haven’t exactly been truthful, Agnes. The old woman who sent me on this quest didn’t tell me just to destroy his remains...

Agnes: So you’ve been intending to resurrect the Dark Lord this whole time? For your own selfish gain?

Simon: This curse will kill me if I don’t.

Agnes: ...So it’s true, then. You’re willing to risk the lives of thousands just to save your own skin. Lives like my parents’... Lives like mine.

Simon: I...

Agnes: There’s no need to explain yourself, oh great hero, Simon Belmont. (Scoffs) If you care more for yourself than anyone else, strike me down now!

surprise! simon has to fight against his best friend! tbh i would be pissed at him too lmao. and it’s a tough fight, as agnes can deal a ton of damage and is hard to dodge. killing her like any other boss will give you the bad ending, where simon realizes she was right and lets himself succumb to the curse out of guilt for her death. the way to the good ending is to use dracula’s rib as a shield (i told you it would be important!) or dodge/survive her attacks until she tires out (the shield is the best method though), and realizes simon doesn’t want to hurt her. they have a touching emotional moment and simon assures her that he beat dracula before and can do it again, but he will need her help. agnes nods, and they head to the ruins of dracula’s old castle, which is totally empty. there’s no music, while the rest of the game has been filled with catchy tunes, here there’s only ambient noise.

they reach the throne room and place drac’s remains on a pedestal, where they begin to glow with dark energy. blood is dripping down the walls and stuff, and the count is returning to the mortal plane as thunder booms in the background. simon begins to doubt himself. if he loses now, the world will be plunged into darkness, and it will all be his fault. but... agnes has his back, despite everything. they fight dracula together, and though it’s tough with simon’s weakened body, they eventually prevail, as simon drives the stake into his heart, the curse finally lifted.

the game ends with agnes and simon returning to jova. agnes admits that she’s still upset with simon for lying to her, but she would be even more upset if he died slowly because of her. simon sighs, stating that there was no easy solution to the situation they were in, and asks for forgiveness for breaking her trust and risking so much for his own desires. agnes says maybe one day she will forgive him completely, and she still considers him a friend, but she needs some time to herself. simon nods, and they go their separate ways.

SO YEAH idk if this is even good but i hope u at least enjoyed reading it. maybe ill make designs for this version of simon, and for agnes too ofc :D

...yeah, not exactly the happiest ending, but i always found it kind of weird that simon was so willing to resurrect the count to save himself from the curse, so that’s the main conflict i decided to add to the story. its not the sort of conflict that can be easily resolved. theres no easy answer... agnes was right about simon risking other peoples lives being wrong, but she was also wrong to insist that he just give up and let the curse kill him instead. its Complicated idk... Castlevania II: Simon’s Trolley Problem

edit: actually i decided there would be two "true endings" after using the shield in the agnes fight. the one i described, and a second one where they decide against resurrecting dracula and simon lives out the short rest of his days with agnes until he dies of the curse. both endings are considered equally canon and valid

[number5theboy]

ALRIGHT

THIS SEASON

IT WAS A LOT

my liveblogged thoughts under the cut

Episode 1

·         Exhilarating! I love Ben

·         Ben already has more lines in these first five minutes than he had in the first season

·         This montage is good

·         ALLISON BABY

·         Luther yelled for Diego first I love this

·         Diego is immediately in vigilante mode…….hot

·         THE SHOT PARELLING VANYA’S FIRST WORDS

·         Vanya is a mess we love to see it

·         The shot of Five’s feet hitting the puddle? So aesthetically pleasing

·         The battle scene is such a smart way of reintroducing everyone’s powers and their Final Form™ succinctly

·         I love Hazel. So much.

·         The Umbrella Atomic Explosion™ is SO clever I love it

·         ALRIGHT UNCHARTERED TERRITORY LET’S GOOOOOOOOOOO

·         Oh Hazel and Five make me soft

·         Agnes and Hazel had a good life

·         Hazel is so dead

·         Welp that took no time at all

·         “How many times did I say bulletproof briefcases?” ily mister five

·         I love the Swedes they’re stupid

·         Are we ever gonna know what Agnes made Hazel promise?

·         Five is honestly world’s best character

·         FUTURE HEADQUARTERS

·         “Well the truth is out there!” abkdkblhlkbkhl

·         I shouldn’t make quick judgments, but conspiracy nut guy is nice and I hope he doesn’t turn out evil, because I also through Harold was nice in the beginning

·         Diego got himself arrested already what an idiot

·         Asddjgflkflhfl Diego’s problems all put out

·         Okay, set-up for Diego’s character arc of self-actualisation we love to see it

·         Lila is awesome, but I hope they don’t make her crush on him excessively

·         Diego and Five is an underrated duo

·         THEY ARE SO BICKERY

·         Five is jut gonna murder him sometime along the way

·         I LOVE FIVE SO MUCH WHAT A LITTLE SHIT

·         Oof Vanya is so cute in that outfit

·         This scene perfectly encapsulates women having to listen to men

·         VANYA’S GOING TO MILFTOWN Y’ALL

·         I cannot tell white men apart, does Carl look like conspiracy nut guy or is it just me?

·         As usual, Ben and Klaus are bad at everything

·         “neither does your beard” icon Ben Hargreeves

·         I support Ben pummelling Klaus

·         I passionately hate the beard and love the coat

·         Why do all the white men look alike, I thought this poker dude was a Swede

·         I KNEW BEN WAS LYING

·         “Pick a better time to self-actualise!”

·         I still hate the beard, let’s see if it grows on me

·         Yusuf Gatewood………….hot

·         By far the hottest couple so far in TUA

·         Please tell me she’s not still hung up on Luther

·         Yes she is goddammit

·         The moon thing is cute though, I can appreciate that

·         Luther finally gets a well-soundtracked fight scene I love it

·         OI THAT WAS BRUTAL HOLY SHIT

·         Oh Luther is pulling a Five in feeling bad about his excessive violence

·         I already hate his boss

·         Raymond marry me pls

·         Allison marry me pls

·         OH MY GOD VANYA LAUGHED

·         Sissy and Vanya have excellent chemistry

·         Oh I see the deliberate parallel with Vanya, Umbrella Academy, you aren’t fooling me

·         SWEDISH ASSASSINS BABY

·         Do you think they’ll say a single word or?

·         Literally the only way this show knows how to signal danger is through flickering lights

·         Two bopping fight scene and Five hasn’t been in any of them

·         Lila and Diego have no braincells between them it’s beautiful

·         Alright, she knows how to fight……..supicious

·         If this show wasn’t so hellbent on making Luther and Allison a thing, he would be best ace rep

·         Lmao “I don’t give a shit” I love you Luther

 EPISODE TWO

·         ALRIGHT THE HANDLER IS BACK???????

·         Okay so Hazel and Cha-Cha are dead but that pestilence still runs around??? Bruuuuuuuuuh

·         Kate Walsh is still hot though

·         AJ??????

·         THE FISH SMOKES?!?

·         God the Commission is such a capitalist hellhole

·         Oh there we have 743

·         H E R B

·         Okay I am here to see her humiliated but please no redemption arc for her

·         I love the deliberate parallels between Five and the Handler

·         “Like a masseuse?” IDIOTS

·         Oh Five is so lost and vulnerable baby boy

·         Also the character developments in Luther!!!!!

·         “Dad should’ve left him on the moon.” Five is, simply said, an icon

·         Oof Sissy is SO cute

·         I’m already not ready for Five to find Vanya

·         Lila is so extra can we keep her

·         Great now I have sympathy for Carl

·         Luther’s new outfit looks so good on him

·         OH LUTHER IS THE FIRST ONE TO SEE HER

·         Well that was dramatic and didn’t lead anywhere

·         Alright two episodes in, Civil Rights plotline hasn’t been fucked up yet

·         WHAT THE FUCK IS THE SWEDE DRINKING SO CONSCPICOUSLY

·         ELLIOTT IS THE NAME OF MISTER CONSPIRACY

·         “cousins on my robot mother’s side”

·         “Imagine Batman, then aim lower.”

·         Lila is great I love her

·         Diego is gonna throw both Five and Lila through a wall at some point

·         Five is so ready to throw Diego under the bus

·         Klaus Hargreeves, world’s worst cult leader

·         ……….did Klaus built a cult on pop lyrics?

·         Klaus and Raymond bonding I love it

·         DIEGO AND FIVE BEST TEAM

·         REGINALD IS THE UMBRELLA MAN

·         OH LUTHER IS GONNA FIND HER HOLY SHIT

·         THE BARN FROM THE PROMO PICTURE

·         This scene is so good

·         “You shouldn’t be the one to apologise.” I’M GONNA CRY

·         Tom Hopper and Ellen Page are so good in this scene

·         WHY DID HE LEAVE

·         What the flying fuck is up with the Swedes

·         BRO WHAT THE FUCK

·         Is Five ever gonna bring up the fact that he was supposed to kill Kennedy or?

·         Raymond is wasted on someone who doesn’t give him her whole heart

·         What the FUCK, Klaus

·         Why does she remember her name tho

·         The violin starting up when she talks about the callouses on Vanya’s hands

·         Brotherly bonding is my new favourite scene

·         Do the filmmakers know that your scene can be suspenseful and well-lit

·         Okay maybe baby Pogo is cute

·         There is gonna be no Five murdering spree, the blood is solely from Pogo

·         Next well-soundtracked fight scene

·         The choreography of this!!!!!

·         Man Reginald is a shitty dad before he even becomes a dad

·         Diego cannot catch a break poor baby

 EPISODE 3

·         SHITTY WIG ON KLAUS ALERT

·         THE LEVITATION IS BEN I HATE THIS

·         So far, all title card umbrellas have not disappointed

·         You are running in a straight line you really should hit her

·         Yep, Watchmen flashbacks

·         Luther remains cute and awkward

·         THEY ARE TALKING TO EACH OTHER BABY

·         S E Q U I N S

·         SNEAKY LADY ALLISON IS BACK

·         FINALLY

·         A HUG  

·         Allison and Klaus are so cute

·         What in the goddamn Looney Tunes is this outfit lady

·         WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU LADY

·         ALLISON HARGREEVES YOU QUEEN

·         This spooky ghost show is great

·         Everyone going off on Five is great

·         @ this show stop ripping Vanya and Five apart and let them be soft

·         Diego is so naked this entire season

·         Diego and Lila are a good dynamic

·         Elliott is a babe I love him

·         The Handler continues to be creepy about Five

·         So much driving

·         Luther is baby and Raymond deserves better than to deal with all the baggage from all the Hargreeves brothers

·         HE SHAVED THE BEARD

·         Ouch this is awkward

·         I don’t get why they didn’t cast normal Dave to play young Dave they’re not that far apart in age

·         Oh he’s gonna have to let Dave go

·         Oh this scene must be so triggering

·         Oh shit’s bad and it’s only episode 3

·         PUPPY???

·         WE WERE RIGHT ABOUT LILA

·         WHAT DO YOU MEAN THANKS MOM

 EPISODE 4

·         Oh my god the Handler is pure fucking evil

·         She learnt the fighting from her mom alright

·         THE RED BOOTS WERE THERE ALL ALONG

·         Man I hoped that the antisemitism was gone

·         Vanya being protective of Luther :’)

·         Luther only has shitty father figures

·         I can’t believe they were better organised last season

·         Why do you hate the Vanya/Five dynamic so much, show?

·         Five got an extra dose of asshole today this season huh

·         Reggie is probably the twelfth

·         Oh boy Klaus is a trainwreck

·         That marriage is also a trainwreck

·         I understand Ray though

·         Why is there Styx on this soundtrack

·         Oh Klaus baby

·         GALA NIGHT BITCHES

·         Five is a smart young old man

·         Oh baby is eating his heart out

·         Oh the hug makes me soft though

·         Honestly, Tom Hopper and Emmy Raver Lampman have such cute chemistry

·         AWKWARD DARLING MAN

·         “Doomsday” *nervous chuckle*

·         Ballroom lessons as kids

·         This is an excellent dance scene

·         OH MY GOD MOM WAS MADE AFTER A REAL WOMAN

·         THIS SHOW MAN THIS SHOW

·         Reggie is gross

·         Diego’s mommy AND daddy issues are put on blast this season

·         Sissy is such a babe

·         Man we got budget BUDGET for this season

·         Alright, the white violin can revive people now cool cool cool

·         How different her powers are when powered by love

·         I love Elliott I hope he survives the eason

·         I am down for Luther and Elliott getting high together

·         LET’S GO LESBIIIAAAAAAAAAANS

·         God Allison and Klaus make me so soft

·         I am very supportive of Elliott and Luther becoming bros

·         You already shanked one son, go poker stick another one

·         YES EXCELLENT FIGHT MUSIC

·         They both?????? Just left him to fend for himself??????????

·         Ancient Greek??? Bitch what

·         This show is rated for violence and we have barely seen any!!!!!! What!!!!!!!

 Episode 5

·         Okay baby Pogo and Grace is adorable

·         Why is Pogo in space now

·         THEY KILLED POGO

·         AGAIN

·         Hargeeves got a hug before Five did what the effing fuck

·         He might be a dick but his instincts are good

·         Haha old cowboy

·         Ben is so done

·         Vanya……..Sissy……..my heart

·         Wow Reginald continues to be a massive arse

·         Luther/Diego/Five are DUMB and I love them

·         “No, bro, he shanked your heart.”

·         God the Handler!!!!!!

·         THE MUSIC AT THE REUNION

·         We didn’t even see Five reunite with Allison and Klaus!!!!!

·         GOD WHAT A SISTERLY UPGRADE

·         KLAUS VANYA AND ALLISON HUGGING

·         Allison and Diego rights babey!!!

·         Are the Swedes ever gonna say something or

·         LILA AND FIVE TEAM-UP LET’S GO

·         I’VE MISSED YOU ALL SO MUCH I’M GONNA CRY BABY

·         The red-blue dynamic in Luther and Diego I live for that

·         Luther and Diego are gooooooood together

·         What is up with that

·         Klaus, Vanya and Allison are dumbasses and I love them so much

·         Alright where are the Swedes doing and why is that tree so creepy

·         Oh the youngest Swede just went tits-up

·         Please tell me Five is finally getting a fight scene

·         Excellent fight scene

·         Great, now I feel sad for the Swedes

·         They deffo have a cooler aesthetic than Hazel and Cha-Cha

·         This cover is beautiful

 EPISODE 6

·         This wig looks better than Klaus’

·         Also Ben has barely been in this season where is he at

·         Oof Ray is so cute

·         The Handler and Five have such good chemistry holy shit

·         Diego, Luther and Vanya are a god-tier dynamic

·         We love the CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT

·         BENNY BOY HAS A CRUSH

·         Wait how is this only episode six I feel like this is already the pensum of the first season

·         Clothing montage baby!!!!!

·         God they look so good together

·         Oh Allison can be RUTHLESS

·         THE BINGO CARDS

·         Oh no no no no I didn’t think Klaus and Dave could be even more tragic

·    ��    THEY TALK

·         God she is so fucking creepy stop lusting after a child

·         World’s most satisfying elevator shot

·         This scene is chaos I love it

·         God everyone just harps on Diego’s daddy issues jesus

·         Oh baby no

·         Oh babies no

·         NO NOT THE DISSOLUTION OF TEAM ZERO

·         Why are there so many antisemitic dogwhistles in this

·         This scene between Five and Reginald is good

·         NOT ELLIOTT

·         Oh no no no no Carl

·         Alright at least this promises a good fight scene

 EPISODE 7

·         This polka music bops

·         Wait how did he get to 1982

·         HE SAID FUCK

·         Man Carmichael was out so quick

·         No fish-eating?

·         Awwwww Klaus and Ben have a heart to heart

·         Oh God, Diego and Luther have no brain activity between the two of them

·         That is a Look

·         Oh this montage of Ben rediscovering touch

·         The writing of this show was oddly prophetic

·         Oh wait Vanya’s gonna be incarcerated too right????

·         Oh this is heart-breaking

·         Really?????? Ben’s the dorky one???

·         Oh my god Ben is getting a hug and Diego is so soft

·         Man why are Five and Vanya so antagonistic

·         FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT

·         Dude a fight between them would have been so epic

·         Diego

·         You idiot

·         Oh Allison really loves him and he loves her

·         Oh I am so sad

·         Yeah this episode is infinitely worse than the day that wasn’t

·         FUCK YEAH BACKSTREET BOYS

·         What the fuck

·         Yo that is sadistic as fuck Allison what the flying fuck

·         This scene might ruin the song for me

·         There definitely was an easier way out

·         They fucked it up

·         I am not surprised

 EPISODE 8

·         Oh she speaks Russian

·         Five just snapped and honestly deserves it

·         Yeah I feel for the Swede

·         What is it with commission assassins and axes this season

·         “Your vagina needs fresh glasses.”

·         Nepotism

·         Oh Grace is turning on him baby!!

·         Ha remember when we were all like ‘oh no they’re making Reggie sympathetic’

·         Yeah so much for that

·         Five and Luther are……..soft

·         What the fuck is up with that

·         AYYYY BUTTHOLE SURFERS ON THE SOUNDTRACK

·         Oooooohhhhhhh trippy kid scene

·         Also Reggie is bad at German

·         I love Luther and Five so much

·         We finally get to see older Five’s tie pattern

·         Alright Lila makes me uncomfortable

·         FIVE IS GONNA GO FERAL Y’ALL LET’S GO

·         Man after the last rampage you’d think they’d upped security in this place

·         Herb for president!!

·         Some catch Diego’s ego is going berserk

·         Oh not again

·         Dot is a rebel now

·         Everyone is ragging on Five, even Five

·         This is so trippy

·         Oh yeah the brains. Forgot about those.

·         I……….sad

·         Oh my god oh my god oh my god

·         Of course it’s all the government’s fault

·         Love how they just walked into an FBI building

·         Bro what the fuck is going on

EPISODE 9

·         Allison is always there for Vanya and I love her

·         Hello Klaus and Diego are so cute

·         Oh my heart you go Klaus

·         So much for that

·         BUT BEN

·         YOU ARE CLIFF-HANGERING BE INSIDE AN EPISODE

·         Crazy Five is an idiot I love him

·         “I’m the daddy here” is not the gazelle, but it’ll do in a pinch

·         The 743!!!!!!

·         Oh God, Harlan is in danger

·         She loves him?!? You barely know the man!!!!!!

·         WHAT’S ON THE PAPER

·         Oh it’s her file

·         HELLO LET US SEE THE FIVES TYING TO OFF EACH OTHER

·         This continues to be trippy

·         These visuals are so stunning

·         This is my favourite scene so far, this is so good, this is an excellent talk

·         NO

·         NOT BEN

·         NOT BEN

·         “I’m askin’, Carl.” You go Sissy, love you, you’re doing excellent

·         Alright, we have a mini-Vanya here

·         Oh I hate the Handler so fucking much she is the worst

·         What a plot-twist

·         Oh god so much is going on in this season

·         Oh we get fish-eating, but it’s not Five? That’s lame

·         Why are they all so hell-bent on making stupid decisions

·         Klaus you idiot

·         Oh that SON OF A BITCH HARGREEVES

·         What the fuck what is on the dark side of the moon

·         What the flying fuck what the fuck what tebdjbdgkbjdsgkbjgsdjgnj

·         WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU’RE GOING TO WAR

 EPISODE 10

·         Oh the kids are back for Ben’s funeral

·         I hate this

·         Reginald is just. The worst.

·         My emotions are all over the place

·         Oh……..babies

·         OH MY GOD DIEGO

·         AND FIVE

·         It wouldn’t hurt to go to an abandoned farm

·         God this is a family of shitty choices

·         I don’t want Ben to be gone

·         FAMILY TIME

·         Oh shit I totally forgot about the last Swede

·         BRO THE STAKES

·         YEAH THIS LOOKS BAD

·         ALRIGHT Harland is gonna be alright

·         All these assassins have shit aim

·         HE’S MATRIXING

·         LILA’S ONE OF THE 43

·         SHE CAN ABSORB AND REDIRECT THEIR ENERGIES

·         ONE OF THEM ONE OF THEM ONE OF THEM

·         Awwwwww they love each other

·         Oh great THEY’RE DEAD AGAIN

·         Oh now LILA will have to fix the timeline

·         Wait now they’re all dead

·         The swede to the rescue?

·         Please tell me she’s dead for good this time

·         We love a de facto protagonist saving everyone’s asses once more

·         GO VANYA SAVE THE BABY

·         Dot and Herb are precious dumbasses

·         This is heart-breaking, but I understand Sissy so much

·         WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS CLIFFHANGER

[mor-beck-more-problems]

Monster House || Morgan, Cassie, & Blanche

Three gals, one creepy old house, and TOO MANY ghosts.

Contains: ghostly body horror 

@harlowhaunted @deathsdoorman

Morgan brought her car up to the curb in front of the Bachman house. She had gone up the drive many times before, but under the cover of eternal night, it seemed more foreboding, more dangerous, and Morgan had a flash of fear that the earth might swallow her car if she left it alone, an offering to be devoured. It was probably her fear talking, the night pressing on longer than thirty minutes in front of her happy light could help. Or it could be the four-ish deaths she’d recently uncovered thanks to her sleuthing with Rio and Winston. Agnes’ father had been impaled on farming equipment, her sister strangled in clothesline, and one of her nieces drowned in a pail. Accidents, all of them. The exact cause of death for Agnes’ mother, Hannah, was unknown, because she was found so many days later, when a neighbor was alerted by the buzzing growth of decomposition. And that didn’t count the little disasters that had come before then. Something about the curse, which only knew how to take and torture, seemed to have embedded itself into the walls, and Morgan felt a twist of guilt at agreeing to bring Blanche along. Seeing this through with Cassie was one thing. Unavoidable, even if her refusal to let Morgan pay her back somehow made her neck itch with discomfort. But Blanche? She was a kid. A reckless, overworked kid in way over her head in so many ways. She didn’t need another. But here they were. Marching headlong into a completely literal danger zone. 

The Bachman house was the oldest of its kind on the street, steadfast against the press of time that peeled its fingers over the paint and shingles and bowed its fist on the front step. The earth, still in its winter sleep, seemed to have made an uneasy truce with the place, growing in brown prickly brambles around the perimeter, but stopping short of the place itself. The strange clarity of this border made the house seem ensconced in its own picturesque dome of grim. Morgan walked as far as the weeds and sat down, clutching her bag to her chest. She had Cassie’s special brew, a tin of Morton’s, the iron rod she’d been gifted by Deirdre, and a shiny new transmutation circle on a cuff around her wrist. It was more than she’d ever had coming here on her own, but knowing what she knew now, it didn’t seem like enough.

Pulling the car up across the street and leaning across to look out from the passenger side window Cassie sized up the building looming just ahead of her. Reaching behind her to the back-seat Cassie pulled through and slung her bag across her chest and stepped out of the car. One of these things is not like the others. Amongst its newer and less neglected siblings the house stuck out with its dilapidated yard and forlorn looking façade against the fresh coats of paint, well-manicured lawns and front porches of its neighbours. Never judge a book by its cover, but she felt it was safe to say that saying didn’t count under the circumstances. She didn’t even have to step inside to get an uneasy vibe from the place.

She raised her palm up in a small wave as she spotted Morgan where Morgan was sat, bag clenched to her chest. “There’s uh….a lot of character going on here,” she offered in tentative greeting as she approached and stopped just outside the threshold. “You sure about this?” She was sure she already knew the answer, but she had to ask all the same.  Okay, two out of three so far were here. The third party was the worry. Blanche was young, but determined, persistent even, but if every other interaction so far was to go on, she was going to do this kind of anyway. She may as well get the full experience with some backup. 

Regan was going to kill her. Remmy was going to kill her. Blanche was probably going to want to punch herself in the face after this. But it was fine. She pulled up in her yellow jeep, parking on the side of the road, already spotting where Morgan and Cassie were. She hopped out, grabbing her backpack that had… Well. She hadn’t known what to bring. She had a lot of salt, acid mace, regular mace, the chalk pens, and that book that Cassie told her to get with her. Just in case. She made Granny stay at home because she didn’t want Granny getting into a fistfight with a cranky ‘caught in between’ ghost. She still didn’t know what that meant. 

“Hey guys,” Blanche said, approaching the two. She looked at the house and grimaced. “Spooky house,” she said. The sort of house that had this been three months ago, she would have had to be dragged into kicking and screaming. It was like something broke in her - the denial and the living in secret wasn’t something she wanted to do anymore. It was exhausting. But, well, this didn’t seem to be very restful. Still, Morgan was nice, and she liked her, so she couldn’t just leave her alone. She shifted the backpack on her back, looking between the two. “So what’s the plan?” 

Morgan fixed her attention on Cassie and Blnache’s shoes. They were nice shoes, black and sensible, and ready for ass-kicking in a pretty on TV sort of way. Morgan wished she’d gotten the memo and put on something besides her busted sneakers, but that wasn’t why she was looking. It was just easier to see three pairs of shoes on a rickety stoop than two good, nice people with hope and salt in their bags, and her. She could turn them away, she thought. Sorry, game over, thanks but no thanks, I’ll just take my blind ass in there alone bye! But she needed this. She needed the universe to stop blowing holes in her like so much swiss cheese. She needed coming to White Crest to amount to something more than hurt and confusion. “Spooky Central!” She said brightly. “Come for the ambiance, stay for the impending doom.” She forced herself up to her feet, iron and salt at the ready. “Um, we stick together, because splitting up is for horror movies, and that’s not us. We don’t know who all might actually be in there, but both Agnes’ parents, her sister, and one niece all died in there back when. I don’t know if Agnes can turn up if she died in Texas, ghost travel isn’t my thing, but it is yours! Hopefully whoever Constance is shows up, and--” She held herself a little straighter. She was fine. This was fine. Plans were supposed to be simple and straightforward, right? “At the end of the day, we just need to get the dirt on why my family’s been cosmically screwed for at least four generations! The older they are, the more likely they’ll know.” 

The last of their party arrived hefting a backpack which looked like she was packing for doomsday, but she came prepared, she would give her that. Had Cassie really been that young when she started out? Too young for this. This was probably how everybody that had ever clued her in had felt now she was in their shoes. It was a weirdly jarring feeling. Cassie looked over at Morgan and flashed her a brief look of doubt. Yeah no, this is a bad idea, a thought she quickly shook off. Okay, so she had two people she had to watch out for. No big deal. It was just to talk anyway. No exorcisms needed necessarily. This was doable. “Yeah, no splitting up,” she agreed with a small shake of her head. “That never works out and if there’s anybody in there we’ll know soon enough. We’ll get them talking,” she shrugged. Getting them to do the opposite was usually the problem. Plus, if they split up, she just knew she would turn around at some point and Blanche would manage to find the broken floorboard or portal to a hell dimension. Call it a Sixth sense. “How about we take things room by room,” she offered up, looking back towards the house. “Go from there,” she finished as the dry grass reeds parted to her left as something skittered through.  

Impending doom was right. Blanche looked at the house, doubtfully. Maybe she should have brought Granny with her. Granny was always better at calming down ghosts - but those ghosts were usually, like, freshly dead. “I’m all for not splitting up,” Blanche said. “I know, surprising, but like - I do have some sense of self-preservation you know,” She shot them a grin, as goodhearted as she could make it. She was a little anxious, but as Morgan pointed the way to go, she was the one that strode right ahead, grimacing at whatever slithered through the grass. Nope. Nope. Nope. They were supposed to deal with the inside of the house, not whatever animal was in the grass. Gripping onto one of her backpack straps tightly, she tensed the second she pushed the door open. She definitely knew that feeling. She held the door open for the other two, walking a little deeper into the house, looking around the entryway curiously. “Room by room, yeah? This the best place to start for our friends?”

The Bachman house welcomed them with a damp sigh. As they crossed the threshold one by one, the doorframes edged away from their frames, making room for their new guests. The walls, flaking like fine old gentlemen, stood as straight as they had the day they rose. Stairs rose in neat lines, and pine and oak furniture, stubborn against the wear of time, glowered alongside their moth and maggot familiars.

“Hello, old house,” Morgan sang tentatively. In visits past, she had said so as a peace offering toward the presumed beings loitering around. Knowing what she knew now, however, of White Crest, of the many ways her ancestors had perished, it became a plea for mercy. Agnes, from what she had gathered, had liked to be the center of entertainment. Her sister, Martha, had been more of the ‘boss the servants around’ type. And their mother, Hannah, had been ill after a tragic, brutal fall before her eventual death, like Morgan’s own mother had been. Because of course she had. Because some torments were just so good they bore repeating. 

“Parlor first,” Morgan said, “Maybe they’ll be partying where the party’s at, right?” She stepped ahead of the others, iron rod raised in front of her. “Either of you see anything?” To Morgan’s ordinary eyes, the place was much as it had always been, except for a door in the corner that she didn’t remember being there before. Morgan went still. “Blanche--? Cassie?” She called.

“Emphasis on some'' Cassie half-joked at Blanche and followed after the two of them. “But good to hear,” Cassie was the last one to step across the threshold and closed the door over behind her just as that familiar pins and needles sensation spread. She could feel it spike as she stepped further inside the front room and trail down her arms and crept up to the tip of her neck. She did her best to shake it off and pressed on. Taking a cursory glance around she caught sight of a few weak fleeting figures that seemed like they were doing their best to keep out of her eyeline. Weird. Cassie looked away from the others for a second and took a few steps towards the door on her right to peek inside following after one of the figures, but thought better of it. “Okay, parlour sounds good,” she started, “let me try and get hold of few of these—" she moved to turn around and found herself facing a wall. The hell did that come from? Shaking off the confusion she looked around for any sign of Blanche or Morgan, but found herself alone in a now empty hallway. “Guys?” She called out again and let out a frustrated sigh and ventured through the first door she could find and stepped inside. A dark-haired figure flitted across the room, but she couldn’t quite make them out in the gloom, “Morgan?”

“Cassie? I don’t think these guys want to-” Blanche started, absentmindedly following after Morgan to the Parlor as a figure darted just out of her eyeline. Must be one skittish ghost. “Guys?” Blanche did not find Morgan, even though she just saw her go through the door. Instead, she found a moth-eaten dusty bed. Blanche stared at it, silently a moment, before turning around. “Cassie?” Nope. There was a window. Blanche stared at it for a long moment. Her entire body was on edge because they were all clearly note alone in the house, but now she was just tense. When the hell did she get to the second floor of the building? Blanche backed away from the the window, turning away as she patted her pockets for her cell phone, intending on calling Cassie straight away. No service. “Are you kidding me?” she hissed, before she heard something move. She looked up, and moved straight through the open doorway and into the Hallway - nope. Not the hallway. “.... Cassie! Morgan!” Blanche yelled at the top of her lungs. It was a big ass house, but someone had to hear her. Maybe, though, she realized after, with a grimace, she should be careful. There were others in the house after all.

They left me, Morgan thought. The plan didn’t mean anything and they left me. Was that the real plan, to disappear? Morgan stayed rooted in place, the rod trembling in her hands. The Bachman House breathed around her, raising dust around the old floorboards. Its cold breath pinched her, cruel and needling. The walls laughed, as the playground children had laughed, and the third dates she tried to tell about magic, her old cohort. And under them was a strange sound, a tisk of disapproval, or of keeping time. Tat, tat, tat, tat… Morgan wobbled on her feet and inched through the new door, clearly she wasn’t going to find anyone in here—and found herself on a stairwell, suffocated in dark. “No—” She dashed back the way she’d come and crashed into a wall. Trapped. “No, no, you do not get to do this. Cassie! Blanche!” She stumbled up blindly, each stair scraping on her ankles like so many teeth. She had to get to them—didn’t she?

The room was empty save for a debris-covered fireplace and some moth-eaten curtains. Cassie breathed a sigh of relief as she stepped inside and caught sight of Morgan’s sneakers in the dim light. Okay, now they just needed to find Blanche. She was crouched in the corner of the room with her back to the door. “Hey, you find something?” She asked taking a step closer, “thought we said we weren’t splitting up where’s—"she cut herself off and felt the pin prickles erupt along her arms again as she got closer and clocked the tattered denim jacket and dishevelled dark hair. No, not Morgan. Definitely not Morgan. A pair of terrified dark eyes flickered up at her. “Hey,” she ventured tentatively like she was approaching a startled animal, “you help me I’ll help you have you seen-”

The girl rose up suddenly, hands clinging to the wall and shrank away from her as though she were contagious, “stay away,” her voice cracking from disuse. “Get away from me!” She shrieked and streaked past her, making contact with her right arm sending the feeling of her skin being plunged into ice water and darted past her at speed through the wall. Taking their advice Cassie got out and called out again, “Blanche? Morgan?” She yelled. “The hell are you?” She asked quietly as she weighed up her options. “Stay where you are! I’ll come to you,” she tried, hoping one of them was close enough to hear that. For a split second she could have swore she heard someone call out and followed blindly in the direction it came from.

“Cassie! Morgan!” Blanche was bellowing Cassie and Morgan’s names over and over again. It was a big house, but it wasn’t that big. They had to find each other eventually. Flashes of people danced around the corners of her eyes, but everytime she turned to look, nothing was there. She did not like that. She didn’t like that one bit. She was hardly used to seeing ghosts when they were normal, she didn’t like them when they were screwing with her. And this whole maze of rooms thing? Not cool. Blanche was going through rooms as fast as humanly possible, none of them ever where she meant to go and none of them being right. It wasn’t until she ended up in a closet that she finally stopped and took a fucking breath. 

It was a large closet. Blanche turned on the flashlight on her phone, and immediately wished she hadn’t. Blanche screamed backing up against the wall as she stared at the human skeletons. Her stomach twisted, she for a moment, she was certain she was going to hurl. Except the jacket. The stupid fucking jacket. Blanche latched onto the first thing she saw that would ground her fear, and it was a jacket. Faded and moth eaten and dusty… It was hung around the shoulders of the bones, but that wasn’t what she was concerned with. DIE was on the breast pocket. She knew that fraternity on campus, but this was just a cruel joke. She was rooted to the spot now, staring at this stupid jacket around a dead person’s bones. Eerily, she was calm now - or numb. Her head sort of felt fuzzy, almost like she was in a dream. What a dream, what a nightmare. She went to leave… And then turned back around, unsure what possessed her to carefully take the jacket with her. Two people had died in this house alone and scared, someone had to miss them. And Adam could track down any DIE alumni and figure out who had gone missing. What their names were. Who were they? She wanted to know. Blanche’s stomach churned as she clutched the moth eaten jacket to her, before stumbling back into the hallway eyes burning with tears. Wait. Hallway. The hallway! No more room swapping hell! “Cassie! Morgan!” Blanche yelled again, turning a corner and catching sight of the stairs. She bolted to them immediately. “Hey! Can anyone hear me?!”

Morgan was sure she’d been walking the same stairs for hours now. She had stopped for breath, she had raced on almost all fours in desperation, and it was still just this. Just her and the dark, alone. 

Tat, tat, tat, tat….

Morgan tripped on the latest step and slammed onto her knees. “What the hell?” Her voice trembled hoarsely in her throat. 

“Come out already, pumpkin.”

It was a soft voice, steady and sure. Morgan couldn’t place the sound, but there was something in the cadence that chilled her with familiarity. What was happening? Why couldn’t she get out? Morgan staggered back up to her feet and began to climb again. Any second now, it had to be. She couldn’t be more than a few steps from the top. She continued, on and on, over and over. Had there been a landing she’d missed? A door just to her right or something. Of course there was. Only you could get lost on a fucking staircase. Morgan stopped, and fished out her flashlight for what--the third time? Or the first? Had she tried it before or dismissed the obvious idea because getting something right would just be too novel an experience?

The light came on. Morgan was staring in front of another door.

Earth and fucking stars, she had been in front of it the whole time. Morgan threw her weight against it and stumbled into a hallway. She looked behind her--there was no door. No enclosed stairs. She was coming up the main staircase that had watched them when they first entered. Someone was calling her name. Or was that in her head? Stupid, lonely-- no. Blanche was there, running towards her. 

“What the hell is wrong with you!” Morgan snapped. “What were you--” she couldn’t breathe. She was trembling from the shoulders down. Shit. How did she breathe again? She couldn’t forget how to breathe. It was in there somewhere, right? In. Hold. Out. Slowly, counting the time. One, two, three, three-- wait. Morgan looked up at Blanche from her haggard crouch in the middle of the hall. “You were supposed to be right behind me,” she said. “And what is that you’re holding?”

She could hear them yelling but every time she thought she was getting close it faded and died and she was left with silence. Cassie lost count of how many doors she went through that seemed to lead her on in what felt like an unending loop. “Here! I’m here!” She called back to no answer and sat down to catch her breath on one of the chairs left sprawled in the basement that sent out a thick plume of dust before she registered, she wasn’t alone down there. Several pairs of eyes turned to look at her and instantly rushed her. A chorus of frantic voices fought amongst themselves to be heard over the din and figures pushed and shoved to jostle for position in front of her. “One at a time,” she yelled. “One at a damn time,” to no avail. If her patience had been low before it was non-existent now. Reaching into her bag she opened up the salt container and launched it into the air sending anyone stupid enough to have stuck around to see it in her hands evaporated into the air. On the move again she tried to make contact again, but none of the occupants inside lingered long enough to be of any use or offer any help. They were all just kids, terrified kids too far gone to be of any use. Pressing on she wound her way through the house until she finally pushed against the one door that emptied her out into the hallway. Her eyes took a moment to adjust and clocked the two figures huddled close together and felt a flicker of relief at the sight of both Morgan and Blanche just ahead of her. She attempted to dust herself off on approach and caught her breath. “I’ve been looking everywhere,” she stopped to get a breath, “I’ve been looking everywhere for you guys,” she managed in relief and clocked the tattered fabric in Blanche’s hands. “You find something?”

“Morgan!! Morgan!” Blanche exclaimed in relief, before Morgan’s name caught in her throat as she lashed out at her. Blanche looked at her, eyes wide, shaking her head. “I was right behind you! I was right behind you! I got spit out in the bedroom! I don’t know what happened. And then I started running through the house and nothing was right and -” Blanche was shaking and talking way faster than she meant. She didn’t realize how terrified she had been until she looked down at the jacket and saw her knuckles white with how hard she was gripping the jacket. She took in a shaky breath, jumping as Cassie hurried up to them. She let out a sigh of relief, nodding. “There’s - I don’t know where, but - I mean, two people, two skeletons…” Blanche wasn’t great at explaining, but she shifted the jacket in her hands and showed the D.I.E. logo on it. “This is a frat at my school. I thought… if I talked to my friend, they could… figure out who they were,” Blanche said, suddenly feeling very foolish. This wasn’t why they were here at all. They were here for Morgan. Blanche’s face felt hot, and her eyes burned slightly, and she looked down, clutching the jacket back to her. After a moment, she got it together. “What the hell just happened?”

Morgan was still struggling to breathe. She gave up on maintaining her crouch and stood, pressed against the wall as she forced oxygen through her teeth. “Yeah, while we’re at it, we can pick up trophies from every other dumbass who died lost in a two story house!” She snapped. Stars, this was wrong. This was wrong, wrong, wrong, but Morgan couldn’t figure out in which direction, should she be doing this alone? Was that better? Or was the stupider thing to push Cassie and Blanche away? The thoughts in her head were soured like milk left in the sun, ugly blobs rising to the surface, smelling strange, and wrong. She clenched her fists. “We’re lost,” she said, trying to line up the facts for herself as much as the others. “We might die here. You need to get out. I, meanwhile, am going to--” 

Her eyes didn’t even look away. They were on the end of the hall, she could’ve sworn they were on it the whole time, when it stretched impossibly far away from them and the door, or had there been a door? There must have been, her eyes never left it-- The door opened with a cruel thump as it hit the wall on its hinges.

Morgan looked to the others and back to the hall again. “We are so screwed,” she whispered.

“Hey!” Cassie frowned at Morgan, “let’s not start turning on each other. I get it, but this is the last thing anybody needs. Keep it together.” She swiped more of the dust away from her arms as she crossed to stand close by and folded her arms over. Her eyes flickered to Blanche as she mentioned finding remains and softened. Shit. What was seeing something like that going to do to her? For a first rodeo this was like throwing her in the deep end and attaching a concrete cylinder block for good measure. She registered the letter jacket in Blanche’s hands with the letters D.I.E on it, yeah, that’s not an omen at all “Soon as this is over and we’re out of here we’ll find somebody to give that to,” she reassured. She shook it off and sighed “I couldn’t get a straight answer from anybody. It’s all just a bunch of college kids and high schoolers. Something’s got them too scared out of their minds to make any sense.” Something was causing this, messing with their heads, with what they saw. This was beyond your standard poltergeist activity; past any hallucinations they could pull. “We’re not lost and we’re going to die,” Cassie urged at Morgan again, “come on, enough,” she pressed and padded over towards Morgan to pull her along with them when the hallway gave itself The Haunted Mansion Ride treatment and elongated out. She stopped still and watched. “We’re all getting out. Whatever this is, it’s trying to mess with your head, so don’t fold on me and make it easy for them.”

Shame and guilt twisted through Blanche like a poison. She didn’t understand why the feeling was so strong, but it was enough to make her want to get sick. She cringed away from Morgan’s harsh words, clutching the jacket to her chest. What was wrong with her? Her emotions were in overdrive, and she felt like she was going to have a panic attack. Her mouth dry, she forced herself to fucking breathe. Morgan was already freaking out, Cassie and her didn’t need to deal with her useless problems because she made a bad decision. She always made bad decisions. No. Shake it off. Stop it, Blanche told herself, focusing on Cassie. “I can’t get a good look at anyone, they won’t - I mean, I think they kept running away from me. And I kept running away from them trying to find you - I mean. Sorry.” Blanche stuck with Cassie and Morgan, and reached out. “I don’t think we should go that way - hey, I don’t think we should go that way!” Blanche reaching to tug lightly on Cassie’s arm. “We’re being herded! I think we’re being herded. Let’s go back the way we - oh.”  Blanche had turned to point back the way they came, but it had changed again. No more stairs. They were being herded. Blanche swallowed hard, and pushed forward anyway. She was afraid and overwhelmed and all she wanted to do was cry. She noticed the whispering then, just as they all plowed through the door. The low whispering that in her head - “Cassie. Cassie can you hear them? Morgan?” 

Cassie’s grip pressed something back into Morgan and at last she remembered how to breathe. In. Hold Out. Five. Three. Five. In. Hold. Out. And they were all here, together, in arm’s reach. Morgan wiped her hands on her pants and took hold of each of them. She stared intently at her fingers, the fabric it pinched on their sleeves. “Sorry,” she mumbled. There was still so much gunk in her head, and that voice from before, that voice. Morgan barely had time to notice the stairs vanish before their eyes. No way out. No way around. 

Morgan tightened her grip on each of them. “I can hear something,” she said, fighting to keep her voice even. “What’s, um, what’s yours saying, Blanche?” She could only just work up the nerve to meet the girl’s eyes for a second. There was no comfort in her to give, and only the smallest piece of resolve, She was just afraid, but she wanted to tell her the truth. “Does it sound like anyone to you?” She asked.

Her eyes darted around them, waiting for another way out, but nothing came. This was the only way forward. Keeping her grip on them, Morgan led the way into the room.

There were no windows to be seen, and yet the room was full of the stale non-light of winter days and lingering hurricanes. There was a bed against the wall, a rocking chair, an empty shelf. In the middle of the room a hunched over woman, her skeleton bent in ways that should have broken her skin or sent her to the floor: feet bent the wrong way on the floor, limbs zig zagging in sharp, terrible angles, back swollen and curved like a snake in distress,  She was swaying, unnaturally steady in her balance.

“We’re not going to get any answers from them,” Cassie answered. “They’re too far gone,” she answered Blanche honestly. As Blanche tugged on her arm the house sealed the stairs off from them, they had no choice but to follow. The three of them fell into step and moved towards the room ahead as Morgan took the lead. Follow the yellow brick road it was. No way to get separated now at least. The only way was forward as the voices picked up again as they moved. A hushed whispery rustling of words sent a shiver up the nape of her neck. “I hear them,” Cassie answered quietly, her voice far away as she listened and tried to tune into the words but couldn’t make it out. As she concentrated Cassie could almost hear partial words as though she was hearing snapshots of a hushed conversation as it ebbed in and out of audio. The fact that Morgan could hear it wasn’t a welcome sign. “I can’t make much out.” As they entered the room Cassie felt her skin prickle and flare in the seconds before she caught the figure inside. She wasn’t sure what she was looking at, at first. She could make out the twisted limbs bent at unnatural angles. It was a woman, or it had been in life, but whatever was left in death had been warped and mangled into something that only just looked human. There was something about them, something important, but she felt her mind blanking the longer she looked. There was something. She could feel it. She was forgetting something, but she couldn’t remember what it was. Just the vague feeling as she rapped her fingers against the side of her leg absently in rhythm. “What do you want?” Cassie asked them, her voice steady as the figure seemed to make a move towards them.

Blanche shook her head. “I can’t - I can’t figure out what they’re saying they’re not -” It was like they were purposefully out of reach. Purposefully trying to mess with her head. Was that really a thing? Being too far gone? Blanche didn’t get a chance to think much of it, only glance between Morgan and Cassie as they entered the room they were herded too, before she froze. She clutched the jacket closer to her, like it was a blanket of comfort, except, it didn’t help. Cassie spoke to the thing in a somehow impossibly steady voice. 

“Agnes,” the figure cooed. “Martha. You’ve been disobeying me, haven’t you?” 

Blanche was fixated on the thing’s feet. Bent the wrong way as it stumbled towards them it made her a little sick. Who was Martha and who was Agnes? And who was she? Was she human once? Was this Morgan’s family? Blanche went into overdrive for a second - would this be what happened to Morgan if the curse wasn’t broken? 

“I think we should leave!” Blanche hissed, tugging at Morgan’s arm. “I think we should -”

“Did I grant you permission to leave?! Wretched child,” the woman looked straight at her.  The room seemed to lurch and Blanche was thrown off balance, letting go of Morgan with a squeak. “After showing up without notice? You’re making me angry. How dare you make me angry.” 

Her heart sank. She made it angry? “What do you want?” Blanche repeated Cassie’s question, her own voice wavering. The room span and Blanche, after a moment Blanche realized it wasn’t her anxiety and she stepped forward unable to get a good look at the thing now. “What the fuck? What’s happening? What’s happen- urck!” Blanche snapped her eyes shut and sank to her knees, but that was somehow worse.

“I wouldn’t have to punish you if you hadn’t disobeyed me -” 

Blanche tried to get a grip, and start reaching behind her to start rifling through her bag. Salt. She needed salt. No - she couldn’t focus. “No! Make it stop. Make it stop!”

Morgan jolted off balance, crashing to her knees. The woman (she was still a woman, wasn’t she?) was beginning to scream. “Don’t talk to me that way! I am your mother!”

“Oh,” Morgan wheezed, forcing her eyes upward. “You have GOT to be fucking kidding me.”

The floor seemed to tilt, but Morgan shut her eyes against the sensation. She had skipped over being ‘done’, like a deep scratch on a record, and now she was skimming past that in a burning haze. “You are fucking kidding me!” She screamed. She swung her iron rod blindly. She staggered to her feet, wheezing and shaking and livid. “Was it you? Did you wake up one morning and decide one punishment wasn’t enough? Because your daughter wasn’t the way you wanted? It was you, wasn’t it, Hannah? Answer me!”

The floor leveled out, the walls went still, and yet there was no silence in the Bachman house. The quiet tapping sound like teeth crept into the air. Tat, tat, tat, tat. Morgan opened her eyes. The ghost of Hannah Bachman hovered inches from her face. Her ghost hair dangled in front of her in ropes, hiding whatever there was to see of her face save for one wide, lashless eye. “It is you,” she said. “My precious girl.”

“No--” Morgan swung but Hannah only vanished. Her voice, reedy and bitter went on, marked only by the tapping in between.

“Another precious girl. You never change. You did this to yourselves.”

“Fuck you,” Morgan whispered, digging into her bag for the tin. She hurled it at the nearest wall and it burst open, white grains of salt hissing and rolling over the floor. 

Hannah laughed. “How many times did I tell you not to mix with others. Your family is all that matters. I would have done worse than Constance Cunningham if I could. At least she learned her lesson.” 

“You want worse?” Morgan backed to the nearest wall and slammed her cuff on it. The wood snapped, veiny cracks sweeping through as if they had been clawed in one swipe, they jutted outwards, exploding into sawdust and splinters and earth, showing the way out on the other side, if they could just get to it. But the tapping, the tapping was still in her ears, and the house, whole parts that Morgan hadn’t even consciously touched, were trembling along to its rhythm. Morgan looked to Cassie, abashed. “Oh, shit.”

Hannah paid Cassie no mind as she advanced on the other two. “Apage!” Stop she demanded and tried to step forward but the tapping grew louder and louder drowning everything out and she felt the ground come up to meet her. Every thought, every sound with it as the thing in the room rounded on the others. The more she fought against it the more the room around her seemed to twist and warp and forced her back down. The sound increased until it thrummed like a pulse inside her head. She fought again as the others fell to their knees as the room span and contorted, but was pulled back to the floor as Morgan managed to scramble to her feet and confront her.

“Make it stop!”

Something in her stirred and she pulled herself up with effort and stood, barely. She could make it stop. Make it all stop. Had to. Taking a step forward brought a wave of nausea, but she pushed through, trudging through what felt like quicksand, but kept going. No chalk. No circle. No salt. There wasn’t time. Stripping off her watch she gripped it in one hand and started to chant. Slowly and quietly at first, closing her eyes over as she focused on the words and intent and forged on as she felt the familiar tugging sensation spread out from her chest as she poured all her energy into forming the circle above. After a few moments she opened her eyes again in time to see the shape above start to take form and kept her eyes on it as she worked, aware that ahead of her Morgan and Blanche were trapped with it, but she needed time. She needed her distracted. Apologies would have to come later.

Out of the corner of her eye she turned her attention to Hannah then; too rapt in toying with the others to notice the opening forming above her on the ceiling. The gleeful look on its face made her stomach twist. That bought her some time as she gritted her teeth and concentrated as the circle above bloomed out and the dust began to fall downwards and swirl. Gaining mass in thicker dark plumes that branched out like vines as they found their target and clung to Hannah’s form. Spreading slowly upwards from their ankles began to snare her in place, creeping upwards. 

She was going to be sick. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, Blanche thanked every possible being there was that she didn’t come here alone. She was useless. What good was being able to see and hear this shit without being able to do anything about it? She buried her head in the jacket, trying so stop the wave of nausea, fear, and confusion that hit her like a truck. Still a little sick to her stomach, she looked up just as Morgan’s hand slammed against the far wall - Just as the opening in the above Hannah Backman appeared - it was the first time she had seen a real exorcism. 

Danger! Get out! Get out! An unfamiliar voice hissed in her ear and Blanche whipped her head around to look. 

“Do you hear - “ Blanche asked.

Get out! 

Blanche felt the rumbling underneath her knees and sprang upward. Danger. Get out. They needed to get out right now. She dove for Cassie first, her legs feeling like JELL-O as she yanked hard. She went for Morgan next. “We have to go, we have to go right now! Something else is wrong!” 

As if to prove her point, loud cracking through the wooden structure and the ground began to shake. Oh this was bad. “We gotta go,” Blanche pulled a little more, the damn jacket still clutched in her arms as they went barrelling out of the house. One goal, and that meant out. They needed to get out and get out now. She had hopes that whatever Cassie and Morgan did would shake the house back to normal before it collapsed on top of them. 

She shot out of the room, trusting the others to follow. They didn’t want to die either. She was shaking too bad to be able to hang onto them. Was she shaking too bad or was the house shaking too bad? PRobably both. The long hallway was there, but replaced with more doors, no doubt for more maze confusion - nobody had time for that. Debris was already falling, smashing furniture and used to be wall fixtures. Blanche saw the stairs and immediately threw herself down them as fast as she could. If they could just get to the ground level… 

Danger! Look out!

Something hard hit the back of her just as she got towards the end, and she shrieked in pain as she was knocked off her feet, her left side hitting the ground at the bottom of the staircase hard. The shaking was getting worse, the crashing of the house collapsing after them was deafening. Blanche didn’t realize until she was already back on her feet that pain was searing in through her left shoulder and she couldn’t move it - fuck. Tears bubbled  and spilled, but she saw it. “Front door -” Blanche said. “Front door. Front door!” She dove for it before it could disappear. “No! Let us out!”

Morgan didn’t need to be convinced to leave. She held onto Blanche for dear life as they sprinted out, the Bachman house screaming at them from all sides as they went. Beams roared as they buckled overhead, floors shrieked  as they snapped. Morgan pushed herself to keep pace, but the house was faster. Her foot plunged through black, dusty air. She cried out, holding onto her friends harder and collapsed, her leg crashing into the ruins. Above, the second floor was bottoming out, and for a moment Morgan wondered if she should just let it. Just let it all break and stop running. What was next after Constance anyway? What use was any--

No.

Morgan staggered up, blood dripping from her leg,and charged the rest of the way out, tears streaming down through the dust on her face. When she could see the world outside, she let herself go splat into the grass, her things splattering around her. She pressed her cuff into the ground and fixed herself on the house and all the hurt it had done with bitter certainty. She opened herself and pushed. 

The collapse of the Bachman House was not a natural thing. The ground that had held it for two hundred years became a hungry, jagged mouth. It swallowed the basement and the neglected foundation, it guzzled up the steps and the wood pillars and the beams, the windows, the roof, and the brick chimney, melding it all into dust and ash. The sound was something like fury, something like an unquenchable hunger, demanding more. 

Morgan watched, dead-eyed. All that remained was the debris from the upper floors she hadn’t had the strength to reach. And now that she was finished, and sick from draining herself, she realized she hurt...everywhere.

The tendrils snaked their way around Hannah. By the time Cassie had the sense to pay attention it was too late. Kicking and screaming she tried to lash out, but the more she fought the tighter the binds gripped and encircled her until she was shielded from view entirely. Without an ounce of sympathy Cassie kept her gaze set on whatever was left of her and finished the incantation, watching as she lost form altogether, dissipating in front of her and was pulled upwards through the opening in a pillar of smoke rising up towards the opening. She watched in horrified fascination as Hannah was swallowed up and the opening sealed itself up, disappearing in the time it took to blink. There was no time to stop or take a breath. The whole house felt like it was shaking, but her limbs struggled to respond as any energy she had left ebbed away.

“I—what?” Cassie found her voice as she heard the others frantically pulling at her. In the moments that followed Cassie was only vaguely aware of Blanche hustling her out of the way, throwing off her balance as the room came into focus again and she registered the crumbling surroundings and clocked Blanche dragging her alongside Morgan as they scrambled to find a way out.  As her head cleared, she took in the situation and dodged the falling debris as they ran for the front door. The whole house was coming down around them with an unnatural fury and she searched around for a way out as the house continued to twist and contort as it crumbled. The woodwork started to give way and she heard Blanche cry out somewhere ahead of her. “Blanche!” she yelled as the house started to fold in on itself as they cleared the stairs and fled. She heard Morgan yelp in pain and fumbled to get to them to no avail. All she could do was try to keep up. Glass smashed and sprayed out behind her and rained down and she shielded her face and neck as she sprinted for the exit. Scrambling to stay close to them Cassie barrelled out not long after them as the house seemed to crumple in on itself and howl with rage. The outside air hit her and collapsed down on the grass. As Morgan dug her cuff into the ground Cassie watched in horror as the ground itself seemed to open its mouth and swallow the remnants of the house whole until all that was left was a crater in the ground.  Looking to Blanche and Morgan she finally caught her breath and slumped back on the grass.

Blanche stumbled out of the house, the fresh air a gift to her dusty face as she collapsed into the grass. It was pitch black - of course it was, but Blanche shut her eyes tightly, breathing hard, before she watched in horrified curiosity as the house seemed to melt way into the ground. Blanche dropped back down into the grass, looking at the ever present moon above her, trying to process what the fuck just happened. Morgan was hurt. Cassie was too. The adrenaline and shock was wearing off on her  arm and it was really starting to hurt. Tears bubbled over and she sucked in a deep, deep breath. She couldn’t - she wouldn’t - lose it now. Not when she had been stupid and asked to come. What would have happened if she hadn’t been here? Blanche didn’t want to know. “I can’t… move my arm…” Blanche’s voice cracked faintly. 

[putsugaonme]

Gray Pt. 0.5: In the Beginning (Prequel)

Genre: Angst, fluff, everything in between

Characters:  OC, another OC, Ineffable husbands

Words: 1,274

Synopsis: At the peak of domesticity, Aziraphale and Crowley receive a miracle that will not only change their lives, but also the world.

aka Aziraphale and Crowley are husbands and they have child that is literally out of this world. Out of this world because she is not really 100% human, nor an angel, nor a demon. This story is about her.

 --------------------------------

A certain angel and demon are free at last from the clips of heaven and hell. Other angels and demons would never dare cross or even find them now, not after their stunts with Gabriel and Beelzebub scared the wings out of everyone. 

Honestly, they never thought their Freaky Friday Plan, as Crowley called it, would have worked. Sure, Agnes gave them a nudge, but they never really thought it would actually fool the archangel and the prince of hell. As they held each other’s hands for the swap, Aziraphale nor Crowley gave their 100% faith. They knowit might backfire and everything they’ve fought for was all for naught. All that dangerous fraternizing was for nothing.

But they remembered their admiration for all things Earth and it was enough for them to bet their lives on it, at least that’s what they said to each other on the bus ride to London. So they got their tartan glam and black everything on. (”Seriously Crowley, even your underwear is black?”, ”Watch where you’re looking, Angel.”)

To their utter surprise, Freaky Friday worked. The last drops of holy water couldn’t pierce “Crowley”, and the impossible heat of hellfire couldn’t burn even an inch of the tartan off “Aziraphale”.

They heaved their deepest sighs of relief and headed back to Earth, prancing like Sister Maria on the German Alps because they were freaking ALIVE. Not leaving without a smirk to their ex-bosses, of course. 

After practically running (Yes! Aziraphale! Running!), they see each other once again at Berkley Square where they changed back. They decided to spend the evening at The Ritz, the official landmark of what Aziraphale would then call their “first date”. (Hear that loud, demonic groan? That’s Crowley in the distance.)

Expensive spoons and forks clink against the china. People are laughing left and right, like it’s the first day of the beginning of the world (in a way, it is). Everything is swell and nice and delicious, Aziraphale thinks. Oh look, the sunlight is bouncing off Aziraphale’s platinum hair extra nicely today, Crowley thinks.

The two start on their toast and they’re so proud of each other and their new friends. The world is just! So! Splendid! All the things that happened between now and Eden can finally be placed at the back of their minds. This dinner, this champagne and this company are all they want to think about. This is their present and future now.

Crowley then concludes the toast with a “To the world.” And that’s when Aziraphale loses his freaking sushi-eating ass. His mind goes blank. He swears that the demon meant him. “To my world,” is what the angel heard. He feels it in his wings. He feels it in his gut, and his gut is never wrong no matter what too-buff-to-realize-I’m-offending-someone Gabriel said. And the angel realizes that he feels the same way to the demon. 

They love the earth, they love it intensely, but they love each other more. How could he have never realized this? How long has this been going on? Is this why he looked at Crowley’s underwear?

I love you too, Aziraphale wants to say.

“A-angel, w-whot?” Crowley freezes holding his champagne glass midair.

Aziraphale, realizing what he just said a second too late, freezes the same way.

“I-I mean…” Aziraphale feels that everything at The Ritz is suddenly interesting to look at except for the demon he loves (loves!), who is now staring at him like how the ducks stare at him when they don’t like the bread he brought.

He takes a deep breath and decides what the hell, WAHOO! 

“I mean. I love you, Crowley. Always have, I reckon. And yes yes, I know. Angels are made to love everything and everyone blah blah. B-but I don’t know. I’m quite sure I’d like it if we spent this freedom together. Forever, if necessary.” He finally looks Crowley straight in the eye, a soft smile clinging to his lips. “Would you like to love me too?”

The angel is nervous but not really. He laid out his heart without the fear of winged ethereal creatures overhearing him for the first time. His candor should earn him a sushi or two tomorrow, if all of this goes pear-shaped.

Crowley’s frozen demeanor suddenly changes into a soft smile as he puts down his glass. Aziraphale fangirls on the inside at the demon’s smile. He takes a deep breath and removes his dark glasses to look at the angel whom he realizes, at that exact moment, he loves as well. “Goddammit, Angel. Let me panic for a second, okay?”

Crowley puts his head in between his own legs and takes 3 deep breaths. Aziraphale waits with a nervous smile, 10 gulps of champagne, and 20 reassuring looks to the wait staff. Then he splashes his champagne on the table when Crowley shouts to the top of his lungs, still in between his legs.

“GAAAAAAAAAH!!!!!!!!!! WOT ANGEL D-DID YOU J-JUST! DID! I! WOT?!? You love me?!? H-how did you even! H-how?!” After everyone at The Ritz shit their pants from the outburst, he finally holds his head up and squishes Aziraphale’s face to a puffy pout. The Angel is caught by surprise at the sudden 2-inch distance from the demon’s face, so he holds on to the table for dear eternal life.

“Do you even know what you’re saying? Of course I want to spend eternity with you! Isn’t that the whole point of all our plans?! Haven’t I been inviting you to move in with me since the beginning of time?!” The panicked waiter comes near them trying to stop the fuss. “Shut up, please, we’re having a moment here!” Crowley says without breaking eye contact with the angel. The waiter pees his pants (that also has shit, if you remember) and retracts.

“You mean to tell me that-that we can eat and do anything we want now? I can show you my plants? I can hang out in your shop whenever and wherever? We can travel the world? We can feed the ducks together without being kidnapped? You mean to tell me… we can finally fraternize?!” Crowley asks like a bullet with unnecessary emphasis on the last word. Aziraphale is still pouting like a baby chick between the demon’s burning hands. He puts a hand on top of one of the demon’s.

“Why, yes. Isn’t that what we’re doing now? We’re free to do anything, love. But you haven’t answered my question.” Aziraphale struggles to speak but is happy to see the demon’s childish excitement over spending time with him.

“Ah, yes yes, the question.” Crowley finally adjusts back to his inside voice and moves his hands to Aziraphale’s shoulders but still keeps his face close and eyes full of shine. “Yes, my angel. I would like to love you too. Forever, if necessary.”

And that’s when this story started. With a fraternizing angel and demon too soft and dumb to do their jobs properly. But hey, fraternizing with each other was the best goddamn decision they’ve ever made.

Now, cue Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy by Queen.