#I HAVE BEEN TERRIFIED OF SPIDERS SINCE I WAS 4 AND 1 CRAWLED ON MY FACE WHILE I WAS NAPPING IN THE GARDEN | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

itstheendofthegoddamnworld · 5 years

Text

Male Drow (Dark Elf Vevmis) x Human! Female Reader Part 3

Warnings for mild language. Vevmis is not so good when it comes to other humans.

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 4 - Part 5

Warning: mild language and threats

The Underestimated Part 3

The spiders dangled around the size of hounds in his dreams, watching with their many eyes in the void of their home.

Their home - his once - had been for his brothers, the blade for the morning shadow, he had fought with him for carnage, but now he was a traitor, stood beneath them with their fangs sharpened.

He was supposed to be here in the afterlife - or what was an afterlife in the eyes of his kind - yet Vevmis knew it as one, purple light softly glowing through the cave as whatever lurked grew close.

His sister was there, his mother too, all in shapes of spides, and the people he had known his long life too, some in the forms of arachnids and driders; some who had judged and betrayed him just as much as he had too.

His family and his blade stood before him in a circle, blades sharpened with the crimson crescent in the hilt. He had on their armour in shame and now dwelled where the light races did.

They did not speak to another nor to him, but the judgement was clear in their eyes at the way they looked down upon him. He was never like one of them; their black sclera and red eyes were one of the main reasons in contrast.

He was just surviving, surviving for all his life with the people who he didn't even feel pride for. His blood - informers to one another - were no different from him.

Before him, the circle tightened, and he stood in their trial, awaiting their verdict. The ground dampened like water soaking through the soils, Vevmis could feel the black water seep into his bare skin, the ground shaking with every step of something.

Before him, the drider goddess stood in all her grandeur, the Mother herself of destruction and the presage of chaos, she crawled her way through to stand before him, eyes glowing with rubies attached above her many eyes.

"They speak of your verdict, Vevmis, son of Orgolldiirn. Your fate has been already sealed."

He had awoken to pain in his stomach and rainwater dripping in his eyes, he had scrambled and crawled away to hide and throw everything up in his stomach into the dirt; nothing but clear bile being there but the pain had disappeared.

His skin was raw and senseless, the cold of the outside was something he would be used to, but he and his companion had run out of coin easily and meant it was more difficult to find places above inns to stay in.

His obsidian skin was sweating as he fanned himself, coming back to the area they had been sleeping in, the fires numbingly bitter now that they were dimmed out.

From this angle, Vevmis could see you, sleeping soundly with no noise coming from you. He was lucky he had been trained in the art of stealth and you hadn't been awoken to him throwing up everywhere.

No, he didn't want to seem weak in front of you, that had happened already, and never again.

He had been exposed back then, and he didn't like that one bit, and Vevmis was always for himself and no-one else.

He ran his shaking hands through his silver tresses, wet from droplets but not enough to soak him to the bone. His dreams were vivid, and although elves of both dark and light in counterpart didn't exactly sleep the same way as humans did, he was certain that what he had had was more of a nightmare.

He couldn't stir away from the feeling of being watched, even now when he closed his eyes. It felt everyone was to be against him more so than they already were.

And now, he wasn't alone, he couldn't just run away and not think of it, he was with another mind and body, someone who thought just as much for survival as he did.

Vevmis watched you more and more, watching the way your chest rose and fell with each breath you took; tenderly reminding him of what it felt like to be at peace with oneself.

He was seemingly fascinated by your wit and ways of surviving - although, he had been better - and never once did he think that someone like you could make him feel weak.

It was better than a feeling of being weak in front of an enemy. Vevmis had thought so when he had met you when you had saved him and took him into an odd place and part of a land that wouldn't accept him.

He was certain you were insane, but he knew that something about you was not drawing him away, but closer.

He admired you, he admitted to himself, and although he was familiar with the females of his kind, he had certainly not been familiar with humans before.

He had been told since a youngling by crone mothers and high priests of how bad humans were up top, how wild and animalistic they were, unaware of their presence's, he had been taught as a soldier, as a warrior, to kill and not question anything around him.

You stirred momentarily in your sleep, lying facing him and with such a peaceful look on your face. He had seen that face look at him with disgust, then tolerance, then... could it be understanding?

He poked at the fires once more, heat coming to life as he watched the flames. Tomorrow they would keep onwards until they would be near to your settlement, and after months of being on the run, travelling and hiding, living in not knowing they would make another day, you would be home, but Vevmis wouldn't.

He told himself to go back to sleep, crawling closer to you and stroking a stray lock behind your ear. He relaxed at your heat, warmer and in many ways, warmer in regards others unlike himself.

Had his sister seen him now, she would've killed him for acting so soft.

But she was dead, and he wasn't. And now he could close his eyes, getting comfortable as he pulled you taut to his chest, enjoying how it felt to be in another's arms and be wanted. He kissed at your hairline one final time before a euphoric state overtook him.

Yes, he could slacken, and dream of anything but blackness.

You had been roused before he had, the rays of sunshine mixed with the muskiness of the rain had brought you to open your eyes, taking in your lighter surroundings.

Vevmis was asleep as usual, curled around you as you laid with your back pressed into him. You were careful to untangle yourself from him, slowly getting up and readying the horses you had stolen a few moons ago.

You needed food, and the nearest inn had been full of humans, but you were in hopes of hiding Vevmis in with a disguise.

Speaking of the dark elf, the two of you hadn't spoken of what had happened the time at the inn, and from the memories, you had of it, the areas he had his hands, it was all so much to not ignore.

There was a fire that hadn't been there before that had been kindled now within your core, and you were unsure (perhaps even terrified) to speak with Vevmis about it.

He spoke so lewd that day like he had ownership of you more than like a slave like you were his.

A coarse cough brought you to turn around to see said dark elf undressing right in front of you, with already unbuttoning his tunic to reveal his muscled torso to you.

You were very clearly aware of what was going on, but your eyes quickly averted to not look his way.

"Do I need to question why you're stripping?" You blurted, shielding your eyes elsewhere.

"There is a creak not too far from here, I'm sure you would prefer me not smelling like horse dung and more so like wildflowers." The dark elf grinned, his teeth stark white in comparison to his beautiful obsidian skin.

"Yes, the creak is not far, but I'm sure no trappers would want to see a dark elf roaming around nude in the early hours of the day!"

Vevmis rolled his eyes, "Let them gawk, there's nothing to hide, you've seen it all pet."

You were next to roll your eyes, an apparent shade of a deep blush reddening on your cheeks. "Yes–n-no– that's beside the point! Cover up!"

Vevmis flexed deliberately your way, making you to fully turn away from him when you heard the sound of buckles being unfastened and the sound of trousers being taken off.

"Vevmis, go now before someone sees you... or us." You directed.

You were alarmed at the feeling of two arms snake around your waist, being pulled flush into the broad and bare chest of the drow. "But I enjoy you being in my arms." He purred in your ear.

This is how it went, he flirted and flirted and nothing else would come of it, and it was deeply frustrating you more and more. It was if he was trying to get a reaction out of you.

Your head whipped back to face him. "I want you to go."

He gawked you when you turned back to him, lavender eyes blown completely wide for you to see how big his pupils were. Just him staring back at you was too intense.

You had to take a cautious step back from him, wary of what he would do next. "Okay pet, for your sake." He settled, moving past you to get down to where the creak was, leaving you to yourself.

You had to pull your eyes away when you looked down to see his bare behind.

You waited for his return and when he did come back was when the two of you set off. It was a bumpy ride at first, with nothing but one saddle and you riding and Vevmis close into your backside for the journey.

You were sure you would get saddle sore after a couple of minutes, the wind blowing and dancing around you, picking up strays of your messy hair and blowing it around you.

"You're slowing down. Must we take a rest or are you deciding on dropping us in a human territory again?" Vevmis questioned from closely in your ear.

"You know it will be bad for us if we do. But it seems it is the best thing to do. We have hardly any money to afford for a bed let alone money for food, we'll starve by tomorrow."

Some silence settled upon the two of you as you rode. You considered it would be good to not hear from the dark elf, but as the trees widened and something came into view, did Vevmis speak up once more.

"Up there." He pointed with his right, catching your eye to the first thing of smoke, lots of it swelling and coming out in large amounts. You saw a cot on the top of a morose hill, with small lands full of sheep and goats, a land full of flat grass and pale clouds in the sky.

"Think we could get somewhere to stay there?" You doubted first, manoeuvring the horse to go up the hill. The road was rough and bumpy but it managed to get you to the back of the cot, small yet homely.

You stationed yourself not too far to the doors, shielding Vevmis away from anyone who could come out and walk outside. "You stay here, don't create any noise."

"And what about you? You're practically trespassing." The dark elf scoffed, throwing over his hood to over part of his silver locks.

"Rich coming from you, Vevmis, but I think it would be best hearing from a human than an elf. Especially of one who hails from the Underdark."

"I won't be too long, the barn is somewhere I can get you to stay whilst I gather some food and then we'll be gone by the morrow."

"You're gonna kill them?" He grinned toothily, glimpsing towards the entry. "Or are they going to kill us in our sleep?"

"We'll have to see, the point is that you need to keep your mouth shut if you want to keep your tongue." You retorted.

Vevmis clicked his tongue. "Or my head."

You sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of your nose. "I know what I'm doing-" You would've continued had you felt something press into the back of your neck, something cold and sharp made your words halt in your throat.

"Give me one bloody good reason why I don't slit your throat right now?" A rough voice came from behind you, one that sounded so dangerously close to your ear, it made your mind go through a fight or flight response.

You were pressed into the back of someone's chest, the blade being moved from behind to the base of your jugular, your eyes landing on Vevmis as he had already grabbed a weapon, eyes narrowed into slits.

"What you doing travelling with a drow? A devil below grounds?" The disembodied voice gruffly spoke, pulling you back with a harsher grip.

The tense atmosphere was interrupted by another voice coming

"Wren! What in the name of the seven are you doing?"

"Get back inside, right now, Raelle!"

You had turned your head to get a glimpse of the female not too far from you, a young woman of maybe twenty-and-two, with eyes as green as moss and hair faded than rusted copper.

"We're looking for somewhere to stay, we mean no harm." Your voice came out rougher than expected, aware of the very knife very close to cutting you open.

Your eyes darted to your right, glaring. "Vevmis put the knife down." Said dark elf already had a dirk in hand, glowering menacingly from his spot on the saddle.

"Like hell, and what will the drow do? Skin me alive?" The voice of Wren argued.

"Like skinning a hare, it'll be that easy." Countered Vevmis with a cold stare.

This isn't helping our situation. You thought, the blade sticking deeper into your neck until you were certain it would break the skin.

"Let her go, Wren." Came the red-haired female, glancing nervously back and forth between the three of you.

Time passed with a great time, but you felt the grip on you loosen, finally, the blade was moving away from your throat and you were shoved back to your horse, a hand coming to rest on your shoulder from behind.

You knew it was Vevmis, his voice softly asking if you were okay. The last thing you wanted was to say you weren't and watch the massacre unfold. It was easier to lie.

"Thank you... I appreciate your mercy." You spoke up to the two, looking over to them. Wren was similar in looks to Raelle, the same copper hair colour but was shorter and his eyes were the colour of jade.

Both of them had pale skin and freckles on their face and arms, but Raelle seemed to have more. You quickly knew they must've been related.

"My brother is most rowdy when it comes to... visitors. Please, you must be tired and of the need for rest. You are most welcome to stay the night."

"Raelle," Wren warned with a hot temper. You caught glimpse of the kitchen knife in his grip.

"It would be more appreciative if offered. My friend and I have been travelling for many days, and require medicine." You spoke up, ignoring the way your stomach fluttered when you glanced back to Vevmis - who already had his eyes on you.

"We have medicine here! We were just preparing for supper, you are welcome to join us, we have quite the lot to share." Raelle smiled a broad grin, a shy girl that tried to keep the peace in comparison to her brother.

Wren was the opposite and frowned more than smiled, and all for the right reasons, but didn't say much afterwards.

The meal was awkward when it was time to eat, and you did feel bad for the siblings, for you were certain the very sight of seeing you and Vevmis scarfing down the food around you make you look like starved beasts.

But the food was unbelievable. Roasted mutton, winter squash and pigeon pie, with a selection of hard and soft cheeses and biscuits, dried and fresh fruit that varied in colours and sizes. You were astonished to find so much food for the winter when food was scarce.

Vevmis was consuming food as his life depended on it, juices from the mutton trickling down his chin but he paid no mind to wipe it off. Raelle gave a nervous giggle at the sight, watching the way the two of you hoarded the food on your plates.

Vevmis eyed the suspicious colourful fruit beside the cheese board, and when Raelle gave him an eager smile of encouragement, holding it up. "Here, try some! The dried apricot is delicious!"

Vevmis eyed the fruit as if it was poisoned, "I have never had... fruit before."

"Just as I suspected." Commented sourly by Wren, who was sat opposite you had barely touched his food. Vevmis watched as you took a piece of an apricot, the drow following as his face scrunched at the taste.

You were aware of the tension in the air of their home, but you played the fool, smiling gullibly to Raelle's harsh nudge to get him to hold his tongue.

"Where were you two travelling to?" Raelle asked after the passing of time simmered.

"My village. It's a few days away, but we have been most unfortunate of the raids. Vevmis and I met on... odd arrangements." You began, meeting eyes with the drow as you quickly looked back to Raelle.

"Wow, I have never met a drow before." Raelle marvelled, eyes gleaming with wonder as she stared at Vevmis. "Do you all live in darkness?"

"With spiders big as cats, they crave for blood." Vevmis chewed on some bread as he spoke nonchalantly. It made you wonder was he putting an awkward effect on him to make him seem more like a savage or did he lack in social skills.

He has been able to speak with me, maybe it is just men who are the awkward one? You thought, ignoring the way Raelle nervously giggled. "Do tell me," She directed her question back to you, "have you seen them? The drow?"

A cough was caught in the back of your throat, and you would've smacked some sense into the girl for coming out with such questions in front of a drow, but you quietly directed the subject to be on something else.

"I have seen orcs. Now, they're certainly something."

"My brother is wanting to marry me off to the neighbour, a brute of an orc but he has good ties to people elsewhere. He is rather tall too." She rambled.

"I fucking hate orcs." Vevmis growled low in his throat, "They're messy, in fights and hygiene."

"I'm most surprised to hear that," smirked Wren, holding his glass, "I thought your kind would be similar, existing in squab."

You don't know who went first to lunge, but you didn't expect Vevmis to practically crawl his way over to your side of the table, the small table knife in hand, holding it threateningly to Wren's throat.

"Say that again, boy, and I'll gut you like a fish."

"Wren!" Yelled Raelle.

"Vevmis, drop him. Fuck sake, lower the knife." You hissed, gripping at the same arm holding the knife in Vevmis' grip. The drow looked back on you, his gaze softening, before he reluctantly loosened his hold, finally moving away to stand from the table and storm out.

You three sat in your chair,s no-one daring to speak nor move. "Excuse me, I must go to collect him." You apologised, throwing your napkin to the floor as you hurried out after the dark elf.

That could've gone better. You thought, the candlelight dimly failing to stay alight. Raelle had given you the barn to rest in for the night, but it wasn't exactly good for keeping the cold out; creeping inside where the flames keeping you warm were dying out.

You gazed out from the small cracked window, watching with no knowing what could be out there. It was dark so how could you see? You could only hope you would be able to get some sleep, even if it was for a few hours.

You had to gather Vevmis and persuade him to stay for a few more hours, promising him that you would leave straight before the sun rose. He was stubborn but he was able to listen.

Speaking of the dark elf, he was sat piled high around him with hay, sharpening his dagger with a stone that he found from outside, his words of 'using it on the pale boy in the morning'. You wanted to take his words as a joke.

"You know, glaring over there won't help our situation. We can barely go a few days without causing an uproar." You sighed.

Vevmis wasn't listening to your words, more so interested in his blade, which he didn't stop sharpening, the clicks of the metal causing something to irk inside your mind, something uncomfortable settling.

"Are you going to listen to me? I think it's sharp enough."

Still, he ignored you. You huffed, standing from your spot and marching your way to him. "Vevmis-"

"They want me dead." Were his words, a mere whisper.

You blinked back at his words, taken back as if you received a hard slap to the side of your face. "What? They might want you dead if you threaten them."

"I see them. My family, they're disappointed in me. They wish for my eventual demise." He confessed. "I won't be able to protect you."

You shuffled until you were sat next to him. "What do you mean? Where did you see them?"

"Why does it matter?" He scoffed. "I'll be dead either way. Killed by the humans up top or by my kind."

You listened carefully to his words, you could hear the pain in his words; he wanted to live. "You can't let their words harm you. You just have to live your life?"

Vevmis turned his head back to you as if contemplating but he seemed amused by something. "Your human life expectancy can't even compare in years to a drow's life. Yet, you all find soft wisdom in everything you see." A hand found itself pulling a strand of your hair behind your ear. "Why?"

You didn't think you would be getting so dreary with Vevmis, talking about life with him and your tragic mortality. "It's what we have to do. Look at the bright side of life. It's our greatest misfortune, but we learn."

Vevmis scoffed at your words. "You sound like a human I knew once. A clergy."

You smiled. "You just have to live Vevmis. Live like every day is your last."

He scooted closer to you until you could smell the pine and firewood on his clothing, his breath on you keeping your neck warm. "How should I do so?"

You bit the inside of your cheek, searching for something in his eyes, and in this light, the lavender mixed with something you thought you had never seen before. They were mixed with a wine-red.

You were certain the words you were wanting to use were what he was looking for. "I think you know."

He captured your lips with his own, drowning you in his life, the life you didn' t know he had lived. He was everything, a flickering flame, a bloomed poisonous flower, he was the risk you wanted to take. A leap off the cliff and out into the undiscovered.

He kissed you and kissed you more, and nothing needed to be said between the two of you. It was lust, just peace that the two of you needed after so long. Two people who never knew would understand each other, finally coming to elongated peace.

310 notes · View notes

bobasheebaby · 4 years

Text

Howard Wolowitz Prompts

1 “You know, I'm really glad you decided to learn Mandarin.” “Why?” “Once you're fluent, you'll have a billion more people to annoy instead of me.”

2 “NAME does not cry.” “That's true, you'd rust.”

3 “I invented a game. Want to play?” “Sure.” “It's called NAME or DOG NAME. I give you actual quotes I've heard NAME say, and you guess if he/she was talking to his/her boyfriend/girlfriend or his/her dog.”

4 “Settle this. Those little animated pictures on the Internet, are they called ‘gifs’ or ‘jifs’?” “Well, the G stands for ‘graphics.’ That's a hard G, so I'd say ‘gif.’” “What? The guy who invented it says it's ‘jif.’” “I'm sorry, do you mean the guy or the juy?”

5 “So you can never take it (the sweater) off?” “No.” “Not even to sleep?” “No.” “So you're just an idiot?” “It's called proving a point.” “Is the point you're an idiot?”

6 “We have to go over some ground rules about NAME.” “Like when it turns out he’s/she's made of rubber, I don't say anything?” “He’s/She's very real.” “That's what it says on the box. Right next to dishwasher safe.”

7 “Aren't you gonna come with me?” “While you confront your father:mother about his/her sex life? I'd rather go back to that bar in assless chaps.”

8 “OK, is everyone clear on the plan?” “Yes, NAME 1’s going to wet himself/herself I'm gonna throw up, NAME 2’s gonna run away and you're going to die. Shall we synchronize our watches?”

9 “NAME, let me take this opportunity to point out that you are looking particularly ravishing today.” “Not with a thousand condoms, NAME.” “So there is a number.”

10 “Hey, you want to make sure he/she gets nowhere with NAME without jeopardizing your friendship with either of them?” “I'm listening.” “Just tell him/her to do everything you've done with him/her for the last two years.”

11 “On the potty, what are you five?” “It's a potty, what do you call it?” “A toilet.” “That's a little vulgar for the dinner table, don't you think?” “And potty is okay?” “Potty is innocent. Potty is adorable.” “What do you do on the potty, wee-wee?” “If I don't have to boom-boom.”

12 “Try telling him/her it's a non-optional social convention.” “What?” “Just do it!” “It's a non-optional social convention.” “Oh, fair enough.” “He/She came with a manual.”

13 [NAME smiles in a grotesque way] “Oh crap that's terrifying.”

14 “He/She didn't dump me. We were just in different places in the relationship.” “I fail to see how a relationship can have the qualities of a geographical location.” “It's very simple. NAME was living in a little town called ‘Please don't leave me’, while NAME had just moved to the island of ‘Bye-bye!’”

15 “Are you planning on kidnapping a man/woman?” “Sarcasm?” “Yes, but mixed with genuine concern.”

16 “NAME knows football? I mean Quidditch, sure, but football?”

17 “Puppies, how do you stand on puppies?” “A puppy once bit my face!” “Of course it did.”

18 “NAME, there's no place for truth on the Internet.”

19 “I see. I assume since the rest of you have set the bar so low, you're saving the most impressive contribution for last. Go on NAME, dazzle me.” “Well, my power is the ability to pretend like I give a damn about your piddly-ass problem. And that's 24/7 buddy.”

20 “You can't just throw everything in the closet.” “Hey, you can tell me what to do and how to do it, but not both at the same time. This isn't sex.”

21 “We're looking for NAME, not Marmaduke.”

22 “NAME it's the phone!” “I know it's the phone NAME! I hear the phone!” “Who is calling at this ungodly hour?” “I don't know!” “Well ask them why are they calling at this ungodly hour!” “How can I ask them when I'm talking to you?”

23 “Well no, you're mistaken. You give speeches all the time. What you can't do is shut up.”

24 “The way I see it, I'm halfway to pity sex.”

25 “Why do I even try?” “I'm going to fix this right now.” “Okay, but just make it look like an accident.”

26 “Love is not a sprint, it's a marathon, a relentless pursuit that only ends when he/she falls into your arms — or hits you with the pepper spray.”

27 “Look, if you don't want to go to the party, just don't go. You're a grown man. Act like one. Tell NAME you want to spend the weekend having a sleepover and playing video games with your friends!”

28 “Can we take a moment to discuss that I just lied to the government for you?” “Yeah, I would not have done that for you.”

29 “NAME ruined Raiders of the Lost Ark* for me, so I'm trying to find something beloved of his/hers and ruin that.” “Because his/her life wasn't enough?” *[insert any movie, play or book]

30 “I think you broke the dowels. You're not gonna have time to glue it back on. You'll have to nail it.” “With what?” “Does he/she have any pillows or wine glasses?” “He/She does.”

“Great. Neither of those. Try a hammer!” “Did that feel good? You feel like a big man now?”

31 “Why're you being so quiet? You upset or are you just rebooting?”

32 “Come on, NAME, Star Wars.” “I'm pushing play. I mean it. If we don't start soon, George Lucas is going to change it again.”

33 “Come on, one day this may double in value and be worth half what I paid for it!”

34 [Chuckles] “Look at that. There's finally a man/woman in your life you can talk to.”

35 “I shouldn't be raising a kid. I don't even eat my own vegetables.”

36 “I love you. And I'm not just saying that because your breasts are gonna get bigger.”

37 “First take a picture with me.” “Why?” “Well, NAME and I always talked about learning how to make cocktails like this together, so I taught myself and I'm putting this on Instagram so he/she can see it and feel like a turd. Say cheese!”

38 “Stop hitting on my man/lady or you shall experience my wrath.” “I am not hitting on him/her.” “And I am not your Lady.” “And you have no wrath.”

39 “NAME, relax. I am not interested in your boyfriend/girlfriend.” “I hope not. Because you don't wanna mess with me.” [Gets in NAME’s face] “I'm crazy.”

40 “How did you get so brave all of a sudden?” “It's easy. The spider's crawling up your arm.”

41 “Why are you back from your date so early?” “Well, in romance, as in show business, always leave them wanting more.” “What exactly does that mean?” “He/She struck out.”

42 “Sit, you look like you've had a long day.” “Naw, she always looks like that. ... Because she married an idiot.”

43 “You guys never use that space up there. Why not get a table?” “Do you want the long answer or the short answer?” “How come we never get that option?”

44 “You're a putz. Do you what that means?” “Yeah. Do you?”

45 “Excuse me, I happen to be very comfortable with my masculinity.” “How is that possible?”

46 “Oh, you're saying I don't do anything around here? Look at my chore chart!”

47 “Well don't come crying to me when you don't get your allowance.” “It's not an allowance. It's a stipend! And we said we weren't going to call it an allowance in front of my friends.”

48 “Neither of them will be the actual cake. I'm just using it as a bargaining chip to get NAME to agree to the whole wedding party getting rings and us getting one ring to rule them all.” “I forget, which mental hospital are you guys registered at?”

49 “You know what we should do? We should show the closet to NAME.” “Why?” “Are you kidding? He’s/She’s like a savant at organizing. Everything in his/her apartment/house has a label on it. Including his/her label maker, which has a label that says label maker. And if you look really close at that label maker label, you’ll see a label that says label.”

50 “I was so smooth on that date.” “Dude, I made you smooth. You were an idiot.” “Whatever, dude. He/She kissed me.” “It might have been on your lips, but it was my kiss.” “Oh, fine. Let's agree he/she kissed both of us.” “Okay.”

#howard wolowitz #big bang theory quotes #big bang theory prompts #dialogue prompts #writing prompts #quaratine sucks and making these keeps my mind busy #i live in covid 19 hell

17 notes · View notes

lapixie · 5 years

Text

Ten Years Later Chapter 4

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Chapter 4

At dinner, they were joined by the remaining Avengers that were in the area.

“Nat, Bruce, Steve. Howdy” Howdy? What the hell? What even was that?

Giving him a weird look, Steve replied, “Howdy Tony. It’s been awhile.”

“Actually, it’s only been a day for me. Bruce, I heard you tamed the Hulk? That’s awesome!”

Call him petty, but he still wasn’t completely over Siberia. Plus, that really was awesome!

“Yeah, Pete really helped me out. It’s been a lot calmer since that was all figured out.”

Natasha just nodded at him. He didn’t really expect more from the spy though. Then Peter walked in the room, and he couldn’t believe the difference. She looked at him, and her smile literally lit up her face.

“Паук, we actually get to see you at dinner? Has the world stopped turning?”

You could hear the love and affection in her voice.

“Hey Nat. Friday kicked us out. Pepper pulled rank.”

“I’m shocked Friday let her. Usually no one has higher rank than you.”

Peter laughed a little before replying, “Tony is back now. She's got her daddy back. She just wants to take care of him.”

“Yeah, but I bet she still has plenty of love left for her adopted daddy. Notice you’re both up here, right?”

“Adopted daddy? Pete, did you steal my babies?” He said it all tough, but couldn't help cracking up when Peter turned red and started sputtering out assurances. “Pete, Pete, I’m just kidding! It’s not like I was only gone for a week. I’m glad they had someone to take care of them. They’re kind of needy!”

“Excuse me boss, but I’m not the one who has to be reminded about basic survival skills, like, ya know, eating and sleeping.”

“Yeah, yeah, ya sassy cow.”

“Don’t listen to him Friday, you know he’d be lost without you!” Pepper laughed as she walked through the door. “So what’s for dinner? Please tell me that Steve didn’t pick again?”

“Hey! The food I pick is good! And good for you!”

Bruce just smiled and shook his head, replying, “No, in honor of Tony, we went with cheeseburgers.”

“Bruce, my man! I knew there was a reason you were my favorite! Hear that sugarplum? If you want the spot back, you’ll have to work hard. He got me cheeseburgers!”

“Tony, you’re such a food whore. You’ll come crawling back within a week. I know where to get the donuts you love.”

“Oh. Well. Yeah. Those are some good donuts…”

Dinner continued in a lively manner and Tony realized that Peter was right, back in that first conversation, when he said that the snap changed people. They were still themselves, but at the same time...not. Happy was quieter, and obviously closer with Pete. They must have bonded over missing May. Rhodey still laughed at all of his jokes, but there was a perpetually surprised look in his eyes, like he couldn’t believe he was talking to Tony. Steve was probably the most changed. He wasn’t as uptight. You would think it would be the opposite with everything that went down, but it was like he decided life was too short, and to live and let live.

Peter, as much as he changed physically, growing ten years older, was actually the least changed personality wise. Sure, his humor was more adult, but he was still the same bubbly, giggly, genius, amazing person. And his physical changes were the things dreams were made of. His face, his body, his voice, his...he really needed to stop thinking about this. Especially during dinner. That Peter was at. Looking so good that Tony wanted to just taste him. No, stop thinking that!

“TONY!” Nat yelled, causing his head to snap up.

“What!?” He didn’t know why she was yelling, he was sitting two seats down from her!

“I’ve been calling your name for over a minute! What were you thinking about?”

Her eyes bounced between him and Peter, and he could see her brain working. He hated working with a spy!

“Nothing much, just trying to get everything from the past ten years straight in my head. So what’s up?”

“I could tell you weren’t listening! We all decided to have a little get together to celebrate your return. Nothing big, mostly just us and a couple of Peter’s friends. You in?”

“For a party? Is my name Tony Stark?” He smiled wide, a party was just what he needed to get his mind off Peter.

“Uh, I thought it was Tony Stank…” Rhody piped up with a smirk.

“You’re sliding buddy! Now you’re not even my second favorite!”

Plans were quickly made for the part to take place in a week. It was going to be small, with only him, Peter, Pepper, Happy, Rhodey, Nat, Bruce, Steve, MJ, Flash, and Thor if they could reach him. He was looking forward to it.

The following few days were filled with plans for the party (just because it was small didn’t mean it wasn’t going to be amazing. He was Tony Stark), catching up with everybody, being confined to the tower (since they weren’t letting anyone know he was back yet), and lab time with Peter.

Lab time was simultaneously the time he looked forward to the most, and dreaded the most, both for the same reason.

He loved spending time with Peter. Everyday he got to see a little more into his mind, and it was a beautiful mind. Even more beautiful than his body, and Tony could say unequivocally that that was a hard feat to manage. They could discuss theories for hours. The experiments they performed had already given results, getting them ever closer to a breakthrough in getting everyone else back. They hoped.

He hated spending time with Peter. It was a torture that he had seldom experienced before. Usually, if he wanted someone, he got them. He wasn’t conceited, but he knew how he looked. And add his money and power to the equation and not many (any) said no. But with Peter, it was different. He couldn’t even try with him. It would be wrong. Peter thought of him as a mentor. So every brush of his body against Tony’s, every smile that lit up his eyes, every time he grabbed Tony’s arm when he was excited about a breakthrough...it was all a little piece of hell. Especially when sometimes he could almost convince himself that Peter had feelings for him too. When he would swear that his eyes lingered on his lips. When his hand held onto his body a bit longer than necessary. His wishful thinking was slowly killing him.

Natasha had also cornered him one day to...discuss...how she felt about him bringing Peter to the airport. In his defense, he didn’t think it would go the way it did, but she did not care.

“He was fifteen Tony! Fifteen! You don’t bring a kid to an Avenger fight! If I could go back in time, I would break your face! Make another decision that could hurt him like that in the future, and I will make sure you go so far away that they won’t be able to get you back this time.”

It seemed that they had gotten quite close in the last decade, spider solidarity and all. He had never seen Natasha break her stoic facade for someone like that before. He was actually really glad Pete had her in his corner.

“I promise Nat. I won’t hurt him again.”

“Good. See that you don’t. Now, about the party, how do you feel about drinking games?”

Talk about whiplash! “Uh, I'm good with them. Wait, are they new? Will I need to be taught the rules?”

“No, we’ll keep it old school, just for you.”

“Okay, sounds good. Talking about old school, let’s make that the theme! We’ll pretend it’s a high school party, with cheap alcohol, Truth or Dare, Spin the Bottle...how’s that sound?”

Natasha’s eyes seemed to glow as she slowly nodded, and he never wanted to take something back so bad before. But he’d be damned before he let he see him back down from her.

“Sounds good, Tones. I’ll make sure everything goes smoothly.”

That did not terrify him. At all.

The day of the party finally rolled around, and Tony was ready to let loose a bit. He was wound so tight from being around Peter and holding himself back. He just wanted a drink or two and to relax. Everyone slowly started to gather in the living area, after grabbing a drink from the bar. Natasha had cleared all the furniture to the edges, with bean bag type chairs in a circle so they’d all be lounging together.

“Okay everyone, the first game in our old school night of fun is going to be Spin the Bottle, so everyone grab a seat! Tony, as person of dubious honor, you have the first spin!”

Natasha was way too happy. She was planning something. He didn’t know what, but he knew it was something. He sank down into one of the (surprisingly) comfortable bean bags, and Natasha immediately grabbed the one opposite him. Rhodey took the seat next to him, with Happy, Pepper and Bruce between him and Nat. Steve took the other side of her and Flash sat quickly next to him. Very quickly. Crush quickly. MJ then sat next to Flash, leaving Peter to sit between her and Tony.

On the one hand, now he had to sit next to him for the game. On the other hand, now he didn’t have to look at him the entire time. And he got to sit next to him for the game. Taking a deep breath, he placed his hand on the bottle, and gave it a big spin. After forever, it came to a stop on...himself.

“Ha, Tony! Even the bottle knows you love yourself!”

“Funny, Pep. Personally, I think the bottle just likes me. Let’s try again.”

This time, the bottle landed on Bruce. Well, this will be...interesting.

“Brucie-bear, guess it’s me and you! And just so you know, I’m not holding back!”

Honestly, Bruce appeared a bit...terrified...but he still gamely started knee walking towards Tony as Tony went towards him. Meeting in the middle, he immediately placed a hand behind Bruce’s head and pulled him forward as he leaned in. He softly kissed his lips, then let his tongue out to lick the bottom lip. Bruce automatically opened his mouth, and Tony let his tongue slip inside. He ran it along the roof of Bruce’s mouth, and felt Bruce’s tongue enter his mouth. Sucking on it a little, he let himself softly bite it. When he finally sat back, Bruce looked a bit dazed.

“You okay there Brucie-bear?”

Starting to shuffle back to his seat, Bruce called back to him, “Yeah, just trying to remember I’m straight.”

Everyone laughed at that, and Bruce was the next to spin. He got Nat, and he really made sure to remember that he was straight. Nat landed on Flash, who tried to get handsy and learned real quick that the Black Widow don’t play. He landed on MJ, who wrinkled her nose and kissed his cheek. She landed on Happy, and gave him a big, exaggerated peck on the lips, and then he landed on Peter. They eyed each other up, then darted together to give the quickest peck possible.

“That was kind of like kissing my uncle. Weird. Okay, my turn!”

Holding his breath, he watched the bottle turn and turn until it finally started slowing down. He thought it was going to stop on Rhodey, but it kept going just that much more, to land on him.

Peter looked at him with a grin, saying, “Now, don’t go easy on me Tony. I want the full Stark experience!”

Heart racing, he leaned in and brushed his lips over Peters. It was like a lightning strike. Peter’s tongue demanded entrance to his mouth, and he gladly gave it, dueling for space with his own tongue. One hand was behind Peter’s head, while the other traced up his spine. Peter crawled closer, until they were touching, chest to chest, thigh to thigh. He was getting hard, and he had to stop himself from rutting forward against Peter’s thigh.

He was holding himself in check pretty well until he heard Peter give a little moan. He dropped both his hands to Peter’s ass, pulling him forward and up, rubbing their cocks together. He was painfully hard, and he could feel Peter was too. He leaned him back a little and kissed his way down to his neck, sucking it into his mouth, laving it with his tongue. As Peter gave a loud moan, he vaguely started hearing people calling their names.

“Tony! Peter! Don’t make me get the hose! Enough!” That was Nat. And she really would get a hose. Slowly backing up to his own chair, he looked at Pete, who had collapsed back on to his chair, running his hands over his face.

“Wow. That was. Wow. Okay Tony, I can definitely see you earned your reputation as amazing in bed. Wow.” He couldn’t help preening a bit at that. Yeah, he was good, and he knew it.

“Okay Tony, enough peacocking, spin!” Pepper yelled at him.

Reaching down for his second spin, it landed on Natasha. Raising one eyebrow, she came to him before he could even leave his seat. She put her hands on either side of his head, leaned down, and proceeded to kiss him to within an inch of his sanity. When she backed up, he just stared after her, struck a bit stupid.

The game continued on from there. Nat kissing Pepper (va va voom!), Pepper kissing Rhodey, Rhodey kissing MJ, MJ kissing Flash, Flash kissing Steve (if he had to guess, that was the best moment of Flash’s life), then Steve landed on Tony.

Smirking, Tony shuffled over to Steve and proceeded to give him the hardest, most bruising kiss he could manage. As he backed away, he felt that Steve had actually gotten turned on from that. He did not want to think about what that meant for Steve and Bucky. As he got back to his set, Nat announced it was time to move on to the next game.

“We’re going to play a little game called ‘Never Have I Ever’. Everyone know how to play it?”

Everyone nodded but Bruce, who was shaking his head no.

“What? Do I look like the type of guy who spent my high school years going to parties?”

“Okay, I’ll explain quickly. It shouldn’t be bad for you anyway. We go around in a circle, each saying something we haven’t done. Then, whoever has done it, needs to take a drink. It’s usually a shot, but I really don’t want Tony to die.”

Everyone looked at Tony like they expected him to say something about that, and he shrugged, saying, “What? It’s a fair point.”

Everyone got their drinks, and went back to their seats.

“Okay, since Tony started last time, we’ll let someone else start this time. Let’s start with…Peter! He should ease us in slowly…” Nat tipped her glass at Peter, who got a smirk on his face as he turned to Tony.

“Never have I ever had a threesome with a Victoria's Secret model and her identical twin sister.”

Tony’s mouth dropped open as he went to reach for his drink. After taking a gulp, he looked at Peter. “How did you even know about that?”

“When you gave me majority share in SI, it came with access to everything. Including your personal journals. I wouldn’t have normally read them, but I was searching for anything that could help me get you back. None of them did, but now I have lots of blackmail material!”

“Oh, that’s low kid, real low!” Tony laughed. He remembered what was in his journals. The kid knew more about him than anyone else now, including Rhodey. And he still looked at him the same way, like he hung the moon. That was amazing, and he felt a little warmed by it.

“Okay,” Nat grinned before Tony could open his mouth to go next, “we’re going to go the other way around. MJ, you’re up next!”

Giving Tony an innocent look, that he immediately distrusted, MJ came out with, “Never have I ever been dusted.”

“Oooh, that’s low MJ!” Peter yelled as Tony took another drink. It continued in this vein, everyone asking questions to purposely make him drink, until it got back to him.

“Finally! Never have I ever been an enhanced person!” Ha! Got three of them with that!

Steve and Peter raised their glasses, tipping them towards each other before drinking, but Bruce did not. “Eh him. Bruce...gonna drink?”

“Huh? Me?”

“Yeah, you. Does a certain Hulk ring a bell?”

“Oh. Yeah. I didn’t think of that.”

The circle started again, thankfully with them all choosing not to gang up on him again. He still drank almost every time, don’t get him wrong, but that was just because of the life he had led, and he wasn’t alone anymore. It got back to MJ again, and she had a sly smile on her face. Uh oh. Here it comes…

“Never have I ever gotten caught in the library having sex with my engineering professor.”

Peter sputtered out, “I feel so called out!” as he raised his glass to drink. Tony could feel Rhodey’s gaze on him as he raised his glass also.

“You gotta admit though, MJ, Professor Dintova was hot!”

Tony spat his drink a bit, looking at Peter. “Professor Dintova from MIT?”

Finally realizing Tony was drinking too, Peter started laughing his ass off, cackling, “Oh my God, you too?”

Tony just nodded, shrugging his shoulders. “He was only 28 when I was in college. He must have been, what, pushing 60 when you were there?”

Peter smiled, while winking at Tony. “I like my men to be able to keep up with me intellectually. Why do you think Flash didn’t last?”

“Hey! Why you calling me out!?” Flash huffed, subtly moving closer to Steve, who just rolled his eyes and let him cuddle into his side.

They spent a few more rounds playing, with Tony and, surprisingly, Peter, needing new drinks more than once, that Natasha offered to go get for them. It seems Pete was not and innocent kid anymore. And it was kind of (really) turning Tony on. As everyone else was on their third drinks, and Tony and Peter on their sixth, Natasha called the game to a halt.

“Okay, now that we are all sufficiently inebriated, time for Truth or Dare! I go first this time!” With that, she spun her head to Tony, asking Truth or Dare.

Tag List

@stxrker-fan-xx @lokitonypeter

#starker #starker fic #peter x tony #tony x peter #au #ironspider #ten years later

23 notes · View notes

stardust-ghost · 5 years

Text

Overthinking | pt.2

Ask and you shall recieve~

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Part: 2/4

Warnings: Angst at the beginning

Summary: Peter Parker has been trying to tell you, his best friend, that he loves you for a while now, but is terrified of rejection. When he finally musters up the courage, things seem to get in his way.

A/N: This got a lot more attention than I thought it would, but you guys did ask for a part two and I have provided. Remember, I’m always trying to improve and I’m always accepting criticism.

Part 1 | Part 3

God Peter could never hate himself more than he did this night, curled around a pillow in bed. The silent tears had ceased a while ago, but the streaks they left coupled with the puffy eyes completed the heartbroken look he was sporting. He couldn’t even remember a Friday spent without you, let alone like this.

He regrets his decision. He should’ve told her. He should’ve told her then and there how he felt. That he would take her on a date. That he loved her. Peter shut his eyes tightly and sighed, trying to just stop thinking before his thoughts spiraled his mood further into the ground. Yet, he just couldn’t help it.

Why should he be surprised? Peter Parker was never the brave one. Spider-Man, maybe, but never Peter Parker. Peter Parker is always the kid who misses his chance. Peter Parker is the kid that doesn’t get the girl. Peter Parker is the kid who gets forgotten. So why should he be surprised?

Before he could delve deeper into the black hole his mind was creating for him, there was a knock at his bedroom door.

“What is it?” He called out shakily, worried that his voice would crack and he would expose himself before the person even opened the door.

“It’s just me Peter.” It was Aunt May. She got home earlier than usual. “Can I come in?” Peter couldn’t find the courage to respond, knowing that if he did he would give himself away. It didn’t really matter his answer though because as he predicted, May just let herself in, letting out a small gasp at his state. She quickly came to him to sit on the edge of his bed. “What’s wrong?”

Peter’s first thought was to deny everything and say he was fine. Blame the tears on a sad puppy video or something, but the way his Aunt looked at him just made him break down all over again.

“I messed up May. I really messed up.” He nearly choked on his words as new sobs wracked his body, a wave of heartache coursing through him. May immediately went into ‘parent mode’. She softly cooed a chorus of ‘it okay” and shushes as she gently ran her fingers through his hair, an action known in the past to calm him down.

“Peter I’m sure it’s not as bad as you think. Just calm down and tell me what happened.” Although his explanation was often interrupted by hiccups, sniffles, and small sobs, he told her the whole story. By the end of it, he calmed down enough to breathe normally and a shade of red crept up his neck when he realized how childish he must’ve seemed.

“I lost my chance, what am I gonna do?” May smiled softly at him.

“No, you didn’t Peter. Think about it, you’ve known her for years and every time you two are together there is this happy bright energy in the air, I’ve seen it myself. She probably doesn’t even know this boy that well. I think you should tell her. If she feels the same I don’t think one date with one random guy will make her forget about you. Who knows,” a soft smirk rose on her face, “maybe she was trying to make you jealous.” Peter let out a strained laugh at that. Wouldn’t that be ironic? As he mulled over the idea he found it to make a lot of sense and felt even more ridiculous. Nothing changed, he would be taking the same risk.

“Thank you.” He sat up to hug her tightly, relief washing through him. She shook her head and hugged him back.

“It’s my job.” She pulled him back at arm's length. “ Now how about you and me watch a movie or two since you’re missing a partner. You need a break from all that thinking.”

Later that same night he was lying in bed, actually on the brink of sleep instead of wide awake and stuck in his thoughts when he heard a soft tapping noise. His eyes shot open as he glanced around the room. At first, he thought he imagined it in his tired state, but there it was again.

He reluctantly got up and took another look around, noticing someone outside his window, nearly jumping out of his skin. Peter calmed down the next moment though when he recognized the figure on his fire escape. The one girl he was trying so desperately not to think about, yet he didn’t hesitate in letting you in.

“Y/N?” He asked groggily, wiping the tiredness out of his eyes. “What are you doing here so late?” You gave him a strange look.

“It’s 9:45.”

“Oh.” He hadn’t realized just how early he had crawled into bed. Peter opened his mouth, ready to make a joke to hide his embarrassment when he finally took in your appearance. A pretty, but casual navy blue dress and some flats, but the most notable part of the look was your tear-filled eyes. “Oh gosh, what happened Y/N?” He got this sinking feeling in his stomach and he pulled you to sit down on his bed. He thought it was sadness or guilt, but as he pushed away strands of hair sticking to your wet cheeks, he realized it was anger.

You almost never cried at anything except sad romance movies, so whatever, or more accurately, whoever, put you in this state was going to have to face Peter Parker very soon. But all those resentful thoughts were quickly tucked away when you started to stutter out your response.

“S-so I showed up ten minutes early because I would rather be there before him, I was sort of expecting to wait for a-a w-while. After thirty minutes, I thought y’know.” You sniffled through your words and used hand gestures to explain. “Maybe he’s just running late, right? So I kept waiting. H-he said h-he would be there by 6, so by 7:30 I just feel like an idiot, but nevertheless, I held out some hope. M-maybe something came up, th-that’s possible, but I got pretty hungry and since I didn’t know when he w-was going to sh-show up, I just ordered my food. I waited until nine o’clock Peter. Nine! A-and then I didn’t know what to do so I came here.” Peter found it particularly hard to follow along with your story through the fast-paced rambling and the sniffles, but he got the gist.

“He just... stood you up?” He felt a pang in his heart, but this time it wasn’t for himself, it was for you. How could someone ditch someone as pretty and as kind as you?

“Yeah. He did.” Your voice got significantly softer compared to your hurt rant. Peter did the thing he did best. He held you.

“I’m so sorry Y/N.”

“It’s not your fault, I just wish I hadn’t skipped out on our Friday.” You let out a bitter laugh. “Much rather be here with you than at a restaurant by myself.” Peter watched as your eyes cast down into your lap. “Is there something wrong with me?” His face turned into one of shock. Did you actually just ask him that?

“What?” His words came out so soft that if they hadn’t been sitting so close, you probably wouldn’t have heard it.

“I mean,” new tears welled up in your eyes to replace the old ones, “almost three years of high school and people are barely interested in being my friend, let alone date me. And the one guy who asks me out ditched me before I can actually give him a reason to. There has to be something wrong with me.” The vulnerability in your voice made him want to cry as well. “What is it, Peter? Is it how I look?” He quickly shook his head. He would never in a million years guess that you felt this way about yourself, especially when he thinks so highly of you. He didn’t know what to say, but he has to say something.

“There is absolutely nothing wrong with you Y/N. You’re the most beautiful girl I know. And the smartest. And the nicest. Any guy that has you is the luckiest guy I know. If someone like Damien can’t see that, then quite honestly, he doesn’t deserve someone as great as you. I know that this must sound cheesy and right out of a movie cliche, but that is actually what I think.” The small smile you gave paired with a slight scoff had his heart melting.

“Do you... Do you mean that?”

“Yeah.” At that you let your head fall to his chest and he lowered you both to lay down on his bed as he gently pets your hair.

He had an opportunity to tell you but held his tongue. Now wasn’t the time, he needed to be there for you right now and if you didn’t feel the same, you might not want his shoulder to cry on.

A/N: Again, this is an imagine from my other account, I am not stealing it.

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #marvel #mcu #avengers #spider-man: homecoming #spiderman #spiderman x reader #tom holland #tom holland x reader #imagine #headcanon #x reader #reader insert

27 notes · View notes

flashex3410 · 6 years

Text

prompts, i guess

as composed by @dazednerd and myself

1. I took you to the zoo as our first date but you’ve been staring at the monkeys for the last hour, can we move on?

2. I found this stray cat but now you’re on my doorstep asking for them back, who even are you.

3. My sister thinks you’re cute and wants me to bring you over here but I also kinda think you’re cute as well and oh wait you’re flirting with me instead of her now.

4. You just yelled “hit or miss” at the top of your lungs in a crowded area and I was the only one who responded.

5. I was just chilling in the park, and I have no idea who you are but you just asked me to come with you to your family reunion to pretend to be your gay lover to piss off your folks, let’s do this.

6. There’s an apartment in my building that’s supposedly haunted but the truth is I’m a social recluse and people haven’t realized I live here, don’t tell them.

7. I’m grocery shopping at 2AM and you’re in the next aisle over singing very passionately to the song coming through the intercom.

8. My ex just started making out with someone in order to piss me off and- oh hey what’re you doing- oh.

9. I just complimented your shirt and you launched into a full rant on how you’re so happy there are other fans out there.

10. “You look depressed, you wanna hug bro?”

11. I got stood up on a date to the carnival but I already paid to get in and- oh hey there, stranger.

12. “I have seven kids” “You’ve been a single man your whole life?” “And?”

13. It’s 1AM and I’m studying for finals and you’re my roommate’s friend who just crawled through my window.

14. “Do you often take care of high people you find on the streets?”

15. I just punched you in the face and you’re flirting with me?

16. My roommate’s a Youtuber and I walked in on them making a video about me.

17. Seven people walked into the building that night. Only two came back.

18. “I swear to God, man, there’s someone in here crying.”

19. Two people were found hanging from the balcony. Their hands had been tied together.

20. “I’m a demon. I have more power than most Gods can even begin to muster. And you called me to make you a sandwich?”

21. Person A and Person B have been friends since childhood. A has a big secret that B eventually finds out about, but the two continue to be friends and don’t acknowledge it. After some awkward moments, B confronts A. A could either 1. Confess to it (and maybe some other things, if that’s what the writer wants) or 2. Get defensive about it, and eventually put distance between them and B.

22. “I’ve been going through your room, since, you know… Well, I found a bunch of old stuff I completely forgot we had. Photos, stories, that old hoodie I was going to get rid of that you kept. You never quite got over us, huh? ...I miss you.”

23. I can hear you in the hotel room above me. You sound like you’re dying, are you alright?

24. You keep asking if you can paint me, but I look like a cracked out animal what tf are you seeing?

25. You’re a street musician who plays outside my office window, and I constantly find myself stopping to listen in.

26. “Meet me in the spider house.”

27. I just saved someone from drowning, but I can’t bring myself to tell them that I personally know you, the siren that just tried to kill them,

28. “Your socks are mismatched.”

29. “Why are you still here…?”

30. I just opened your closet and seen all your gay stuff shoved in there. I guess that explains the useless nails in your walls. You wanna talk about it?

31. “Are you a boat? Because I ship us.”

32. “You… You adopted a hedgehog?”

33. You just called me to tell me that you found an injured hellhound on the side of the road. Wait, what the hell do you mean you’re keeping it?!

34. I’m tied between making out with you and slamming your head into a table.

35. “What do you mean, you’re a demon?!”

36. I summoned a demon with a funny accent at 4 AM and I’m tied between laughing my ass off and being terrified.

37. “I’d rather be dead then be near you” (Bonus points if the person who says this has a mental breakdown in front of the person this quote is directed at)

38. You’re a stranger who’s drunk as hell, and you fell asleep on me on the bus.

39. My friend’s sick af, no I’m not letting them give up their seat for your entitled self and your totally healthy child. (could be taken as romantic or platonic)

40. Threatening your significant other in between kisses.

41. “You’re really soft…” Proceeds to fall asleep

42. The days we don’t fight are the best.

43. There was always something wrong with that house, as the neighbors said. Being the local cop, you had been in the house multiple times to drag out groups of teens. Today, a man reported seeing three teens go in about an hour ago. You easily managed each of them. Two of them were willing to leave, while the third tried constantly to escape your grasp. You pull them away from your friends, but before you can say anything, they begin crying. “Those aren’t them. My friends are still in there. I don’t know who those two are.”

44. Everyone has told me that you’re usually angry and intimidating, so I was scared upon meeting you. But now you’re saying you wanna cuddle me, and honestly, I’ve never been able to say no.

45. “You wanna go on a Tim Burton binge with me?”

46. “Your taste in music is so weird… I like it.”

47. I walked in on you crying and tugging at your hair.

48. “Your heart needn’t break further, love.”

49. We both have finals coming up, but you’re practically begging me to come with you to this concert.

50. “I’m in love with you. Deeply in love, and I feel like I’m drowning.”

50 and a half. (This one’s more of a bonus, but “Nothing’s gonna hurt you baby” by Cigarettes after Sex is such a good song, and it’s good for writing material. Also, if you’re a fantasy geek, then “Bloom” by the Paper Kites is also p good for writing)

(note: if y’all use any of these, could ya please tag me in ‘em? i wanna see what y’all do with these)

#writing prompts #dialogue prompt #prompts #otp prompts #romantic or platonic

67 notes · View notes

soveryanon · 5 years

Text

Reviewing time for MAG147 X_X/

- We already knew that Annabelle was interested in stories – she was “the Story Spinner” in MAG123, had Gregory Cox instal a website to fish out what were basically statements. And her statement in itself feels a bit like a… crafted story, in-universe? It’s explicitly addressed to Jon, meant to be read by Jon, and it contained so many details reminiscent of Jon’s own infancy: both lived near the sea (Hunstanton/Bournemouth); both were raised by a female figure who didn’t hide her resentment (Annabelle’s mother for having to take care of a large family, Jon’s grandmother for having to take care of her son’s son); Annabelle tried to run away and Jon used to “explore” too far to the point of being brought back by the police; Annabelle left her home with a book (Five Go Down to the Sea) while Jon had been led outside by one (A Guest for Mr. Spider); both encountered The Web as kids and were presumably led to fit in Her scheme later on in their lives as young adults… but with enough nuances and straight-out differences (Annabelle coming from a large family while Jon was a single child without a close family, etc.) to clearly set them apart. This passage, especially, felt especially Dedicated To Jon?

(MAG147, Annabelle Cane) “The air was warm and humid as I snuck out of the house, filled with that slight smell of salt that even now… changed as I am… I still sometimes find myself missing here, in the grimy air of London.”

And what to think of the ~coincidence~ of Annabelle, future Web avatar, growing up in a family of eight children, having a distant mother – while her present Patron is referred as Mother-of-Puppets? Was it a genuine story, or a hybrid creation crafted from various other stories with threads interwoven to form other patterns? Annabelle herself raised the possibility, in a terrifying way (“Or perhaps I am simply telling you what you need to hear, in order to behave exactly as the Mother wishes you to. [STATIC, GRADUALLY INCREASING] Perhaps… I have never even seen a beach.”), and, indeed. Annabelle could be unreliable – we know that statement-givers can conceal information if they want:

(MAG121) OLIVER: And about two years before I came to your Institute, something happened – something I didn’t want to talk about. Didn’t even want to think about. I… [SIGH] I started to see them when I was awake. […] Even when I went to your Institute, tried to warn her, I could see them crawling through the corridors towards the Archives.

(“Lying” is a different matter – can you write a lie when making a statement, or would it work as long as you think/are convinced that an event took place a certain way? We’ve had an example, with MAG015, of events being objectively different from the way the statement-giver described them (“Take her, not me”). But with Annabelle… yeah, absolutely no idea if we’re to take what she said at face-value or not.)

And interestingly, I… don’t feel like we learned anything at all about Annabelle Cane’s actions or history: because she didn’t cover at all the parts of her avatar life that we had heard of. She barely scratched the surface of her transformation, with enough doubt to wonder if she had been led there or if it was a coincidence (something she highlighted, as she said that her experience as a kid “is what engendered in me that terror of spiders which eventually led to my volunteering at Surrey University” but it had been stated in MAG069 that… she hadn’t been told that the experiment was about arachnophobia), didn’t say a word about Neil Lagorio, nor what she was planning with the website in 2015. We only know that she has plans. She is. Terrifying.

- What she said about:

(MAG147, Annabelle Cane) “The Mother is the fear of manipulation and lost control made manifest. So perhaps it is our fear that projects Her influence on everything that happens. Like the mind, retrospectively assigning reason to our actions, so we fit whatever occurs into the neatest pattern we can, and declare Her web both intricate… and complete.”

indeed fits a LOT with the pattern we have seen of avatars reminiscing on the events that led them to their current life. Jude had insisted on her “burn-out”; Mike rationalised that he had always been a bit fascinated by falling, hence going for The Vast; Oliver described it precisely too:

(MAG121) OLIVER: I still remember the first time I tried to touch one. In my dreams, the night before, I had found my way back to my own street. I don’t know why I did it. I knew it was a stupid thing to do, walking past my own home in a dream, but I just– … Maybe I wanted it this way, I mean… when I stepped out the building that morning, I… didn’t turn towards the bus stop like I always do. I turned right instead, walked over to the little alleyway where I knew, some time in the next week, a young woman was… going to have a fatal aneurysm. […] So, I did some digging. Found the identity of a few crew members and started to track them down. I told myself that I didn’t know what I was looking for, but I did. Of course I did. […] I had never felt anything as cold as those veins. It was so… hm, patient. It… made me think of those winter mornings, when I was a kid, with no snow; just… frost and frozen mist over everything. Keeping the world in place, curling you up into yourself and… quietly waiting for you to lose your footing, to slip up and fall. Snap.

Annabelle herself insisted on the idea of control and manipulation when she was a kid, and Jon… Jon had insisted on the curiosity for novelty and on seeing. But if he had been touched, let’s say, by The Lonely, would he have retroactively described his exact same childhood as one of isolation, without any meaningful connection…?

- … I feel so stupid to have just assumed, all this time, that somehow, all Web avatars had to be interconnected to their patron, aware of the Big Plans? Because it was The Web and duh? But nop, apparently, Annabelle doesn’t know about The Web’s intentions (… if it has any “intention”, as Gertrude had questioned MAG145) – she could be lying but. Not Knowing What Your Patron Wants Of You seems to be a recurring thing in season 4, Jon had lamented about it in MAG145 too (which. was. worrisome.).

But Annabelle has her own plans, at the very least, and they apparently involve Jon:

(MAG147, Annabelle Cane) “I’m afraid I don’t actually have these answers for you; I’ve simply been… watching. I’m sure you understand that. Maybe I’ve occasionally been nudging something here and there to keep you safe, to keep everything on track.”

… which does NOT make her an ally, what the flying fuck JON:

(MAG147) ARCHIVIST: So, she is… watching the Institute. Interfering with things. … [HUFF] Is that reassuring, or… really, really bad…? I can’t say I’m… [HUFF] I can’t say I’m sad to have another ally allegedly on our side, but I don’t like the idea of being important to The Web. … That’s a really bad place to be…

(Especially since he had mentioned he was… ready to get into danger or to die if it means saving someone – Annabelle’s comment seems to give credit to the idea that she was the one who sent Martin to put the tapes around the coffin to get Jon back? So if she needs Jon alive, and especially given the current situation… that’s Bad, actually…?)

(- I’m… astonished that Jon didn’t get into a paranoia fit about The Web’s ritual, then? Since he has no information whatsoever about it, and had been researching about rituals until then. The Web making a move should make him think of the possibility…? Unless he has already accessed a few of Martin’s tapes? Unless he “knows” the content of the recording? (… But given that Annabelle and The Web are not the same thing, I do wonder if it’s not possible to have an avatar trying to bring its patron’s ritual to completion despite said patron not being overly interested in theory…? We’ve had the reverse case, with Jared refusing to participate in The Last Feast, after all…))

(- So, that “nudging”: it strengthens the idea that she was indeed the one who sent Martin helping Jon to get out of the coffin?

(MAG134) PETER: What does puzzle me, though, and I mean that genuinely, is… why you were piling tape recorders onto the coffin, while Jon was in there. [PAUSE] It’s a question, Martin, it’s– it’s not an accusation. MARTIN: I don’t know. And I just… felt like it might help. He’s always recording, I thought… it–it might help him… find his way out. PETER: Interesting. Were you compelled? MARTIN: [SULLEN] … I don’t know. … M–maybe? I–I, I definitely wanted to do it… PETER: But? MARTIN: I’m… I’m not sure where the idea came from. PETER: You should watch out for that. Could be something dangerous. MARTIN: Sure.

(MAG135) ELIAS: I needed a way to force him to harness his ability more acutely than he had before. The coffin was a useful tool; Daisy an adequate bait. BASIRA: Then you messed up. Way he tells it, he doesn’t know how he got out of there. ELIAS: But he did. And his powers were no small part of it. Even if he required some assistance, they were what saved him. And he’s still achieved what no one – mortal, monster, or anything in-between – has ever been able to. He climbed out of The Buried.

1°) Peter Doesn’t Like It

2°) Elias Absolutely Doesn’t Mind It

Elias, that’s the 100th time this season, but what DO YOU KNOW about the spiders in your Institute…)

(- There were so many mentions of watching/seeing in Annabelle’s statement, and she did acknowledge Jon’s confusion over what is coming from The Eye and what could come from The Web… so there is still That Thing again. With the confirmation that Smirke had been extremely arbitrary and couldn’t stand to acknowledge the possibility that he might have been wrong in his “architecture”, it seems that “An infinite amorphous blob of terror bleeding out in every direction at once.” still remains The Most Accurate description of the Fears.)

- That… was such a powerful move…

(MAG147) ARCHIVIST: … You hear that? BASIRA: No, I, I don’t hear– ARCHIVIST: Shh, shh! MELANIE: Yes. Room on the left…! ARCHIVIST’S RECORDED VOICE FROM MAG001: “an organisation dedicated to–” DAISY: Is that…? ARCHIVIST: Yes…. ARCHIVIST’S RECORDED VOICE FROM MAG001: “–academic research into the esoteric, and the paranormal.” BASIRA: Don’t touch it. ARCHIVIST’S RECORDED VOICE FROM MAG001: “The head of the Institute–” ARCHIVIST: No. ARCHIVIST’S RECORDED VOICE FROM MAG001: “–Mr Elias Bouchard–” ARCHIVIST: It’s alright. [BREATHING DEEPER] [FOOTSTEPS] ARCHIVIST’S RECORDED VOICE FROM MAG001: “–has employed me to replace the previous Head Archivist, one Gertrude Robinson, who has recently passed away.” ARCHIVIST: [EXHALE] [THE TAPE IS STOPPED.] DAISY: Something underneath it. ARCHIVIST: I see it. Uh, hand me that brush? [RUFFLING SOUND] BASIRA: Is… that what I think it is? ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] Yeah. [RUSTLING PAPER] Official Institute paper, and everything. BASIRA: Goddamnit…! ARCHIVIST: “Statement of Annabelle Cane.” … She left it for us.

1°) She knew that the assistants were going to The Web’s stronghold for the first time, and she left things that had been taken out from the Institute, The Eye’s stronghold as messages. Meaning she has indeed full access to the Institute and the Archives.

2°) Leaving. A statement. As a gift. Nobody had asked and she left it.

3°) MAG001’s tape, meaning Jon’s whole debut as an unwilling servant of The Eye, potentially meaning that she had been watching all along…

4°) Throwing us into the past, too: because it was the old Jon, pretending he didn’t believe in the supernatural – the Jon who hid and dissimulated (just like he did again with the people he attacked for their statements)… because he was afraid, because he thought that acknowledging them would mean catching their attention. We get to hear this Jon, again, and it’s such. A blow. And a reminder that Jon has been doing that again lately.

(5°) … and they arrived just when Elias was mentioned on the tape, so *squints* Is it because it was just the beginning of the tape, or an invitation to go request Explanations&Answers from that fucker.)

- Same, HHHH that power move of beginning the statement with

(MAG147, Annabelle Cane) ““Free will” is a funny old thing – isn’t it, Jon? Can I call you Jon? I’m going to call you Jon.”

… when she revealed a few lines later that she perfectly knew that Jon couldn’t stop reading. So he couldn’t answer anyway because it was an indirect message, but he was forced to read the question and Annabelle’s unilateral decision without being able to agree or protest anyway, and she perfectly knew it. Hhhhh.

(Also, the question was reminiscent of Nikola’s own “Can I call you Elias?” during Jon’s kidnapping&sequestration, and ahahaha, that. Might have been even more triggery for Jon, uh.)

(Aaaand both Oliver, agent of Death, and Annabelle, agent of Web, jumped to a first-name basis with Jon while he was in no position to allow or refuse them – in a “coma” with Oliver, and under compulsion-to-read with Annabelle.

(MAG121) OLIVER: Hum… Hello, Jon. Do you… m–mind if I call you Jon? I… I mean. You don’t actually know me, it’s just… well. “Archivist”, it’s so… formal, isn’t it? And I do kind of know you…? […] The thing is, Jon, right now, you have a choice.

Annabelle and Oliver are definitely kinda-friends, uh.)

(- And the voiceswitch was ABSOLUTELY DELIGHTFUL. Terrifying and wow. Jon felt like someone else, even more than usual.)

- Obligatory squintsquintsquint because:

(MAG147, Annabelle Cane) “I discovered a deep and enduring talent inside myself… for lying. My manipulations were not intricate – but they were far beyond what was expected of a child my age, and I have always believed that the key to controlling people… is to ensure that they always under, or overestimate you. Never reveal your true abilities or plans.”

………… is kinda reminiscent of Martin:

(MAG117) MARTIN: These last couple of years, I’ve always been... running, always hiding, caught in someone else’s trap, but… but now it’s my trap. And, well. I think it will work. I know, I know it’s not exactly intricate, but… it felt good, weaving my own little web. OH, oh Christ, I hope Jon doesn’t actually listen to these. “Good lord, is Martin becoming some sort of spider person?” No, Jon, it’s an expression, chill out. Besides, spiders are fine. I mean, yes, people are scared of them, obviously, but actual spiders, they just… want to help you out with flies!

(And Elias had described his own ability as “weaving” too. And Jon did wonder, in MAG145, if he wasn’t mostly just plainly good at bullshitting. If there are two people we tend to over/under-estimate, it would be Elias and Martin, who both “love manipulating people!”…)

- Obligatory laugh that:

(MAG147, Annabelle Cane) “With any other animal, we talk about “instinct”, we talk about “training”, perhaps if we have spent enough time with them… we talk about “personality”. But we never talk about choice. We never look at a dog racing wildly after a thrown ball and think “What an odd decision that dog has made!”. We talk about the workings of its mind, and its instincts; if it doesn’t chase the ball, we wonder why: is it sick? Is it tired? Perhaps something in the nature of this particular breed, this particular dog, makes it prone to ignoring a game of fetch. The idea of a dog simply… choosing not to chase feels deeply unnatural. Is it even capable of legitimately making a decision? Some would say no.”

Hey, Annabelle. You don’t know cats, uh. And you’re talking to a cat-lover. (Well. A love of The Admiral, at the very least. Who had decided it was time for belly rubs before electing to go on with his day, back in MAG093, in typical cat behaviour.)

- Constant soft static while they were at Hill Top Road, so there is definitely Something Wrong with the place. (However, there was none when Jon read the statement, so did they stop at an inn, or where they back at the Institute already?)

Ivo Lensik had given his statement about Hill Top Road in March 2007, and Jon had mentioned in his follow-up that:

(MAG008) ARCHIVIST: Two families have lived in the house since this statement was originally made but no further manifestations have been reported on Hill Top Road.

Plus, there was Anya Villette’s statement from April 2014 (MAG114), which mentioned:

(MAG114, Anya Villette) “The owners of the house had already filled it with furniture. Not good furniture, of course: just the cheapest IKEA had that wouldn’t collapse under the weight of a textbook. It was all assembled, though […]. It opened to reveal stairs going down into a basement. Nobody had mentioned a basement. Not when they gave me the job, not on the floor plan they’d given me; I’d had absolutely no idea it was there.”

(Anya also mentioned “thick sheets of white plastic, to try and keep the dust off” over the furniture and the fact that she had woken up “in one of the chairs, the dust cover clinging to me like a cocoon”: it sounds a lot like spider web, but she had been able to identify cobwebs as such when trying to reach the basement. So? Is it because The Web’s presence was stronger down there…? Her confusion about things still sounds like textbook Spiral to me, though we learned, since then, that there is the “scar in reality” so… what the heck was happening with Anya.)

By contrast:

(MAG147) MELANIE: When did you say they finished rebuilding? ARCHIVIST: 2008? MELANIE: Hm! ARCHIVIST: Doesn’t look like anyone ever… moved in, though. BASIRA: So this is… ten years of cobwebs? DAISY: More than that. [FOOTSTEPS.] MELANIE: [INHALE] No, I’m sure this is just the normal number of webs that grow up organically…! […] DAISY: Clear. [SHUT THE DOOR.] Looks like nothing downstairs. BASIRA: You wanna… take a moment, before we head up? ARCHIVIST: What about the basement? DAISY: Can’t see one. ARCHIVIST: Huh… DAISY: You want me to take point? ARCHIVIST: Uh… no – no, I’ve, I’ve got it.

So there are Too Many Cobwebs, it looks unoccupied although there used to be furniture, and we still (don’t) have a Schrödinger basement. GREAT.

(And bonus: Annabelle doesn’t want Jon to go there again – or at least, for now.)

- Jon The Tired Young Old Man is back, once again, and it’s been His Season To Shine:

(MAG123) ARCHIVIST: Everything’s changed. … [SIGH] Two days out of a coma, and I’m already tired.

(MAG128) ARCHIVIST: [WEAKLY] Statement… ends. [COLLAPSES] [CLICK.]

(MAG131) MELANIE: You’re going now? ARCHIVIST: [NERVOUS BREATHLESS LAUGHTER] [HISS OF PAIN] No. … No, now, I am going for a lay down. That was… that was not what I’d expected. MELANIE: Come on. You can use Basira’s cot.

(MAG137) ARCHIVIST: Everyone else is… running towards something, or running away, and I… [SIGH] I don’t know what I’m doing. [PAUSE] [SIGH] I’m just tired. Think I might go lie down for a while. Get a cup of tea [HUFF]

(MAG140) BASIRA: You look awful. You tried drinking with Daisy again last night? […] ARCHIVIST: [SLURRING] It’s not a hangover. Well, not… [INHALE] I wasn’t drinking. [SIGH] […] Yesterday, I tried something I… [INHALE] I–I deliberately tried to… Know something, like I did in the coffin, but… there was a lot. Too much [SIGH], and I… […] You drink the whole contents of a bar in three seconds, you don’t remember what the merlot tasted like. [SIGH] It just… hurt.

(MAG145) ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] … We’ve been back in London for just over a week, now. I’m… more or less recovered physically. It’s just this nagging sense of unease that won’t leave me.

(MAG147) BASIRA: Jon, focus. Are you getting any “sense” of anything? Can you… “see” anything? ARCHIVIST: No, I’m just… seeing what you’re seeing. Still a bit… weak from my trip North, to be honest. MELANIE: Sorry we couldn’t stop for a snack…! [SHARED SNORTS.] ARCHIVIST: [SIGH]

(MAG147) ARCHIVIST: This one really took it out of me. [CLEARER] I need to go lie down…! … E–end recording. [CLICK.]

………………………… except that, given His Pattern, and the mention that he hadn’t absolutely recovered from the Dark trip……………….. it probably means he “needs” a new victim to get fully rested. I. Really. Hope. That the girls will keep a close eye on him, uh…

- The Dasira shines… in small but significant ways… and how they like to throw jokes around Jon in tense situations…

(MAG143) BASIRA: [SIGH] Eyes peeled. [SILENCE] ARCHIVIST: … Was that a joke? BASIRA: Yeah.

(MAG147) BASIRA: So, where are all the spiders? MELANIE: Ah– I mean, they, they hide. You know, it’s a thing they do, spiders – they hide. DAISY: Perhaps they… bugged out. [FOOTSTEPS.] ARCHIVIST: [WHISPERS] … Was that a joke? BASIRA: Jon, focus.

(Not “bugs” technically, Daisy – Martin would be Offended about it!) I love how both Basira&Daisy are unapologetic about it, how it always takes Jon a moment to realise what Was Just Said, how he used the same tone to ask-what-he-already-knows (this is why people like Melanie like to say you don’t have a sense of humour, Jon.), and how… Basira was the one to demand he go back on track in the last one, instead of Daisy.

- My heart cried a bit about the girls throwing jokes because… yeah, it’s how Team Archives tends to deal with dire situations – and it was… really reminiscent of The Unknowing expedition, with TIM’S JOKES ABOUT THE WAXWORKS orz

(MAG118) TIM: And anyways, it’s not like we're alone in here. Look. There’s Prince Charles. [GROANING] TIM: Oh, if he’d been in an accident. Or the Beatles! If they’d all been in separate accidents, like, like Ringo was in a horrible fire, or Paul was in a car crash, that’s a classic– ARCHIVIST: Yes, Tim. I remember them. The waxworks are… bad. […] BASIRA: So would you say this was supposed to be Churchill or Alfred Hitchcock? ARCHIVIST: Jowls like that, could be either.

(MAG147) ARCHIVIST: No, I’m just… seeing what you’re seeing. Still a bit… weak from my trip North, to be honest. MELANIE: Sorry we couldn’t stop for a snack…! [SHARED SNORTS.] ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] […] BASIRA: These flares going to work? DAISY: No idea, but… Jon said The Web doesn’t get on great with fire, and we don’t exactly have a flamethrower, so… BASIRA: I mean, at least until we find the one Gertrude stocked [?? unintelligible, Daisy snorting too hard]. DAISY: [SNORT] BASIRA: Right next to the nukes…! […] ARCHIVIST: Well… [SIGH] We’re here now. Might as well push on. MELANIE: … Famous last words. [HUMOROUS EXHALES.]

It’s the same team, minus Tim, plus Melanie…

(Also, the reminder that Gertrude was all about fireweapons… Elias had taunted Leitner about “arson”, and he was positively seething when Martin had begun to burn statements, soooo… really, was Gertrude’s plan to deal with The Eye to burn down the Institute.)

- I’m sad that Melanie doesn’t get a nickname…

(MAG146) DAISY: [SIGH] Come on, Mel. I’ll see if I’ve got a stab vest in your size. MELANIE: … Yeah. Sure.

(MAG147) DAISY: Here, Mel. MELANIE: What even are these? DAISY: Magnesium flares. Technically not legal anymore; if you need more, just shout. MELANIE: Oh? Hum. Fine. [INHALE] Uh, and… and, please, don’t… call me “Mel”. DAISY: What? Since when? MELANIE: Always. I’m… [SIGH] trying to be more… o–open about this… stuff. DAISY: Roger Wilco, Miss King. MELANIE: Mm! Better.

… but I’m SO glad that:

1°) she has trouble, but clearly expressed that she didn’t like it. Worded her discomfort. Tried to fix something that was bothering her and directly impacting her. It’s hard, but she’s doing it.

2°) I’m so glad that Daisy immediately corrected herself, acknowledged it and didn’t even ask for a reason why Melanie didn’t like it. Melanie doesn’t like it, end of story, no fuss.

So no nickname for Melanie, but Daisy and Melanie sound even closer and good together!! ;w;

- Overall, GUUUUH, I’m. So proud of Melanie??? She’s been doing so much better!

(MAG123) BASIRA: Yeah. I did warn you. She’s not, uh… she’s not been having a good time. ARCHIVIST: Mm! Yeah, I did get that impression. [SIGH] Elias is gone. I thought… I mean, wasn’t that supposed to be… it? But she’s still… BASIRA: It’s not that simple. ARCHIVIST: She needs help, Basira. God, it didn’t even get that bad when I was… … Even Tim never threatened me. Not like that.

(MAG125) BASIRA: Oh, yeah, the stuff she takes is pretty strong these days. She should be out for a while. … What? Sleep is hard.

(MAG127) ARCHIVIST: Do–do you think it worked? Is she… BASIRA: I don’t know. She seems more… coherent, I guess. And you did get an apology. ARCHIVIST: Yeah. BASIRA: She said she can cry now, which is, hum… ARCHIVIST: Oh… BASIRA: Progress, I think? ARCHIVIST: Uh… BASIRA: She’s still angry but, she hasn’t attacked anyone. Not even sure she has it in her anymore. ARCHIVIST: Well that’s, that’s good! BASIRA: Hm.

(MAG131) ARCHIVIST: A–at least, it’s out! … Maybe… maybe it’s enough to start healing, start… letting go of the anger. MELANIE: Oh, just stop! Just stop and– listen. ARCHIVIST: Okay. MELANIE: Yes, the, the bullet was bad, right. But it didn’t make me angry. Anger is… Anger’s been all I’ve had for a long time. Years. Maybe since– oh, I, I don’t know, but…! Everything I’ve done, everything I’ve pushed for, was because I was angry! Angry of being past over, being disrespected, ignored… that sort of anger, it, it powers you! … Right until it slips out, and hurts someone. I – hurt someone. And then, one day, I suddenly have this thing that takes all that rage, and it holds it. Tells me it’s right. That it’s me. It didn’t stay in my leg because of some Ghostly Masterplan; it stayed… because I wanted it. ARCHIVIST: … Shit. MELANIE: Yes.

(MAG136) ARCHIVIST: If you don’t mind me asking, [STATIC:] where are you off to…? MELANIE: Therapy. [STATIC ENDS] … Wait. ARCHIVIST: Oh…! Oh, God, Melanie, I’m, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, uh… MELANIE: [EXASPERATED SIGH] It’s fine. I would probably have told you eventually, anyway. ARCHIVIST: Even so, I shouldn’t have– MELANIE: Just… forget it. [SILENCE] ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] It’s good, though. I–I’m glad you’re getting help. MELANIE: Yes, well. We’ll see. There’s a… a lot of crap therapists out there. ARCHIVIST: I guess. Still, it–it is a good step. MELANIE: I suppose. ARCHIVIST: You want to tell them the truth? MELANIE: I don’t know! It’s all a bit… [SIGH] Y’know? Er… C… can we drop it. ARCHIVIST: Of course.

(MAG139) ARCHIVIST: The others are doing… better, I think. Basira’s busy doing research for something secretive, unsurprisingly. But she seems to be adjusting to, uh… the new Daisy. I actually like Daisy now, which is a… really weird feeling. [INHALE] Melanie’s quiet, but I think therapy’s helping.

(MAG145) ARCHIVIST: Oh, uh, therapy! You’re taking her to therapy! GEORGIE: She… told you, then? ARCHIVIST: Uh, yes. Yeah. GEORGIE: … Well, you don’t need to sound quite so psyched about it. She gets… nervous travelling there alone.

(Compare this with Elias’s:

(MAG127) ELIAS: I believe you’ve recently lost Melanie. BASIRA: … We saved Melanie. ELIAS: As a person, yes, but as a defender…

… go rot in jail, Elias. OH WAIT–) (It’s been almost a year for him, I hope it’s getting long and he’s feeling very bored.)

Still unsure whether Melanie’s therapist is Bad News (… even more concerning: I found Jon’s narration of Annabelle’s statement very close to the therapist’s own jumpiness), but… the therapy in itself seems to be working? She’s learning little tricks to improve her life and remain in control and calm? She is expressing boundaries? It’s good? Melanie!!!

- I’mmmmm a bit interrogative about the comment she made about Jon’s ~compulsion~ to read statement right away:

(MAG147, Annabelle Cane) “Of course, that’s not the real crux of the free will question that’s… bothering you at the moment, is it? I think that one probably comes down to whether or not you’re choosing to continue reading this statement out loud. You didn’t mean to, did you? No, I’m sure you told Basira and Melanie that you were going to glance over it and report back. Perhaps they asked you if you were going to record, and you shook your head – “Maybe later”. That sounds like the sort of thing you’d say. But think about it, Jon: when’s the last time you were able to read a statement quietly to yourself without instinctively hitting record and speaking it aloud? It is just instinct? Habit? Or is it a compulsion – a string pulled by the Ceaseless Watcher or the Mother of Puppets? Or both? I know the summaries have started to confuse you. Where did they come from, when you read a statement fresh? How do you just… sort of know what it’s about, before you even start to read it…? But by then, you’re away: the roller coaster is dropping and you’ve no real choice but to hold on and hope that… I don’t crash you.”

Alright, for the summaries, I… had been wondering about it. And we indeed got a demonstration with live-statements that Jon knew the subject and a few key elements even before beginning to hear the story – and alright, it might be how he knew what the tape was about in MAG146, although there couldn’t have been no name written on it (since Martin didn’t know Jess’s name and Jon is the one who reveals it):

(MAG141) ARCHIVIST: [INTERESTEDLY] You… FLOYD: Uh…? BASIRA: Jon? ARCHIVIST: You used to work for Salesa… FLOYD: W–what, you… Who did? I don’t know what you’re talking about. ARCHIVIST: Mikaele Salesa. You used to work on his ship. FLOYD: … I don’t know you. ARCHIVIST: [ARCHLY] But I know you. BASIRA: Jon…? ARCHIVIST: Floyd Matharu. Served on the Dorian from 2011 to 2014. With Salesa. BASIRA: Jon, I’m not sure about this. ARCHIVIST: I am. Tell me what happened. [STATIC INCREASES] FLOYD: W–what…? What is this? ARCHIVIST: Whenever you’re ready. FLOYD: A–a–alright. [STATIC DECREASES] … Sure… [SILENCE] He… he–he w–was a good boss, you know?

(MAG146) BASIRA: Martin left a tape for us. [SHUFFLING NOISE] ARCHIVIST: And what exactly is on this t– … Oh… MELANIE: Yes.

… But for written statements, we got recent examples where Jon… did some follow-up before recording, or apparently got acquainted with a statement without recording it right away? Cases in point:

(MAG123) ARCHIVIST: The investigation is tricky, I don’t want to impose on Basira and, obviously, Melanie and… Martin… aren’t available, but I did do some light searching myself on Gregory Cox. … Vanished, unsurprisingly. […] No notes or follow-up here that I can see, just… [SIGH] It looks like the statement came in just after Gertrude disappeared. […] There’s a small supplemental document with it, though, that is a… bit alarming. I–it’s apparently a list of people whose names appear in the various pieces of text Mr Cox was pasting into the code. It’s unclear if they were meant to be… users or victims, but I cannot help but note that there seem to be the names of several statement-givers who found their way to the Institute, including noted arachnophobe Carlos Vittery.

(MAG125) ARCHIVIST: Regardless, I’ve hit another research dead end with this.

(MAG126) ARCHIVIST: I did do a small bit of follow-up on Deborah Madaki, just for my own curiosity. She didn’t go to Sannikov Land in the end. I don’t know, however, whether that was because she decided not to, or because… shortly after this statement was given, they found the body of one [Mary Randall] in her basement, and she has spent the last nine years in Eastwood Park Prison, where she remains to this day. I can’t find any evidence related to the condition of the body, but I can imagine what a sculptor’s apprentice might be capable of. Even an unwilling one.

(MAG127) BASIRA: And what was that you were doing yesterday? ARCHIVIST: … When…? BASIRA: You were sat on the floor for like four hours. ARCHIVIST: … Oh! Er, n–n–no, I was, er, I was… listening. Y’know, it’s, trying to see if any of the statements… called to me. BASIRA: And? ARCHIVIST: [FLIPS PAPER] BASIRA: Brilliant.

(MAG139) ARCHIVIST: No one’s come seeking vengeance recently, though, and looking at the details for the British Steel Plant in Scunthorpe, it does seem like Eugene is still around. So I can only assume… some sort of equilibrium was found. (MAG145) ARCHIVIST: I did some more digging into Eugene Vanderstock. I thought he was still alive and… working at the steel plant, but it looks like he’s just listed on one of the old directory pages on their website. … I really miss having people who know their way around a computer better than I do…!

So: were those cases of Jon… forcing himself to not read the statements, but already knowing the names/summaries and trying to do some search before he would be compelled to read them, or was this… Annabelle trying to mess him up a bit more, playing on his fears and trying to make him panic even more strongly.

(The fact that Jon felt a compulsion to read the statements out loud is not a novelty: he mentioned it to Georgie in MAG093. What I’m curious about is that Annabelle seems to insist that the recording is on Jon, although Jon claimed in MAG146 that he isn’t the one hitting record anymore. Does he do it unconsciously? I had always wondered about Tim’s comment, in season 3, describing to Martin how he had got mad because Jon and him had tried to talk and Jon had reached for the tape recorder – the way Tim had described it, it… had felt, to me, as if Jon wasn’t really aware of it.

Outside of statements, though: we’ve had had tapes popping up when Jon physically wasn’t in the room, or not yet – so Jon hadn’t manually turned those on. In season 4, there was his encounter with Martin in MAG129 (the tape recorder clicked on when Martin was alone in the room, we heard Jon enter), and his walk in the tunnels with Melanie in MAG131 (we heard them getting closer, and Jon asked her to give him the tape recorder, which she had been unaware of). So. Are the tape recorders a purely Jon thing, whether he activates them manually (consciously or not) or supernaturally? Are they Web and/or Annabelle’s, and she tried to divert his attention there?)

- In the end, I found Annabelle’s statement almost… reassuring? (Oops.) Because, in a way, Basira had already provided a possible Answer to this:

(MAG147) ARCHIVIST: I’m sure the flares will work fine. … I mean, un–unless it’s all some… elaborate… plot… to have us… burn this place down again. BASIRA: So what if it is? ARCHIVIST: I don’t follow…? BASIRA: I mean. Anything we do could be part of the “Grand Master Plan”. So – what, we do nothing? Just… sit on our hands, and hope that’s not what the spiders want? ARCHIVIST: [SIGH]

Basira had been presented by Daisy as more action-orientated and in a way… indeed, I’m not sure that “intentions” and “who is controlling” is the most fundamental focus of all? True that uninformed actions can have disastrous consequences (and Jon knows that: axing the Web table liberated the Not!Them, for example), but… Annabelle talked about how influences are numerous and their origins mostly unknown, or unable to be identified – it still leaves room for deciding who/what you want to be and what should matter to you? That you’re “you” as long as you decide? We had the case, in season 4, of Jon explaining his descent into the coffin as his own conscious choice, for his own (partially selfish) reasons, and… he brought some good, with that decision and action?

(MAG136) DAISY: Jon… when you went into the coffin. Was it you choosing to do that? Did you actually think you could save me, or was… that something telling you to do it? [SILENCE] ARCHIVIST: It was me. I was… drawn to it, I’ll admit, but it was my decision. [PAUSE] It wasn’t entirely about you, though. DAISY: What was it? ARCHIVIST: My– [PAUSE] [INHALE] [SIGH] My memories of the coma are not clear. But I know I made a choice; I made a choice to become… something else. Because I was afraid to die. But ever since then, I… I don’t know if I made the right decision; I–I’m stronger now, tougher, I can… … If I do die, now, or get sealed away somewhere forever… I don’t know if that’s a bad thing. And I don’t want to lose anyone else so, if I can maybe stop that happening, and [DRY CHUCKLE] the only danger is to me, I– I’ll do it in a heartbeat; worst case scenario… the universe loses another monster. DAISY: That’s messed up. ARCHIVIST: [LOW SELF-DEPRECATIVE DRY LAUGHTER] … Yeah. I suppose it is. […] Plus, I thought… [PAUSE] W– [SIGH] Well, I didn’t know what being down there had done to you. DAISY: You thought I was gonna kill you? ARCHIVIST: It was a possibility.

And even in season 3, he had made the conscious choice of trusting the others, and of burning Gerry’s page – although both were hard, and he had to force himself to stick to it, but this is what he had chosen and who he wanted to be?

(MAG117) ARCHIVIST: Still, it does sometimes make it hard to… fully trust them, I– [SIGH] You– you know what, no. I’m… I’m done with that. No more paranoia. It’s almost got me killed more than once, and… Georgie was right. If I am… slipping, then I need people I can trust. And I… I don’t think that can happen naturally for me an–anymore, so… I’m making a decision. I trust them. All of them. E– except Elias, obviously, that’s not– I mean… I’ve listened to the tapes. I’ve listened to the tape, I– I know what they talk about behind my back, how much they’ve… suffered, because of… this place… because of me.

(MAG117) ARCHIVIST: That’s it, then. I, I think. Except… [PAPER] I, uh… I haven’t burned it. Gerard’s page. … G–Gerry. I, I… I know there’s more he could tell me. He, he wouldn’t, of course, I, I, I know that, b–but he, he, it would still– b–be– there, that, that, that knowledge. I– It it would, it would still exist, I– I, I, I can’t. I… I want to help. I, I want to. But I… uh… I’m scared. On, on tape, just… just– just do it. [UNCAPPED LIGHTER] [HEAVY BREATHING] [SOUND OF A FLAME] Do it! [HEAVY BREATHING] [CRIES OF PAIN, BURNING SOUND] [HEAVY BREATHING, MUFFLED] I… [CAPPED LIGHTER, SHAKY VOICE] … you owe me one, Gerry. Rest in… … Just rest.

(I get that Annabelle is saying that there is always the idea that you’re never truly “you” because so many things are influencing you – but at the same time, I find it instead, yeah, oddly empowering because… “you” are your influences, too?)

(- Re: Jon, it’s. A really thin line, but at the very least, HE is still not fine with what he’s been doing:

(MAG146) ARCHIVIST: [QUIET] … That’s horrible… HELEN: Is it? We do what we need to do when it comes to feeding, don’t we? … Don’t we, Archivist? ARCHIVIST: … Yes… HELEN: It would be better if you embraced it. ARCHIVIST: … It’s not…

(MAG146) DAISY: And the third was after the coffin. ARCHIVIST: A man rejected by all who knew him, searching ever-darker places for love. When he told me his story, he started… weeping maggots. BASIRA: Enough. ARCHIVIST: … I hope so.

(MAG147) ARCHIVIST: What I’ve been doing to these people, it– … It hasn’t been because I was… “puppetted”, or “controlled”, or “possessed”. I wanted to do it. It felt good. … But at least, I know I can stop. I just… [INHALE] don’t know how. I… [INHALE] I don’t… want… to stop… … Goddamn! This… [MUFFLED VOICE, COVERED BY HANDS] This one really took it out of me.

And from blaming to The Web to acknowledging his responsibility, and that it had felt “good”, this is progress; and it’s still something he is not embracing, that he’s not okay with, that upsets him. So yeah. The “I don’t want to stop” bit is worrying but… At the same time, the way he’s handling the situation doesn’t scream “I want to keep doing it” either. And I doubt the girls will allow it to happen.)

- I wonder if Annabelle’s statement wasn’t technically meant to… give Jon his “Web” scar. I was positing until now that it had happened with A Guest for Mr Spider, as a kid, when he had been mincontrolled and had also watched the book’s effect on his bully, before it had snatched him – the loss of control on himself and on others. We (/I) tend to focus on the injuries-as-a-collection, as the mark of Jon experiencing the Fears, but technically, “experiencing” also happened to be about getting an inner understanding of their essence? I’m mostly thinking about The Unknowing, when he was able to finally pinpoint what was “Nikola” (what made The Stranger itself), and in the coffin, when he suddenly understood the nature of The Buried:

(MAG119) ARCHIVIST: … I see you. NIKOLA: Do you, now? ARCHIVIST: Yes… Yes, I s… I see the sad clown, b–bitter and hateful. I see him finding his way into a ci–circus where nobody knew him. I see him torn apart, becoming the mask, remade by a… a cruel ringmaster. Sometimes a doll, sometimes a mannequin, always hiding in somebody else’s skin. Somebody else’s name.

(MAG132) ARCHIVIST: … Come on… [STATIC] [SHAKY BREATHING] DAISY: Jon? ARCHIVIST: I know… DAISY: Th–the way out? ARCHIVIST: No… I know where we are! There isn’t no out, not here. This is… this is forever deep below creation. Where the weight of existence bears down… This is The Buried, and we are alive… There isn’t even an up.

… and curiously, alongside giving her own example and playing with Jon’s own fears of The Web and the loss of control, Annabelle… gave him a straight breakdown of the nature of The Web?

(MAG147, Annabelle Cane) “Unless, of course, none of it was intentional. None of it was planned. The Mother is the fear of manipulation, and lost control made manifest. So perhaps it is our fear that projects Her influence on everything that happens. Like the mind, retrospectively assigning reason to our actions, so we fit whatever occurs into the neatest pattern we can, and declare Her web both intricate… and complete. Perhaps She is no more active than Terminus – simply sitting and revelling in the inevitable cascade of paranoia, as those who hold Her in special terror cocoon themselves in red string and theory. Or perhaps I am simply telling you what you need to hear, in order to behave exactly as the Mother wishes you to. [STATIC, GRADUALLY INCREASING] Perhaps… I have never even seen a beach. Don’t… go to Hill Top Road again. [STATIC FADES]”

Basically, Annabelle threw Jon deep into the web by… making him doubt and fear that he could be manipulated (saying he wasn’t, then demonstrating that she could still do it, hence the final order, hence the mentions that she could have been lying all through her statement). So, giving him another paranoia fit while throwing him into the pit re: responsibility and potential guilt because he attacked people and those ones were on him.

- Annabelle’s considerations about “free will” and about Jon’s preoccupations indeed seem to play a lot with his current concerns and fears:

(MAG125) ARCHIVIST: I suppose that’s the question with so much of “violence”, “war”: how much are you really in command of yourself or of others? I’m not sure what scares me more: the idea that deep down, everyone is in complete control of their actions, that everything is, on some level, intentional; or that ultimately, we don’t have any control of ourselves at all, and the rest is just… rationalisation.

(MAG129) ARCHIVIST: I don’t like this. I don’t like… not being sure what’s going to be in my mind. What thoughts are mine and what are from… elsewhere. Why I just know some statements are what I should be reading. I assume this one is related to the coffin. To Daisy.

(MAG136) DAISY: [BREATHING HARDER, FASTER] Yeah, well… What do you think? You think I’m weak, just… [SIGH] ‘cause I’m not already chasing the next kill? You think I’m less me? ARCHIVIST: I… [SIGH] I don’t feel like I’m exactly in the best place to judge the… intersection [CHUCKLE] between free will and humanity. Still trying to figure that out myself.

(MAG145) ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] The more I listen and learn, the more it seems to me we’re all just… “groping about”. Trying desperately to find out what we’re actually meant to be doing. [PAUSE] These things that… loom so large over our lives trap us, and push us, and… sometimes kill us. But they never actually tell us what we’re supposed to be doing. So we scheme and we plot, lash out at each other without ever really knowing why. […] But I’m really starting to worry that there aren’t any answers. Not like I want there to be. There aren’t any answers in Ny-Ålesund; there aren’t any answers in the past; I’ve been inside The Buried, and there were no answers there.

(MAG146) ARCHIVIST: There is… nothing in the world more reassuring than ignorance which we can mistake for certainty. But no. Almost every one of those statements, those… people… that poor old man…

… and technically, she didn’t give any answer either, no certainty. So it really feels like the big purpose was to mess with him? (… to feed herself, maybe? She did mention that The Web was about “loss of control made manifest”, too, and that’s… what Jon is experiencing right now, although he’s aware that he is responsible for his own actions, and that he’s entangled in Annabelle’s plans.)

- One thing that Annabelle mentioned regarding how The Web operates:

(MAG147, Annabelle Cane) “Looking back, of course… and remembering the crunch of used syringes beneath my feet, I realise that addiction… is one of the strongest vectors of control there is.”

And as usual, could be an exaggeration/misleading/making you focus on the outside aspects and elements rather than their effects but… it’s indeed true that there is an enormous proportion of addicts, especially smokers, who have come into contact with The Web – I had finally noticed it thanks to MAG136:

(MAG016, Carlos Vittery) “I walked out there one day with the intention of smoking a cigarette, sat on the rusty garden furniture that had come with the place, and looked up. There it was – stretched between two large branches, silhouetted against the sky it sat. […] I leapt up, and started to head back inside, but as I did my eyes flicked wildly around the rest of the garden, and everywhere they came to rest I saw more lurking spiders, more webs. There were dozens that I could see, which meant there must be hundreds more I could not.”

(MAG056, Trevor Herbert) “In the early 80s, I was deep in the grip of my twin addictions. As I mentioned, after a while, The Hunt became an addiction of its own. Of the two, I’ve always found heroin the easier one to quit. […] But The Hunt… The Hunt is a purpose. It’s not just a way to get through the day, it’s a reason for there to be a day at all.” […] “she locked eyes with me. The weirdest sensation began to flow through me; I wanted to leave. It wasn’t like with a vampire, where I would feel like I’d been spoken to. This was just a sudden awareness of my own desire. I’d been sober for three years at that point, but I felt like I desperately wanted to get high, and I knew that the best place to get some was out in the night. Looking back, I think it might have been my own mind rationalising the way I felt my will being tugged out of the room, but it was still very powerful. If I hadn’t had a lifetime’s experience of identifying and fighting off the effect of the vampire’s gaze, I probably would have done it, too.”

(MAG059, Ronald Sinclair) “We never really got into any proper trouble – but the sort of glares we got just for smoking on the street made me want to break a window sometimes. I never did, though. I’m… not quite sure why I didn’t, to be honest. Before I met Ray, I… would have. There were plenty of broken windows in my past. There was something about living there, though, that… dulled the urge. My memories of a lot of my time there are, well… not exactly foggy, but feel almost like I’m watching someone else’s memories. I remember that it sometimes felt like I do things, without actually deciding to do them – like it was just muscle memory moving me, or a… string gently guiding me. It was never bad, or dangerous stuff, just… things I wouldn’t normally have done, like brushing my teeth.”

(MAG112, Alexia Crawley) “Brandon took to the role immediately, with a gravity and a weariness that I don’t think could have been entirely feigned. He was the only one who didn’t seem excited by the movie, and spent his off-hours smoking and reading quietly in one of the trailers. It was a shame because, for whatever reason, he also seemed to be the only one that Dexter would listen to. I only saw them talking once or twice but every time, Dexter would be wrapped, nodding at… whatever Brandon might have to say.”

(MAG136, Alison Killala) “Despite this or, maybe because of it… [Neil Lagorio and I] became friends. I think we bonded on that shoot; sheltering from the rain for hours at a time, watching a sobby animatronic jaguar gradually start to rust. I had to fight every instinct inside me, everything that wanted to burst out in admiration for his work and his… profound effect on my life. But instead I chain-smoked and laughed, trying my best to come across as my hero’s peer…!”

And it obviously put Jon’s smoking to mind. He had told Leitner that he had been quit for “five years” in February 2017 – except, well, he had cigarettes on him, so at this point, no, he was probably actually back to smoking already and presumably had been for a while. After he had opened the lighter’s package and denied smoking (MAG036, Tim+Jon: “You smoke?” “No… And I don’t allow ignition sources in my archive!”), Elias had commented about his smoking on July 29th 2016 (MAG040, “He’s not smoking again, is he?”) in a way that could mean… that either he knew about Jon’s Past As A Smoker, either Jon had been spotted with cigarettes recently (THAT’S CREEPY, CREEPY BOSS, ALL-SEEING OR NOT), and Tim’s snarky remark in February 2017 fit too well to think it was a completely random example (MAG079, “But he’s going to do something, and it’s going to be bad. And I don’t mean like ‘sneaking a cigarette’ bad – like, properly bad.”). Daisy spotted his cigarettes in MAG091 (“SILK CUT”. FOREVER REMINDER THAT HE SMOKES “SILK CUT” OF ALL THINGS.), he offered one to Gerry in MAG111, Daisy pointed out his lighter in MAG136 and Jon apparently Can’t Think About It (static and then changing the subject) so… something is definitely up with the lighter, at the very least.

-> The moment Jon stopped smoking roughly matches the time he joined the Institute (since he had worked there for four years when he began the series, second-half/end of 2015), but also the death of his grandmother (he mentioned in MAG081 that she “peacefully passed away five years ago”) – was it related to one of those two events? Because he’ll definitely need to channel again the Jon from back then who had managed to quit. (… if he ever did. Because uh. Telling Leitner that he had been quit for five years, while he had cigarettes on him, was… Jon. Jon. You had broken your streak a long time ago, you absolute hypocrite disaster.)

-> And it was ~because he had suddenly wanted a cigarette~ that Jon had left Leitner alone in MAG080, giving an opening for Elias to Brutal Pipe Murder him – something that Nikola would later use to toy with him, by mixing it up with guilt:

(MAG119) ARCHIVIST: It is not! It’s not, I didn’t know, it’s not my fault you died! LEITNER: No, I suppose not. Me, on the other hand… […] I understand, of course. You needed a cigarette! I suppose you should have remembered that smoking kills!

-> So once again: ELIAS, what do you KNOW about the Spiders running wild in your Institute, and about Jon’s lighter.

(- And the smoking/addiction being potentially usable by The Web puts me in mind of a few other people too:

(MAG144, Gary Boylan) “I’d been out easily twice as long as any time before. But my dad didn’t say a word about it – just sat in front of the TV, laughing at some crappy panel show, smoking that… God-awful pipe that left the wallpaper yellow and peeling. I remember thinking he wasn’t content to just destroy himself. He seemed to have to take everything out around him.”

Extinction statement but. Gary’s dad was a vivid picture.

(MAG113, Adelard Dekker) “The deaths were about a fortnight apart, and when the third came in with the same symptoms, Bianca, the coroner, called me in. For the last few years we’ve had an… arrangement. I slip her a bit of cash to feed a nasty habit she has, and if she’s called to any inquest which looks strange, I’m the first to know. Despite her weakness, Bianca is still a damn good coroner, and filled me in on the details quickly.”

………………. Adelard, who had been in possession of The Web Table at some point after its Hill Top Road days, and had been able to use it to bind and trap the Not!Them…

And. And. Technically, I cannot not mention:

(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. […] 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…?

Listen: if I’m haunted by the mental picture of Elias, smoking weed in his office in March-or-May 2015 because the Institute’s budget is getting tight again, and suddenly shouting “You know what? I should totes KILL GERTRUDE to solve my problems. GENIUS!” while a spider scurries away.

then, you have to be inflicted with it, too.)

- Though Trevor had presented The Hunt as an “addiction”, and Jon’s own relationship to the statements had also been presented in such a way:

(MAG107) ARCHIVIST: I’d love to rattle off a lot of potential other reasons for this, nice rational causes of recovery, but… I feel we’re past the point of transparent rationalisations. It looks like the recording of statements has now passed over from psychological compulsion into… a more physical dependence. I don’t whether this is… some sort of classical addiction or something a bit deeper. But either way, this is not the time for experimentation. I’m on a deadline, and if I need to be reading statements to stay well enough, then I suppose that’s what I shall do.

Martin also name-dropped it in his list of potential reasons for Jon’s behaviour and the way he had attacked Jess for her live-statement, and then Jon first tried to blame it on an exterior influence before finally admitting that it was all him, wording it in a way… that indeed matches up with addiction too:

(MAG142) MARTIN: Oh, that can’t– that can’t… I mean, it’s not him, is it? Not, not really? It’s, what, addiction, instinct, maybe mind control, something like that? I… can’t believe he’d choose to do something like that. … No, no, I, I can’t think like that, though, I, I can’t let myself, ‘cause I mean, if, if he’s already gone, then all of this is just…

(MAG146) BASIRA: He knows exactly what he’s doing. ARCHIVIST: I don’t–! Uh, it’s not that simple, it–it feels… [BREATHING QUICKENING] … I don’t know if I can control it, I don’t know if it’s even me doing it…! BASIRA: … So you say you’re being controlled. ARCHIVIST: I–I don’t know. Maybe? Th–The Web, it–

(MAG147) ARCHIVIST: … Annabelle’s right, though. I mean– I can’t trust anything she says to not be another lie to further manipulate and manoeuvre us, but… deep down, I think she’s right. What I’ve been doing to these people, it– … It hasn’t been because I was… “puppetted”, or “controlled”, or “possessed”. I wanted to do it. It felt good. … But at least, I know I can stop. I just… [INHALE] don’t know how. I… [INHALE] I don’t… want… to stop… … Goddamn! This… [MUFFLED VOICE, COVERED BY HANDS] This one really took it out of me.

As of now, I’m not… utterly convinced by the addiction analogy for what is happening with avatars and people’s fears, though, but that’s mostly because I’m thinking in terms of effects, and the fact that in Avatars’ cases, the primary victims are not themselves but other people: here, the main problem is not that Jon has an addiction problem to (live or written) statements, but the fact that extorting live-statements causes pain, distress, fear and overall constant suffering, impacting and destroying the lives of other people (eg Jess). The fact that it makes him feel good or not… is not the most relevant thing as to why he has to stop it; I feel like talking of it solely as an “addiction” might be diminish the gravity of what he does a bit? (Which is why I’m grateful that Basira immediately summed up his actions as a criminal’s: yes, he’s attacked innocent people, yes, he’s acted monstrous, yes, he’s currently a danger.) (But then again… it could be a point to be made, that the statements are actually bad for Jon – that they feel good but that it is… a sort of reprieve, covering up other issues, and that no, fundamentally, these stories are still shattering him.)

However, it is probably the correct analogy to approach how they should get him to stop it or to control the craving – if… it is… even possible… which I’m not even sure about…

(- I am kind of expecting a talk about why the team shouldn’t just try to find a way to kill Jon off, if he can’t or won’t control it? Concretely, of course, it’s not like they would know how to do it: Jon heals fast, can’t harm himself, didn’t manage to get instantly destroyed by the Dark Sun. He has managed to get out of the coffin once and might be able to pull that off again – even if he went back inside willingly, he probably wouldn’t manage to stay inside forever, since he already had “regrets” about going inside after three days. Plus, Daisy had managed to get some distance from The Hunt and to separate herself from it when she was inside of the coffin, but we saw that Jon’s powers had still been active and kicking while inside – so that… doesn’t seem to be exactly an option for him (because The Eye is him/within him? Because The Buried relies on awareness, like The Vast, and it can’t totally be isolated from The Eye?)

But pragmatically, I still feel like the question of what-to-do-with-Jon-and-is-it-really-worth-it-to-ensure-that-he-stays-alive has to be raised…? (Or am I totally heartless for thinking that eh, even if I liked him a lot as a character, if he’s terrorising people and hurting innocents, then no, it’s not worth it, and I’m not interested in hearing him getting glimpses of genuine happiness or jokes or hopes while Jess and probably more are hurt and hurting and their lives utterly messed up because of him.) If Jon is going Monster and can’t/won’t stop, and given how the Assistants reacted, it might cross their mind, and rightfully so? I’m expecting them to at least contain/monitor him, as of now, to prevent further victims, although… it won’t solve anything on the long run. But I want it to stop, arrrrg orz Not solely because I don’t like random people getting hurt, but because it was… the reason… Jess had come to the Institute…

(MAG142) MARTIN: O–okay. Hum. [INHALE] Right, well… [EXHALE] Firstly, I’m re– I’m really sorry that this happened. Hum… in–in terms of next steps… JESS: Just, I just… I don’t know, y–you know, talk to him, I guess? J–just tell him, like, like, I mean that– it’s not okay. You know, right, I’m not… I don’t know what he did, but it– You know, he can’t just go around, and well, you know, just keep doing… MARTIN: Right. I–I understand. JESS: Good! … Well… You… I just, I don’t want to see him again, alright? Ever.

It was hard, it was awful to describe what had happened to her again, she got hit really badly by Institute, but she came because Jon had to be stopped… it was only for this that she came, we probably won’t hear her ever again, and I don’t want it to go to waste………………. ;_;

(YES, I know that we’re potentially heading towards a ritual getting completed and/or many, maaany people dying/getting tortured in the process – but I always find it harder to hear about personal stories than the overall broad picture, and I know that Jess won’t be okay ever (… well, Daisy confirmed the trick of signing up with the Institute to get rid of the dreams/come under The Eye’s protection, but Team Archives has never been… invested in saving/helping people they didn’t personally know), but it’s even worse if her complaint doesn’t mean anything in the end… ;;))

- Okay, so. Probably off-track and gratuitous long tangent but, eh, that’s what speculation is about, right?

I got a bit of a punch over MAG147’s date, because suddenly, time had moved… very fast towards a few Archives Anniversaries. Annabelle’s statement was dated 20th July, 2018; it’s already one month since the expedition to The Dark (Jon took Manuela’s statement on June 16th, in MAG143) and… we’re getting close to the anniversaries of both:

* Jane Prentiss’s attack on the Archives, July 29th 2016.

* The Unknowing attempt, August 06-07th 2017.

… And Jon is very conscious of the time passing, of the dates – he sighed about his perception of time in MAG123 (realising that two years had passed, and that he… hadn’t “lived” the entirety of them), and even mentioned the Institute’s anniversary as a source of dread:

(MAG127) ARCHIVIST: Whatever is happening now… has its origins two hundred years ago. In the work of an evil man. … Exactly two hundred years, in fact. Don’t think that little detail has evaded me. I don’t know the precise date the Institute was founded, but I do know that it was in 1818. … Something’s coming. I know it is. … But I just don’t know what I need to do.

These are of course also the anniversaries of Sasha’s death, Tim’s death. The reminder, too, that Martin is the last one of the original assistants still alive, and so far one has died every summer since Jon was appointed as Head Archivist – if there was a moment to panic over the Assistants “symbolically” being in danger because there is a pattern, it would be now. Daisy mentioned Jon’s PTSD in MAG142, we got a reminder that Jon still had Jane Prentiss’s ashes in his desk in MAG140:

(MAG140) BASIRA: Er… Jon. What’s this. [DRY SOUND] ARCHIVIST: Mm? … Oh. That’s… [SILENCE] That, uh, that’s… my rib? BASIRA: … Right. [PUTS IT DOWN] ARCHIVIST: Yup… BASIRA: And… the jar of ashes. ARCHIVIST: Not– Not mine; I–I mean, it belongs to me, I–I guess, but it’s not… Er, stationery is in the other drawer?

Could have been nothing more than a casual joke but with the anniversary at the corner… I’m not so sure.

But mostly, I’m thinking about Tim.

I’m still… very surprised that Tim was mentioned so little in season 4, when it had been extremely important for Jon that Tim make it back alive?

(MAG118) TIM: You thought you brought me in as a distraction, right? ARCHIVIST: What?! TIM: Let me do it! Go in, maybe you can get some of them– ARCHIVIST: Tim, contrary to what you think, I did not bring you here to indulge your death wish! TIM: It’s not what this is! ARCHIVIST: No?! TIM: No! You knew I might not be coming back! ARCHIVIST: I knew none of us might be coming back, and I’m not gonna let anyone get killed for nothing! TIM: Oh, except for those people in there! ARCHIVIST: They’re already dead! TIM: Not all of them! ARCHIVIST: I am not losing you as well!!

Sasha had been dead for more than six months when Jon realised what had happened, and Tim&Martin learned about it even later – even then, she was… mentioned so much. Nikola pretended to be her during The Unknowing, taunted him about the possibility of her resurrection (“Oh, you caught me~ I’m… Sasha! […] No~! Really, it’s me! Sasha– whatever her name was! Back from the dead, just like you wanted~!”), prompting a visceral reaction from Jon. Sasha was on Martin’s lips, too, when he confronted Elias and his (in)actions. But Tim… from what I recall, this is all we got about Tim this season:

(MAG122) ARCHIVIST: Er, the others. T–Tim? Is he… [SILENCE] Oh… [SILENCE] BASIRA: … Daisy, too. [SILENCE] ARCHIVIST: … I’m sorry. […] You’re… sure a–about Tim? BASIRA: Yeah, they, er… They found his remains a few days later.

(MAG123) MELANIE: How did you make it out, then, mm? ARCHIVIST: What? MELANIE: Tim is dead. Daisy is dead. And you, what? You’re just fine? ARCHIVIST: No, I’ve been in hospital for six months! […] Melanie, Melanie: it’s… it’s me. MELANIE: Oh! Okay, so what, “Hi Jon, how are you, get anyone killed lately?” ARCHIVIST: … I… MELANIE: Wipe that look off your face. Like you’re not the reason all of this is happening.

(MAG123) ARCHIVIST: She needs help, Basira. God, it didn’t even get that bad when I was… … Even Tim never threatened me. Not like that. […] So: we’re under siege; Melanie is aggressively unstable; Martin is working very closely with The Lonely, who is, predictably enough, isolating him; and, oh, yes, Tim and Daisy are still dead. Which is at least easy to keep track of! BASIRA: That isn’t funny, Jon. ARCHIVIST: I know it’s not–! … Sorry. It’s just… it’s a lot.

(MAG123) ARCHIVIST: I have no theories on it, no… no sudden insights. [SIGH] I wish I could talk it through with Martin. … Or Tim. [SHORT SAD CHUCKLE] Or Sasha. But we never really did that, did we…? … Everything’s changed. … [SIGH]

(MAG126) ARCHIVIST: A “Great Twisting”, that Gertrude stopped at the cost of a single life. … I thought… moving away from my humanity would have made that seem more acceptable. That sort of sacrifice… but it just makes me sad… … I remembered Gertrude’s notebook; we found it alongside the plastic explosives, but it rather got lost amongst the business of… [SIGH] saving the world at the cost of two lives…

(MAG133) BASIRA: Good. As far as I can see, Gertrude Robinson was the most effective person in this place. ARCHIVIST: … That’s what Tim said as well.

Plus, from Martin:

(MAG120) ELIAS: Hello, inspector. Martin. I’m… sorry to hear about Tim. MARTIN: Don’t. ELIAS: And Daisy, I suppose. MARTIN: Don’t. you. dare. ELIAS: I suppose it’s some consolation Basira made it out. And Jon – more or less.

(MAG138) MARTIN: I don’t know what he’s talking about when he mentions Millbank. The old prison, I guess? Tim said the tunnels under the Institute were all that was left of it, but… Jon said he’d checked them pretty thoroughly. [SILENCE] [SIGH] I’m not the one who knows all about this stuff…! I wish– … No. No, it’s fine, I’m… fine, I… [EXHALE] I can do this.

And I’m still sad, and a bit curious?, about the fact that… Jon had heard Tim’s last words to him, but told Basira he couldn’t remember how The Unknowing had gone:

(MAG119) TIM: Back! Get back! That’s right. Jon, I don’t know if you can hear me, but if you can… ARCHIVIST: [FAINTLY AND FAR] Tim…? TIM: I don’t forgive you. But thank you for this.

(MAG122) BASIRA: How much do you remember? ARCHIVIST: I don’t… Music. Everything was wrong. Gertrude was there, and then… dancing. I think? Then… pain. And I was somewhere else. Dreaming.

Are the memories truly lost, and they’ll never be aware of the fact that Tim pulled the trigger, took his revenge for Danny’s death, and saved the world – and that Jon was never to be forgiven? Or are they stuck somewhere in Jon’s subconscious? Are they buried and meant to be dug out, or… forgotten?

“Grief” has been surprisingly absent this season. We know that Martin had the added dimension of losing his mother – which had… already been an open wound for a while (her refusing to see him), made worse by Elias (revealing to him that she hated him, and why, and carving “what she was seeing” whenever she looked at him into his mind), until she died two months later, and… he explicitly bore that death alone:

(MAG127) BASIRA: Honestly, I kind of regret not just… grabbing Martin and shaking an explanation out of him. But I didn’t want to push it. He was in a… bad place, what with the attack and his mom and everything, so I didn’t press it. Now, I try and bring it up, he just… disappears. Nothing to be done. ARCHIVIST: So–sorry, you said… What happened with his mother? BASIRA: Oh, yeah. She died. About two months– ARCHIVIST: Oh… BASIRA: –after you, er… … Martin was… … He tried to stay strong. Keep it together but, that sort of thing… ARCHIVIST: [SIGH]

(MAG129) ARCHIVIST: I, er… I heard about your mother. MARTIN: … Yeah. ARCHIVIST: I am… so sorry. [SILENCE] MARTIN: Thank you. [INHALE] It’s… [SHAKY EXHALE] It’s better, this way. ARCHIVIST: If–if you do need to talk, I– MARTIN: I can’t. ARCHIVIST: No. No, o–of course.

It makes a lot of sense, for Martin, to be especially vulnerable to The Lonely: he always had… trouble connecting with others, and his relationships were shown to be ultimately one-sided. He was hovering around and crushing on Jon while Jon was suspecting him of murder; his mother disliked him and refused to let him take care of her, trying to cut ties; even Tim admitted that he didn’t know Martin as well as he used to know Sasha, and avoided him like he did the other new assistants (we didn’t hear them interact again after MAG104, which only happened by accident and chance). He explicitly didn’t like Daisy, in season 3; had been snappy to Basira, and both Basira and Melanie didn’t have a lot of nice things to say about him, although Martin had shown sympathy towards Melanie in MAG108 (and then, Melanie fell deeper to the Slaughter bullet, and Basira began to turn more callous and calculating). Overall, the fact that he was aware that he hadn’t been able to notice that Sasha had been replaced probably didn’t… help.

But it’s mostly that absence of… anything about the loss of Tim that surprises me a bit, and I find it interesting that neither Jon and Martin apparently took the time to grieve. Aside from “addiction” (reminder that Jude used drugs too!), there’s something else that has been present in quite a few avatars’ storylines – depression. Oliver began to dream when he was depressed (MAG011, “I barely made it through a full year before the stress of my new job, not to mention some problems in my personal life, led to me having a full nervous breakdown. I’d broken up with Graham, my boyfriend of six years and had to leave the home we shared, going to stay with some of the few friends that had survived my year of stress-fuelled outbursts and constantly cancelled plans. It was there, sleeping on my friend Anahita’s sofa, in the depths of my misery, that I first started to have the dreams.”), Jude was going through a burn out when she met Agnes (MAG089, “The point was, that I burned through too much of myself, because I didn’t know what else I could burn. My girlfriend saw it, though she had no idea how to help with the deep depression that had settled over me. […] I was burned out in every sense but one. And that was the one that saved me. It was Agnes, of course. I don’t know where she found me, I only remember sitting in a booth with a beautiful young woman who smelled like matches and incense.”). Kinda goes well with “addiction” in the idea that the Fears tend to recruit people when they’re vulnerable? But keeping Jon in mind, Daisy, mostly, had repeatedly pointed out that he hasn’t been fine for a while:

(MAG136) DAISY: You need to stop moping. ARCHIVIST: I what? DAISY: You need to stop swanning around, being all sad. ARCHIVIST: I’m, I’m not “swanning around”– DAISY: “Boo-hoo, I’m so alone and a monster!” ARCHIVIST: I am alone, Martin is– DAISY: Busy. doing. paperwork. Not like he’s dead. Beside, he’s not the only other person here, you know. There’s me; Melanie; Basira– ARCHIVIST: Traumatised; traumatised; and paranoid, because of me. DAISY: Get over yourself! You’re always talking about choices – we all made ours. Now I’m making the choice… to get some drinks in. Coming?

(MAG142) DAISY: I, I mean, it’s pretty standard stuff. MARTIN: What?! DAISY: Used to see it all the time back in the force, especially with the Section’d. Not like there’s… “normal” trauma, you know? But it’s pretty common. The most important thing becomes control, engaging on your own terms. Even when it’s stupid or dangerous. Anything to not feel helpless. MARTIN: Oh, god… DAISY: And of course, for Jon, there’s survivor’s guilt in there, too. He thinks he’s not human. Makes him very… self-destructive. MARTIN: Yeah, well. We’ve all had trauma. DAISY: And everyone’s changed.

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

And it would’t be surprising if the fact that neither Martin&Jon took the time, nor did work on grieving… contributed, a lot, to put them in such a bad headspace – Jon feeding from people, being in denial over his responsibility and not trying to actively stop it nor warning the others about it, Martin admitting that the temptation of The Lonely is working on him.

At the end of season 3, Tim’s very last scene, very last words… were technically a reference to a joke about depression&therapy:

(MAG119) TIM: You sound stressed. You know, I hear the Great Grimaldi’s in town. You should go see him. Cheer yourself up. NIKOLA: That’s. not. funny. TIM: I know. [LOUD EXPLOSION] [CLICK.]

(And Peter Lukas had offered Martin to go to therapy (MAG120, “And if you want to talk to a counsellor, the Institute will of course cover any cost.”), although… yeaaaah, coming from Peter, it just sounded. Plain bad.)

It introduced the theme a bit; season 4 then made it pretty clear that in this universe, actual therapy is not a bad thing. We saw it with Melanie, though she did express cautiousness about it (it’s not a Miracle Solution, some therapists are bad or don’t fit you). We saw it with Jess:

(MAG142) JESS: So. It… It took a long time to get over that. I mean… That’s not weird, right? I mean, it was a bad time. You know? It–it stays with you. I was signed off for, what, probably about six months, with the injuries? I had pretty bad, uh, nightmares, claustrophobia, I mean… Obviously, right? But, uh, but–but I did my physio, and, you know, talked wi–with the counsellor they gave me? Look, I did everything I was supposed to, and–and yeah, I… I guess I was fine. You know, once the bruises were gone, I… Well, it’s easy to blame memory, right? You know, ha–hallucination, coincidence, all the… classic shite you tell yourself. Look, life went back to… normal, I… I was fine. Until… [CHOKING] about two weeks ago. MARTIN: And that was when you met J– … Er, one of our employees.

Even Gertrude had directed Lucia towards someone – she sounded… very manipulative and lying through her teeth about the nightmares (? She would know that no, Lucia’s wouldn’t stop, especially after giving her statement?), but I have trouble picturing Gertrude doing the extra effort of recommending someone and actively searching for their contact information if it was just to get rid of Lucia (she really didn’t need to do so, the statement was over and Lucia hadn’t asked for anything!); if Gertrude recommended them, it’s probably that she genuinely knew that it could help?

(MAG130) LUCIA: H… uh. Will it help? GERTRUDE: I’m sorry? LUCIA: Telling my story. To you. Will, will it help with the nightmares? GERTRUDE: If that’s your primary goal, my dear, I would suggest you speak to a qualified counsellor. We can suggest one, if you like; that said, I do believe most people find the process of giving a statement to be rather… mm, cathartic. And whatever nightmares your experience has left you with, I’m sure they won’t be bothering you much longer. […] And do you feel any better? LUCIA: No. GERTRUDE: Mm, that’s a shame. Hang on, let me see if I can find you the number for that counselling service. They’re actually quite good.

We’ve had a broad gallery of characters handling their traumas in different ways, this season. Melanie is going to therapy, and whether her therapist is Web/Eye/Lonely or not… it is working to help her get some control over herself. She’s quieter, she expresses her boundaries – far from losing her voice, she is… reappropriating it. Daisy has not sought out professional help, but she’s careful about how she handles herself, the symptoms and how to prevent falling off – she seeks out company, she talks, she communicates, she tries to repair bridges, while remaining overall careful:

(MAG136) DAISY: [QUICKLY] You’re not babysitting me, alright?! I know that’s what the others think, sometimes, but… that’s not it. I just… don’t like… being on my own if I can help it. You know. Flashbacks, panic attacks, the usual. Just trying to avoid it if I can. ARCHIVIST: I know, Daisy, I–I do. It’s hard.

(MAG144) DAISY: No, I’m ju– [SIGH] Just ignore me. Continue with… whatever. [SILENCE] MARTIN: … Are you alright? DAISY: Yeah. Just a… a bit empty around here. You know? MARTIN: Not really. DAISY: Melanie’s out, and… [EXHALE] Jon and Basira’re still off. Bit worried. But they can take care of themselves, you know?

And on the other side, just like Jon and Martin, Basira just… tried to deal with things on her own, and partially failed and hurt herself in the process:

(MAG128) BASIRA: Do you know how I survived the… The Unknowing? ARCHIVIST: I… No. No, I don’t. BASIRA: No powers, no… magic or… help. I was trapped in that place, and so I tried to figure it out. And I did. A little. So I kept doing it. I kept going through until I got out. I… reasoned my way out of that nightmare. ARCHIVIST: Good lord… BASIRA: Then everything ended, and Daisy was gone. And you were gone. And Tim. And then I got back to the Institute, and Martin send me to meet the new boss. Then I stood alone in an empty office for more than one hour. I can trust me, Jon. That’s it. ARCHIVIST: [SIGH]

And it could be that Jon… should have gone for therapy, too, and never will. But if there was ever a moment for him to try it out as a way to handle himself, I feel like it could be now? He had been constantly adamant about not going for it and… his reject resurfaced very recently with Georgie:

(MAG058) MARTIN: He’s just under a lot of pressure. You know how messed up he’s been since Prentiss. TIM: How messed up he’s been?! MARTIN: Of course, I’m sorry – sorry, I didn’t mean that you weren’t, just– TIM: No! Because I didn’t start stalking my co-workers! MARTIN: Maybe try talking to him. TIM: Sure. Like he doesn’t already look at me like I’m a murderer. MARTIN: Look, look, you just got to let me work through this. Alright? I suggested therapy, but he just says no, so– TIM: Well, we need to do something! MARTIN: Yeah, maybe.

(MAG145) ARCHIVIST: I’m… I’m alright. I’m trying to, uh… rest up a bit. Take it easy. [HUFF] GEORGIE: Really? ‘Cause… I’m pretty sure I heard talking about a screaming headless corpse just now. ARCHIVIST: Oh… Oh. W–were you… listening? GEORGIE: Oh, uh. Didn’t mean to. You know. These… doors are not that thick. ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] … Fine. I’m deep in it. Had some… “close calls”. [SILENCE] GEORGIE: I’m sorry to hear that. [PAUSE] … You should probably get some therapy too. ARCHIVIST: [HUFF] Would you go with me as well? GEORGIE: … No. ARCHIVIST: Yeah. … No, I thought as much.

Because concretely, what can they do now, re:Jon, and what can Jon do about this “addiction” of his to destroy people…? Could be that precisely, it’s over, they’re just trying to buy a bit of time, but Jon is Done For, and either he’s dying at the end of this season, either he’s going full monster. But if there is a solution to at least attenuate the problem, my money is on therapy, with how the theme has popped up here and there, together with “control (of yourself)”…? (And it was especially jarring, in this episode, how… I got the feeling that Jon was aiming for Free Therapy in front of the tape recorder? Except it’s a one-sided exchange, it’s him talking to himself, and he’s not equipped for self-analysis.) (And there is something to be said, maybe, about how inflicting Fears and misery on others and the whole “Feed what feeds you, or it will feed on you”, is textbook “hurting others to not hurt yourself/to stop hurting yourself? So, I don’t know. It’s spooks, it’s alien entities, but we’ve always had a mix of supernatural and down-to-earthness when it came to dealing with the entities and their effects… so maybe there would still be a way to unravel Jon’s issues in a positive way, for once.)

(Aaaah, I’m mostly interested in the idea of Melanie and Daisy talking to Jon about the influence of powers and personal responsibility, potentially more… quietly, after a few days, once they’ve all cooled down. Because Daisy might feel grateful for Jon for having pulled her out of the coffin, and I really doubt she would give up on him. Melanie… a bit less, and she used to genuinely dislike Jon, but she still Knows What It’s like. Both would have rightful reasons to feel bitter/annoyed/mad, though, that Jon has been spilling advice here and there, presenting himself as the voice of reason… and was absolutely not following through with his own actions, once again.)

(- Re: Annabelle’s statement. I have no Personal Offended Feelings about the jovial call-out directed towards the red-strings theorist (“simply sitting and revelling in the inevitable cascade of paranoia, as those who hold Her in special terror cocoon themselves in red string and theory.”), because 1°) THAT’S FAIR BUT HOW ‘BOUT I DO IT ANYWAY, 2°) I’m mostly amused because it adds to the pile of things about how I live TMA as I lived Umineko. I already had a list of things they share that I was amused about (tea, comatose love-interest, and (DUCT) tape, etc.), and I can now add to it “writer using a female character to shout at his fanbase when they’re fumbling around trying to understand The Fuck Is Happening”. Spider woman really interested in stories, insufferable/absolutely awful Witch of Theatregoing, Drama and Spectating – same struggle.)

MAG148’s title is out and OOOOOOOH does it. Sound. Like. Another. Beholding episode. Which would be our 4th already this season – it’s… a lot more than previous ones, really making it feel like The Eye is getting more present and threatening. (Could technically be The Web, too, with that weird intertwining of them that we got lately! Or just plainly Annabelle again.) As for the content: there is an obvious joke to make about Elias and the title would also fit him awfully well (sob); obligatory thinking about MAG003’s Graham; Adelard Dekker had referred to half of it in relation to Gertrude back in MAG113… But mostly: it could… accurately describe the Assistants deciding to monitor Jon? And statement-wise, it mainly screams “PANOPTICON” to me. So. Historical statement once again from the Jonah-Smirke era – or even from earlier, from Jeremy Bentham himself…? (Or from Jonathan Fanshawe post-1831, because so far, with what we learned about him, he had gotten away, and I liked him and I can’t have nice things.) Not necessarily read by Jon; we could switch to Martin again, since Peter had stated that he needed the Institute for his plans, and he had already read Smirke’s letter to Jonah Magnus last time. (… Or it could also be from one of Jon’s three other unnamed victims from season 4 orz)

#1 #2 #3 #4 #5 #mag147 #tma liveblog #tma season 4 #the magnus archives #tma spoilers/#guess who messed up her schedule this week again #and has 'birth of a new witch' on loop #long post/#i'll stop using victorious-but-barely-conscious emoji when i'll manage to not post these at the last moment (sob.)#... ahahahaha posted the night of 6th-7th august so. obligatory. happy... anniversary... tim... *cries in tim*

10 notes · View notes

marshmallow-phd · 6 years

Text

Tangled Web

Genre: Spider-Man!AU

Pairing: Kyungsoo x Reader

Summary: Kyungsoo has been your best friend for years. He knows more about you than even your boyfriend ever could, and is the one you go to first with both good and bad news. When he’s actually around, that is. He’s a man of many secrets, including how he feels about you. As he tries to balance a normal life with superhero duties, he discovers that keeping a secret identity is never easy and can even put the person he cares about most in the world in danger.

Part 1 I Part 2 I Part 3 I Part 4 I Part 5 I Part 6 I Final

header by @xui-n-soowillbethedeathofme

Kyungsoo stumbled back, eyes wide in shock at your declaration. You couldn’t help but giggle at his current state. You also couldn’t blame him considering the little bomb you just dropped on him. And maybe that wasn’t the right way to phrase it, but that was the main thought running through your head.

For a very long time, you’d been aware of exactly why Kyungsoo was always late or canceling plans last minute. Knowing that he was out there, putting himself in danger was the true cause of your frustration with him. But before now, you’d never voiced it.

At first, you simply thought the concern you held onto was because he was your best friend. The bruises and cuts that he always lied about tugged at your heart and you wanted to just force him to sit down while you treated them properly. But that meant acknowledging that you knew there was more to them than just an accidental fall. Keeping the secret not only from everyone else, but from Kyungsoo as well had been hard, but now that you’d realized exactly where your heart was leading you, it impossible not tell him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Kyungsoo said quickly, his telling eyes shifting around the apartment at hyperspeed. Based on the areas he was focusing on, he was probably checking to see if he’d left anything out from his hiding places that you’d found over a years ago.

Rolling your eyes, you stepped forward, fingers grazing the hem of his shirt before tugging up to expose his stomach. “Let me see where he hit you with the bolt.”

Panic stricken, Kyungsoo pushed your hands away. “I’m fine. I don’t know why you think I’m hurt. I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You threw your hands up, not willing to play this game. “Fine. Keep pretending like we both don’t know that you’re Spider-Man. I understand why you didn’t tell me at first, but you could at least acknowledge it now. I’m not an idiot, Kyungsoo, so don’t treat me like one.”

Fed up, you pushed past him, heading for the door. You made it about three feet before a thwip and you were pulled back by something attached to your hip. You were whirled around, landing against Kyungsoo’s chest.

“I am,” he gulped, looking terrified as he stared into your eyes, “Spider-Man.”

You planted a light kiss against his lips. “Yeah, I already know that, silly.”

His eyebrows knit together. “Is that why you like me? As more than a friend? Because I swing around the city in a mask?”

A laugh escaped your throat. “No. Of course not. I think I’ve been in love with you since I met you. I was just too blind to see it.”

“But I’m not Jongin,” he whispered. “I’m not rich or-”

You stopped him with a hand over his mouth. “I don’t care about that or anything else you’re about to say that Jongin has that you don’t or think you don’t. I fell for you because you show that you care and make me a priority. And you’re sweet, kind, handsome, you pay attention, and any girl would be lucky to have you. I’ve decided that I want to be that girl.”

A beautiful, heart shaped smile spread across his face. Resting both of his warm palms against your jaw, he started to lean in towards you. Just before your lips could touch again, he stopped.

“How did you figure it out?”

You scoffed lightheartedly, stepping back just a bit. “Oh, come on, Soo. You’re always disappearing, the mysterious bruises, the fact that you never talk about your day in detail. How could I not put it together?”

Kyungsoo stared at you with that pointed, knowing look. You held out as long as you could, but that lasted about thirty seconds.

“Okay, okay,” you sighed. “I once saw you crawling through the second story window of your aunt’s house a few years ago when I was on my way to visit her. It was definitely obvious once your aunt said she didn’t think you were there yet and then you suddenly came down from your old room.”

“Aw,” Kyungsoo nodded. “And I thought I was better sneaking in through windows.”

“You’re not that slick, Soo.”

The look his face suddenly went from amused to serious. “(y/n), I’ve loved you for a long time, but I don’t want to put in danger. Being Spider-Man is a big part of my life and I don’t want that to throw your’s into chaos. I want you to be safe. And if that means keeping you at arms length… then that’s a sacrifice I’m willing to take. I’m sorry.”

What. An. Idiot.

You punched him in the shoulder. “First of all, I want to date you, Kyungsoo, not Spider-Man. So, I don’t think I’ll be in danger that much considering the rest of the world just thinks you’re a nerdy photographer. And, let’s face it, dating Jongin turned out to be more dangerous. Yet, Spider-Man was the one who saved me. All I’m seeing is perks.”

Kyungsoo shook his head. “No. You saved yourself.”

“Well,” you shrugged, “being a damsel in distress is so two-thousand-two.”

Laughing, Kyungsoo pulled you in, an arm wrapped around your waist before finally kissing you once more.

The night sky was clear and and full of bright stars that not even the city lights could wipe them out. No one else was in this part of the park, giving the two of you enough privacy as you laid on the giant spider’s web that Kyungsoo had spun high in the trees. As you lied on your back, hands acting like a pillow for your head, Kyungsoo stared at you with absolute adoration.

It’d been nearly a year since you confessed to him and he actually was able to call himself yours. It was his favorite title, even above superhero.

He’d never been more thankful for anything in his life. Each and every day was a gift and he never knew what could happen to him, whether just walking down the street as Kyungsoo or fighting the latest villain that plague this city as Spider-Man.

There were times that he complained about nearly everything; the criminals, Dr. Connors, his school work, Mr. Jameson, and anything else he could think of. There were plenty of times when he just wanted to quit.

But you were his rock, his foundation who helped him keep going. You patched him up when he was hurt and made sure that he got plenty of rest and remembered to get to his internship on time. How he lived without you in this capacity before was well beyond him.

So, yes. He was thankful for you and there was nothing that could take you away from him.

“What are you thinking about so hard?” you giggled, turning on your side to face him.

Kyungsoo shrugged. “Just… things in general. Life. You.”

You smiled. “Me?”

He simply nodded.

“Care to share?”

Now he shook his head. He’d save his speech for the future. Perhaps when he was brave enough to ask you to marry him.

You scoffed, shaking your own head. “You know, you’re a lot more talkative as Spider-Man.”

“It’s the mask.”

He braced himself for your playful punches that you usually delivered, but instead, you laid one of your arms across his stomach, scooting in closer to his side. You breathed him in as he slid his own arm underneath you.

“Kyungsoo?”

He looked down at you and smiled. “Yeah?”

You bit your bottom lip. “I love you.”

The air stopped in Kyungsoo’s throat. While you had admitted that day in his apartment that you’d fallen in love with him, you hadn’t quite said those three words to him. Not in this context, at least. There were a few times you’d said something close to it in a joking manner. Hearing it like this made his heart fly.

Unable to hold himself back, he kissed you deeply, shifting so he was now hovering above you, cupping the back of your neck with his hand. He drank you in, taking in the warmth of your skin and the feeling of your lips against his.

Then the sirens went off in the distance.

Reluctantly, he pulled away and sat up.

“I don’t have to go,” he suggested with no heart behind it.

You nudged his shoulder. “Go get ‘em, tiger.”

Shaking his head, he kissed you one last time before pulling on his mask to complete the suit he was already wearing and swung off to save the day. When he was done, he’d come back for you, to help you down before the two of you went back to your shared apartment where he’d hold on to you as he fell asleep. Just like he’d always imagined. But sleep wouldn’t come too easily.

Dr. Seuss said it right: You know you're in love when you can't fall asleep because reality is finally better than your dreams.

And Kyungsoo’s reality was certainly much better than his most vivid dreams.

#exo #exo fanfiction #exo fanfic #exo scenarios #exo series #exo superhero!au #exo superhero au #exo spiderman au #exo spiderman!au #kyungsoo x reader #d.o.#do kyungsoo #marvel #spider-man

195 notes · View notes

kodacast · 7 years

Text

Home

0- The small front yard of a ranch house on Mimosa harbors a pink sign circled with balloons reading “it's a girl” I'm supposed to be arriving home for the first time today, but I am not a pigtails and lollipops kind of girl. I am a horror story. I have eaten nothing my entire existence. My blood sugar drops to 17 and I go limp in my father's arms. Not breathing. My body is gray. Not breathing. A doctor grabs me and shakes me by my ankles. Not breathing. I slowly regain consciousness. Breathing. I remain in the hospital for another week. Upon the day of my arrival, Father’s Day, the Balloons are shriveled and the sign is broken. This is not a beautiful homecoming.

1- My home is all that I know.

2- Sierra is born. I hate her.

3- I stand on my tip tip tippy toes to try to see over the railing of my treehouse. I am the queen of everything I can see, Super 8, La Mexicana, the shining Golden Arches of the Mcdonald's sign, the tiny gas station at the end of my street, and even the stoplight, if I jump I swear I can see Denny's over Super 8, the tallest building in my kingdom. I am the queen of the whole world. I have lived in the same place my whole life and this is all I've ever known.

4- My great grandmother brings me biscuits and gravy from McDonald's every morning. She calls me Dakota baby so I call her Dot Baby. She is my best friend.

5- I have exactly one memory of my grandfather that is actually my own, he is laying on a hospital bed in his living room, my mother, aunt, and grandmother are standing around the bed yelling. I do not know what they are yelling about but my mom says that's probably one of the more pleasant memories she has of him. I will not fully understand this until fourteen.

5- My best friend’s name is Mona. I met her at school. She lives right down the street from me. I started riding the bus to school so I can play with her. She is teaching me words in Arabic. I can say mom, dad, cat, and a bad word Mona says I'm not supposed to say. Mona and I play in my treehouse almost every single day.

6- I have been fascinated by stars for a while now. I've been trying for a week to stay awake later than my parents so I can sneak up into my treehouse perch and stare up at the sky. I finally did it, i'm confused. All the skies I've seen have stars. Stars must live in the country, there are none here. This is the first time I realize that the world is not all that it seems, this will not be the last.

7- My first crush is a boy I met at church. He is one year older than me and he must be the smartest person I know. I want to invite him to my treehouse, but he is in a wheelchair and doesn't like to talk to people. He reads really big books and I like that. He has a broken watch he shakes when he is nervous. I learn that he has autism, that's why he doesn't talk to people, I won't fully understand what that means until nine, I just know he is different.

8- I no longer consider my house a home. I stay up late at night to listen to my parents argue in hushed voices cloaked by darkness in the dead of night, a desperate attempt to conceal the unrest in my house and reassure my sister and I that everything is fine. She is too young to know, it is not fine. I begin to refer to the house on Mimosa as nothing more than a house, my home lies one subdivision over, just across a cornfield, it's my grandma's house, Baby Dot lives there with her. In my home every word is kind and the smell of fresh baked cookies runs free. In my home I am happy.

8- I do not yet have a house key, I do not yet have a phone. When my bus drops me off to an empty house I immediately walk to Mona’s. Her mother is warm and inviting and her sisters accept me like their own. Mona’s house already feels more like a home than my own.

8- I wake up early on cool summer mornings before anyone else is awake. I sneak up into my treehouse home to sit and watch the sunrise without needing permission. The birds chirping around me is the closest to quiet I will find all day. When the sun is up and warm I sneak back into the house and back crawl into bed. This is the best summer I've had.

9- I've started band and made a new friend. She has two autistic brothers. She explains that they have trouble expressing feelings. I finally understand why my first crush couldn't like me back.

9- This is the first summer I have not spent in my treehouse. It is the most boring and empty summer I have ever endured.

9- I want to quit band.

10- La Mexicana is closing. Apparently someone got very drunk and shot a guy in the parking lot. My parents heard it. I would've heard it, but I was too busy hiding from reality in my grandmother's basement surrounded by hundreds of puzzle pieces. I've seen the blood stains and it still doesn't feel real.

10- I want to quit band.

11- In my backyard and there is a tree, short and stocky kinda like me. It is really two trees conjoined at the base with sturdy low hanging branches appropriately named the climbing tree. It is dying. My dad says he's going to cut it down. My sister and I try to stay all night in the tree so he can't cut it. Eventually we fall asleep. My dad carries us into the house so he can cut down our tree in the morning, my sister and I spent a long time mourning that tree.

11- Baby Dot’s health is declining. We are going on vacation. I do not want to go. I'm told to say goodbye to her because we may not meet again. I do not want her to go. My great grandmother died while I was in Santa Claus Indiana. My parents hid it from me for three days. We had to cut our miserable trip short to attend her funeral. I did not want to go.

11- I hate my mother. She is ripping my family apart. The house on Mimosa is still just a house. Mona and I can’t be friends anymore. My relationship with my grandmother is strained due to my declining interest in religion. My home is crumbling.

11- I want to quit band.

12- It's been three years since I climbed the long ladder to my treehouse. The roof is gone and the floor buckles under the stress of both my sister and I. I climb back down the ladder wearing defeat and a bathing suit. This is when I realized the world is not made for me.

12- I want to quit band.

13- My grandmother learned to text so she could remind me to bring my walking shoes. We take evening walks around her neighborhood. She wants me to be thin. She is ashamed of me. She needs to get me in shape so she can marry me off in a few years. This is the first time I realize my grandmother is not my friend and I cease to call her house home.

13- I want to quit band.

14- My mother has depression. My mother had four miscarriages before I was born. My mother was abused as a child by her father. My mother let me hate her for years because she is ashamed of her illness, of her past.

14- Band is my home.

15- Band is my family.

16- I drive a truck named Maurice. He is the place I feel most at home. Driving down the road with no real place to go. I feel no attachment to my house, it is just a house, I feel no attachment to my city it is just a city. My attachment to my family is waning, they are, people. Maurice can go anywhere I go. He is my home.

16- Looking back I'm realizing I didn't have a lot of childhood friends. I have a little sister. She's all I've ever needed. All I've ever wanted. I didn't know that I needed her when we were young, But now I'd be lost without her.

16- I sat up in my treehouse yesterday to see what I can see, my new neighbors have two kids, the girl is five the boy is three, the golden arches still remain, hotels off in the distance seem so much closer than before. There is a tiny Redbud barely taller than me in the place where my climbing tree used to be. Tree limbs grow around and inside my house, the telescope still stands but spiders now use it more than I ever did. The treehouse shakes in the wind, wooden boards rotting, my home is falling to pieces.

16- I perpetually say that I want to go home. I'm really not sure where that is yet. My house is not a home. This city means nothing to me, and the older I get the more flaws I see in my grandmother's house. I can't live in my car forever. Maybe home is just a feeling. Feelings are temporary.

17 months until they are a group of 3 again. Maybe my sister can finally find home.

17- I think home is where your heart is, only my heart is struck with wanderlust. Sick and stricken with pain and guilt that I just can't live like this anymore, stationary. My roots are slowly suffocating me.

18 - There are nine days until I move into my dorm room, I am excited and terrified, but still mostly excited. I am excited to spend the next four years searching for a home in a new state. I do not know if I want my home to be a place or a person, but I know that I am ready.

#poetry #poem #mine #home #school #high school #school assignment #writing contest #scholarships #child abuse #abuse #death #eating disorders #ed

2 notes · View notes

whalefucker69 · 7 years

Text

11 Questions Tag Game

I was tagged by @onedamnminuteadmiral who now has a whale url, which reminds me of how I have “whalefucker69″ saved because of senior year when I wrote my 20 page term paper on Moby Dick.

1.What is the coolest vehicle you’ve ever driven/ridden in?

Well, okay, so my grandfather was a fighter pilot right, then he was a pilot for continental when the war ended, and after he retired he built his own little 2 seater plane (being extra runs in the family I guess). He sold it a few years ago but when I was like 10 or 11 he would take me up in it and let me take control once we were high enough up that it wouldn’t be a big danger.

2. Do you believe in the paranormal? Ever had any weird experiences?

I definitely don’t. The most paranormal experiences I’ve had are when I sometimes hallucinate spiders crawling on the walls and ceiling when I’m falling asleep.

3. Describe your ideal climate.

Temperature in the 90s but low humidity; like the Texas hill country. I like the cold for the ability to wear fun jackets, but I could survive on Vulcan no problem.

4. What is your favorite thing to do with friends?

Probably just watch stupid movies/TV, honestly. My roommates and I just watched the season finale of Bachelor in Paradise which is a surprisingly okay show. I also like cooking for people.

5. What do you think is your best quality?

Can I pass? It’s hard for me to think of things I like about myself without instantly turning them into things I don’t like.

6. If you could mash up two of your favorite TV shows, what would you mash up, and what would the resulting show be like? (For instance, Galavant and Star Trek, a space-faring musical farce that makes fun of the genre of sci-fi. Sorry if I stole yours. I think about this a lot.)

Hohohohoho, have I told you about the X files/fringe/twin peaks inspired Star Trek AU I had planned like all through high school? The main conceit was that Jim was a navy pilot who had been suddenly called back stateside for a “promotion” that he was very unhappy about because he saw it as a boring desk job that would keep him from flying. It turns out he was being assigned to basically lead a top secret operation codenamed enterprise that would track down paranormal activity localized in this small town in the northwest. So he ends up recruiting this ragtag team of military and civilian scientists and other personnel, and they have sort of monster-of-the-week adventures. The main overarcing plot would have Spock and Scotty basically invent warp drive, which would set up a chain of events with Spock discovering a government conspiracy (basically America wants to weaponize the rudimentary warp core) so the only way he sees to get out of the situation is to basically destroy all of the research and lead a trail of fake evidence so everyone thinks that he’s betrayed the enterprise team and gets him labeled as a terrorist. So then Jim ofc takes this personally and asks to be in charge of the team sent to track him down and bring him in, so it becomes a sort of international spy thriller with a lot of heated scenes where Jim just barely misses Spock and there’s a lot of chess metaphors as Jim sort of tries to figure out wtf happened and Spock is terrified because he knows that if anyone is smart enough to figure it out it’s Jim, but if Jim finds out he’ll be in the same danger. I don’t remember how I’d planned for it to end, but it definitely involved first contact with Vulcan (they had picked up on the warp tests). The last scene would involve Jim approaching Spock at the end some sort of official party and basically saying “So it’s super classified but the UN is putting together funds to build a starship and they want me to command it so I need a science officer and you have like 16 PhDs so you’re obviously the logical choice, our personal history nonwithstanding” and them basically agreeing to start over and try to move on after all the deceit.

7. Do you have any original characters? Tell me about one of them! If not, tell me about your favorite character from your favorite piece of media.

Okay so my main D&D character right now is a dragonborn warlock named Kashira Alazir. She grew up the heir of a family of honor-driven royals in charge of a sort of city-state in a larger empire. She spent all her life training to be the smartest and the strongest heir she could be, training in combat, tactics, politics, etc, but after her younger brother manifested as a sorcerer he was immediately declared the new heir because of his magic. She spent months trying to study to be a wizard, but never made any progress, so she eventually made a pact with a devil to gain magical abilities. She told herself this was for her family, since her irresponsible brother wouldn’t be a good ruler, but in reality she was just bitter. When her family found out they exiled her because making deals with demons is like, super fucking illegal. Now she’s just sad and lonely, wandering the continent trying to find a cause she can fight for to regain her honor and return to her family.

8. If you could switch places with one person for one day, who would you switch with?

Is “any astronaut currently working on the ISS” an option?

9. Are you a neat or a messy person?

Neat. I used to be messy but at this point I clean all the fucking time because “messy” has become synonymous with “depression” in my head so I’m terrified if I slip up at all I’ll fall apart. It’s the same thing with my grades, honestly.

10. What do you do when you need to relax?

I run 2 miles every morning, and sometimes I go for walks at like 2am to just.. breathe you know.

11. Tell me something not a lot of people know about you! <3

I say I’m over Doctor Who but last week my roommates were watching a movie starring David Tennant and I almost started crying because his face and voice are so nostalgic for me. Did you know he’s been cast as Crowley in the new Good Omens series? I’m a little disappointed they cast well known british actors for the main roles (I would’ve preferred unknowns for A&C, then big names for supporting roles like the did in the American Gods show) but if they had to choose one of the big British names, I’m glad it’s someone I unironically love.

I’m tagging @morganzephyr @10-screaming-horse-figurines @yogdad @leggdad @bradh2os and anyone who wants to do this.

My questions:

1. What time did you wake up this morning?

2. If you could be anywhere in the world right now, where would you go?

3. If you could live in any fictional universe (but like, as a normal person and not the protagonist), which would you choose?

4. What’s a band/show/etc that you loved as a kid and still love?

5. If you could kill someone and face no consequences, would you do it? If yes, who?

6. How many people have you slept with in the same bed all crammed together? What size bed was it?

7. If you had to be stranded on a desert island/planet/etc and you could have only one person with you, who would it be?

8. What fictional character would make the best roommate?

9. If you could relive your life starting at like age 10, and have the chance to redo your mistakes, would you do it?

10. If work/school/etc wasn’t an issue, when would you go to sleep and wake up?

11. What position/blanket arrangement do you sleep with?

#ask meme #long post

4 notes · View notes

mediocrereview · 7 years

Text

The Homecoming Phenomenon

By Simple Cash

“Hey everyone”.

When Captain America: Civil War was coming out, I wasn’t aware of the whole Marvel-Sony deal and the inclusion of Spider-Man into the MCU. It wasn’t until a friend showed me the trailer that I found out. One line, he had one line in the trailer and it made me more excited than anything else. Since that day, I had been waiting for a standalone Spider-Man movie to be announced. I felt like me 6 year old overweight self watching Spider-Man cartoons in the living room with my homemade (and pretty lame) Spider-Man costume, pretending to shoot webs at my stuffed animals and pretending to crawl walls on my kitchen floor.

Bottom line is, as a kid, my favorite superhero was Spider-Man. As an adult, my favorite superhero is Spider-Man. But, what exactly is it that makes him so great? Is it the fact that he is relatable? Is it his intellect, his goofiness, his sense of moral?

I remember looking forward all day to catch the animated show, and I remember the excitement I felt when the original Spider-Man movie came out. That excitement was matched when Homecoming was announced, and there began one of the longest waits of my life.

Before we go any further, I will make it clear that there may (and will be) minor spoilers, so take that into consideration before reading any further. Consider this your spoiler alert!

Tom Holland is Peter Parker. No, I mean, he really is. This is by far, in my opinion, the most faithful incarnation our favorite web slinger has had. Sure, the Sam Raimi trilogy and Marc Webb’s Amazing Spider-Man nailed Peter Parker in a lot of ways, but I humbley believe this is the ultimate version of Peter Parker.

The opening scene introduces us to Adrian Toomes, owner of a cleaning crew incharge of cleaning up after the Battle of New York. Not long enough, a group of the DODC (Department of Damage Control) notificate Adrian that his services will no longer be needed, and that all cleaning up is now on them. Adrian explains that he has invested a lot of money on this company, and that his workers and himself have families to look after. This, however, falls upon deaf ears.

At this point, is that things are different from most superhero movies. I felt bad for the guy, I mean, I guess it’s something we can all relate to. He is just a man, struggling for his family and for himself, and that drives him into a life of crime. Justified? Perhaps not, but understandable nevertheless.

Cut to 8 years later, we are presented with vLogs from a young Peter Parker that has been recruited by Tony Stark. Peter explains that he is going to Berlin with Happy Hogan, but he doesn’t really know what the mission is. We then see Peter in his homemade suit talking in front of a mirror. Happy bursts in, telling him to go get the case. In Peter’s hotel room, a silver case with a note from Tony Stark sits on a table. You guessed right; the case contains the now iconic Stark Industries Spider suit.

We then cut to another Peter Parker vLog, this time during the Airport battle from CA:CW. Three months later, we see Peter back in school. What I really liked about this part, is that we see Peter eager to take on new missions and impress Tony, but he only goes around doing small tasks like helping people find addresses (being rewarded with churros. Is it really that bad? I wouldn’t mind some free churros…)

At the beginning of this post I mentioned briefly that Peter Parker is a character one can easily relate to; he’s a high school boy, trying to balance his life. Sure, a huge part of his life consists of being a masked hero and ruining his life, but it is a universal theme.

This movie has by far the most hatable version of Flash Thompson. He’s a wealthy kid that bullies Peter, but not in a physical way. I really liked that Flash bullied Peter by calling him names and trying to make his life difficult rather than physically intimidating him because this is a problem, and shouldn’t be overlooked as “playing” around.

Peter’s best friend, Ned, made me eat my words. Based on the trailers, I was under the impression that he would be an annoying character with no contribution to the film, but boy was I wrong. More than that annoying “but you are a kid” line from the trailer, Ned represents that friend we all need: that guy that’s there for you, that accepts you the way you are and that helps you keep your feet on the ground. He is, by far, one of the funniest and most lovable characters in the movie.

Oh, one thing I almost forgot to talk about was the Shocker. We actually get two different Shockers in the movie. A couple of months back when the cast list was revealed, this confused many, including myself. Well, maybe it wouldn’t have been necessary to cast two different actors to play the Shocker, but then again, clumsy old Vulture can’t tell the difference between an anti gravitational cannon and, ehm, something else.

We don’t see too much from Logan Marshall-Green, a.k.a Shocker #1, and I don’t think it was necessary. He is killed off incidentally by the Vulture when he threatens to reveal his plans after he is kicked out of the Vulture’s crew for being too irresponsible and jeopardizing his operation. The second Shocker, however, Bokeem Woodbine, is a more mature and responsible Shocker, and I really enjoyed his performance.

I am, however, slightly disappointed that we didn’t get to see a masked version of the Shocker, but then again, I kinda saw it coming based on the trailers and the LEGO “Beware the Vulture” set (which I will review later on). You win some, you lose some, but it’s nothing too important in my opinion.

While we’re talking about costumes, I loved the design for Vulture. While many were upset, wanting a more comic accurate version for his suit, I am happy they didn’t go that way. Let’s face it, we wouldn’t (or at least I wouldn’t) be able to take Michael Keaton seriously as a villain if he was flying around in feathery green tights now, would we? The whole aviator-like feel to the suit is marvelous, and it makes sense. If someone were to actually become a criminal under the name the Vulture, my best guess is that he would go that way costume wise. Plus, it’s terrifying, intimidating and all around badass.

Some of us were concerned that Homecoming would essentially be “Iron Man 4”, and while it may be true that Robert Downy Jr’s Tony Stark plays an important role in the movie, he is far from being the center of the spotlight. Tony plays a father figure for Peter, and he even says that he is trying to show support to him and trying to “break the cycle”. Iron man does show up a couple of times throughout the movie, saving a drowning Spider-Man from after his first encounter with Vulture and again during Spider-Man’s second fight with Vulture in the ferry.

I really liked Iron Man’s MK47 from the trailers, and man did it look good onscreen! But what I liked the most about Iron Man is definitely the way he looked after Peter, sermoning him when necessary to make sure he became the best he could be.

With the inclusion of Donald Glover’s Aaron Davis, a whole new world could be opening before our eyes. During his talk with Spider-Man, Davis addresses that he “has a nephew” who lives in town. This nephew he refers to is of course Miles Morales, who takes on the mantle of Spider-Man after Peter Parker’s death in the Ultimate series. Now, I really like Miles but I hope he doesn’t become THE Spider-Man, at least not for now. Tom Holland delivered such an amazing Peter Parker that it would be a waste not to have him being the wall crawler at least for a couple (or a hundred thousand) more movies.

Homecoming is a great film, and you should watch it. Wether you are or not a superhero fan, you will definitely enjoy this movie and what it has to offer. It sets a new standard for superhero movies, and balances out perfectly comic book faithfulness and modern ideas to deliver a perfectly crafted masterpiece.

If you don’t believe me, go see for yourself what is making everyone crazy about Spider-Man right now. Maybe it is the air of nostalgia, maybe it is wanting to reconnect with your childhood self. Maybe it’s everything, but you’ll never find out if you don’t take the leap.

#spiderman #spider-man #movies #homecoming #spider-man homecoming #tom holland

1 note · View note

rebeccathewinterqueen · 4 years

Text

Awakening: Jiro the Jorogumo

Title: Awakening (The Samaya Court Book 1)

Characters: Yuugi Mutou, Jounouchi Katsuya, Anzu Mazaki, Miho Nosaka, Honda Hiroto, Officer Junsar, Eevee, Spinarak, Jiro the Jorogumo (Prisoner 777)

Fandoms: Yu-Gi-Oh! and Pokemon

A/N: Sorry this is late. I got stuck on how to write this chapter. Couple things: First, this took an unexpectedly dark turn. Trigger warning for a Pokemon's death. Second, the first major deviation in canon. If you aren't familiar with Season 0 or the manga, you may not recognize it. Also, a fun fact: In the manga it is Prisoner 777 who escapes, and he’s never given a name. In Season 0, this character is split into two characters: Tetsu the Hedgehog and Jiro the Jorogumo. This always seemed odd to me, so I made Tetsu (Prisoner 777) Jiro the Jorogumo and returned it to just one character.

Read Chapter 4: Megumi-chan here

The restaurant staff were very kind about letting them bring Megumi inside with them, as long as she didn’t try to jump up on the table. They ordered drinks and fries to share and settled into a booth near the door—Yuugi really wanted to try one of their hamburgers because they already had such a great reputation, but his mother would kill him if he ruined his dinner. Though he did order her a hamburger and picked off the bun so she could eat with them.

Yuugi leaned back against the booth, the Millennium Puzzle a comforting weight against his chest, and smiled. It was good. His friends laughed and joked and traded cards and they knew about Megumi now, so she was included. Could be included from then on. The Puzzle had really granted his wish in every possible way—he and Anzu had truly reconnected, and he had new friends in the way of Jou, Honda, Miho, and Megumi. He had friends he could count on. Happiness bubbled in his chest, and the Puzzle felt warm even through his shirt.

After they had finished off the fries, they all settled back in their seats. Megumi was curled into a ball under the table, right between Yuugi and Miho’s feet, working in a post-meal nap. The restaurant door slid open to admit yet another customer. They should probably go soon, Yuugi thought. It was almost time for the dinner rush.

A commanding voice made Yuugi turn, curiosity getting the better of him. A tall, stern-looking man in a brown overcoat was talking to BurgerWorld’s manager, flanked by two police officers. The man in the brown jacket looked familiar. Yuugi frowned, trying to remember where it was he had seen him—ah, the news! That was it. He had seen the man on the news. He was the chief of police. But what was he doing here, Yuugi wondered.

The manager nodded and stepped back. The three police officers turned to look at the half-full dining room and the chief stepped forward.

“If I may have your attention, please,” he called, his voice calm and clear. “We are searching for a suspect who was last seen in this area. The suspect sustained a leg injury. I must ask you all to sit with your legs facing the aisle so we may search for this suspect.”

It seemed odd, Yuugi decided, that they were going about it this way. He almost wanted to say no just on principle. But the other customers didn’t seem to have much problem with it…he looked at his friends, his discomfort mirrored in their expressions.

“Bad idea to tell them no,” Anzu murmured.

“Yeah, I guess,” Jou sighed. He looked distinctly unhappy, though. “We should spread out a bit.”

Yuugi nodded and slid out of his seat. He was on the end of one booth, while Jou had been directly across from him, so they moved to the booth next to theirs so the officers would have an easier time searching. The sooner this was over with, the happier they would all be, Yuugi thought.

The officer that approached them was a young woman with hair so dark it appeared blue. Yuugi had no idea if it was natural or dyed like his. She smiled at him as she checked, probably to take the edge off an already tense situation, Yuugi thought.

“Thank you for your cooperation,” she said, before moving on to the next booth.

The only hiccup in the search was a loudly-dressed young man near the back of the diner, his feet propped up on the table top, hands locked behind his neck.

“Sir, please cooperate,” the manager begged him. “You cannot have your feet on the table—it’s a health violation, we could be shut down!”

“Why should I care?” the man snorted, grinning sharply. His jacket was bright red, his head was covered by an equally brightly-colored beanie, and he wore sunglasses even though they were inside.

“Sir, if you would be so kind as to put your feet down, we can continue our search and move on,” one officer said, her voice polite but still firm. It was the officer who had searched them, Yuugi realized.

“And what’re you gonna do if I don’t?” the man said, sneering at her. He didn’t move.

She pursed her lips and propped one hand on her hip…then smiled. “What’s the matter?” she asked slyly. “You aren’t hiding anything, are you? Because right now you’re interfering with a police investigation, and we’re trying very hard to capture a very dangerous man. You saw the prison escape in the newspaper? Jiro the Jorogumo? It’s him we’re looking for. And if you don’t want to be searched, that just means you’re hiding something. Like a bruise. Should we take you to the station?” The man froze, mouth slackening. “No? So let me tell you how this goes—first, you put your feet down, like a civilized person. Next, you lift your pant legs so we can check for a bruise. If you don’t, I have to assume you’re hiding something and take you in.” She leaned forward slightly, eyes hard. “Got it?”

“Fine, you insufferable bitch,” the man snarled, slamming his feet onto the ground.

“My name is Officer Junsar,” she said sharply, her smile dropping away. “You’ll remember it.” She nodded at his legs. “Now, lift your pant legs. Please.”

“String Shot.”

“What—?”

Something scuttled out from under the hem of the man’s jacket, something green and with too many legs, and shot a thick white streamer at Officer Junsar’s face with an odd hiss. She barely got her arms up in time to block it, but it still wrapped around her arms, shoulders, and head. She flailed, but the rope-like substance didn’t break.

It crawled onto the table, where it was more easily seen, and customers started screaming.

“What is this?” The police chief turned. He wasn’t fast enough to avoid the green spider, which immediately set about entangling him and the other officer.

Not a spider, Yuugi thought numbly, heart thudding in his chest. A spinarak. He recognized the markings on the large green body from a teaser in a magazine about the upcoming expansion. The artwork had made it look almost cute, but in reality it was way too spider-like—!

And how were the police supposed to even deal with this? Less than a minute, and all three were completely disabled and incapable of reaching their guns.

The stranger grabbed Officer Junsar’s gun with one hand and her upper arm with the other, shoving her down. She hit the floor with a dull thud. He fired into the ceiling. “Everybody on the ground, now!”

Yuugi froze, only moving when Jou grabbed his collar and tugged at him. He lowered himself slowly down next to his friend, eyes wide. He could just see Megumi, still under their original table, crouched in a shadowy corner. Clearly the noise and commotion had spooked her. She looked at him and started to go over to him, belly so low her fur swept the ground, but he shook his head, making her pause.

“Today’s a good day,” the man boasted. He laughed, gun still pointed up, and walked down the aisle. “Got a drop on the police and everything!” The spinarak clicked its pincers together. “Let’s see, now…” Heavy boots stopped in front of Yuugi’s face. “You, short stack. Get up.”

He started to push himself carefully upright, keeping his eyes fixed on the ground. There was a muffled squeak somewhere next to him.

“What’s the matter, girlie?” Please don’t let it be Miho or Anzu, Yuugi prayed. He glanced over and swallowed a groan; Anzu had Miho’s hand slapped over her mouth. “Don’t like him getting the attention?” The man grabbed Anzu and dragged her upright. “Don’t worry, cutie. Your friend is gonna bring us a couple drinks, and then we can get to know each other.” He pointed the gun carelessly at Yuugi. “Go to the kitchen and bring me back the strongest vodka they have. I wanna celebrate my good fortune.” When Yuugi didn’t immediately move, he glared. “What are you waiting for, an engraved invitation? Scram!”

Yuugi fled to the kitchen, his heart pounding in his chest. What should he do now? He was fairly confident that Megumi could take on that spinarak, but that guy had a gun. He could shoot her before either of them made a move. And the spinarak stacked things in his favor, as well, since he could now incapacitate anyone who got too close.

He quickly found a tray and the alcohol. Right now his best option seemed to be to play along…but he didn’t particularly like that, either. The terrified look on Anzu’s face flashed in front of his eyes, and he felt sick. What to do, what to do—

Somewhere between that thought and reaching for the bottle of Everclear, his vision went black.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

He woke up in completely unfamiliar surroundings. He looked around, frowning. Everything was shiny metal and there were several bottles of alcohol in front of him. He poked at Yuugi’s most recent thoughts and scowled.

Yuugi and his friends had gone out—what on Earth was a BurgerWorld?—and someone with a weapon was holding everyone hostage. And a spinarak, he amended. The spinarak would be more of a problem than the gun, to be honest—he could use shadow magic to jam it, whereas Pokemon had always been somewhat resistant to direct damage from spells. But Megumi was also there, so she could probably take care of it. He made a note to cast a diagnostic spell the next time he had Megumi to himself—if his hikari had a habit of attracting trouble, Megumi would be able to keep him safe, but they would need to know what she was capable of.

No wonder his hikari had been so worked up, though. The man had picked Anzu to “get to know,” on top of the hold-up and having a gun pointed at him. Yuugi had a soft spot for her, the type that came from knowing someone a long time and having them be your closest non-familial relationship.

Well then, he decided, he would fix that. He picked up the bottle he had woken up reaching for—the label said it was “Everclear,” what was that? A brand of vodka, but what was that?—and set it carefully on the tray, along with a shot glass. He turned his thoughts on what to do, thinking through his options lightning-fast—should he call a Shadow Game? The Shadows shivered in delight at the possibility. But would it be safer to just call a battle? There were so many witnesses, after all, who would have no idea what Shadow Magic was. Maybe make the battle a Shadow Game? Not ideal; the Shadows were unpredictable at best when it came to Pokemon.

Actually, maybe his original thought was the best one. He picked the tray up carefully and carried it out, trying not to let the bottle wobble too much. He didn’t want to provoke the man—Jiro the Jorogumo, according to the paper Yuugi had read—into doing something drastic just because the bottle fell and broke.

Jiro was sitting in a booth, scowling in his direction when he walked out, one arm resting on the table while the other, the one that held the gun, was slung around Anzu’s shoulders. She sat at the end of the bench, hunched in on herself, her eyes covered in a sticky layer of Spinarak’s webbing. He wrinkled his nose slightly—he remembered having it catch in his hair during a training session, remembered how it had pulled and someone finally ended up cutting it out (who? When? Where?).

He set the tray on the table. Jiro’s lips twisted into a snarl. “The hell took you so long, pipsqueak?”

Anzu looked up. “Yuugi?”

“You requested the strongest vodka the restaurant carried.” He slid into the bench opposite them. “It took a moment to find it.”

Anzu’s face twisted in confusion at his voice. Did he really sound so different from his hikari? He had never heard the boy’s voice for himself, so he didn’t know. “You’re not…”

“Shut up, girl,” Jiro growled. “What are you doing, beansprout?”

“I wanted to talk to you.” He tilted his head, ignoring the pathetically weak insult. “You seem interesting.” His Shadows laughed at the blatant lie, sparking an almost alien amusement in his belly, but the insect didn’t seem to notice. Hm. He knew the Shadows had been locked away with him, but had it really been so long that no one had any kind of sensitivity to them? How long must that take?

“If you got something to say, then spit it out and leave.”

He glanced at Jiro’s gun. A Shadow rose up and wrapped around it, stuffing itself into various crevices and thickening into an almost glue-like substance, brushing Anzu’s arm in the process. She shivered at the brief contact. Interesting. He sent another to brush against Megumi, tugging her at gently until he had her attention.

“You have a spinarak.”

“A—what?” Jiro shook his head and snapped, “What about it?”

He held Jiro’s attention completely, using a just a touch of Shadow Magic to make what he was saying irresistible to listen to. Megumi crawled forward. He glanced at her, then flicked his eyes to the spinarak that sat on the back of Jiro’s booth.

“Do you know what someone is called when they train a Pokemon for battle?” Jiro cautiously shook his head. “The term, once upon a time, was ‘beast master,’ but I believe the modern game calls them ‘trainers.’ Do you know what happens when two trainers meet?” Another head shake, and he smirked. “Their Pokemon battle.”

“Veeee!” Megumi took the hint and threw herself at the spinarak. Several of the patrons screamed, including Anzu, who ducked down.

“The hell?!” Jiro ducked, then straightened and leveled the gun at his face. “Now you fucking die!” He cocked the gun.

Or tried. He smiled as Jiro tried again and again, the insect’s face slowly sliding from rage to horror. He slid from his seat, took Anzu’s hand, and tugged her up. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Like hell you’re leaving!” The insect grabbed her, pulling her back, and smashed the handle of the gun toward his face. He leaned away from the sloppily-executed move, but it still forced him to let Anzu go. She flailed her arms to get her balance, hitting Jiro in the face. He steadied her and pulled her out of the insect’s reach.

A glance toward Megumi showed she was doing alright—not exactly well, she didn’t seem to have any battle experience at all, but instinct had her dealing as much damage as she received, at least. And, judging by the splotches of web on the floor, she was managing to dodge at least some of the attacks, but she was tiring; she was panting and her movements were slower.

“Are you alright?” he murmured, leading her a bit further away. Anzu nodded, cheeks reddening. He fought the urge to cringe and hoped she wouldn’t turn out to be one of those simpering girls who always—he mentally snorted when the memory cut off. Eventually, he would have to investigate that—every time he got close to remembering something, anything more concrete than the vague thoughts that popped up automatically, it disappeared. “Let’s go—”

Of course, the insect wasn’t about to give up. Apparently having realized the gun wasn’t going to work, Jiro had abandoned it on the table and launched himself at them, swinging for his face.

The hit connected, and all he saw was darkness.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Yuugi stumbled back, his ears ringing. A few moments later and his face started to throb. Anzu screamed from next to him—he looked to make sure she was alright, and it looked like she had hit another table pretty hard.

What had happened? The last thing he remembered was being in the kitchen, getting the vodka. But now he was in the dining room. He yelped and dodged the next hit almost automatically, his experiences with bullies fueling his reaction.

“Hold still, shrimp,” Jiro snarled, chasing after him. “Shouldn’t’ve played the fucking hero, brat!”

Yuugi’s breaths were fast and shallow, his chest too tight, too tight! Darkness ate at the edges of his vision, and he shook his head to clear it. “I don’t know what you’re talking about—”

“Shut up!”

The darkness swallowed him whole.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

He hissed as his eyes opened back up, his right cheek aching, just in time to dodge another hit. Like hell was he going to let Yuugi face this insignificant insect!

Still, insects were capable of biting, as this one proved, even if ultimately they were only a mere annoyance. He narrowed his eyes. The best way to deal with a biting insect, much like the bug-type Pokemon that sometimes attacked the fields, was with fire.

He dodged the next attack and, his body acting before he could consciously decide his next move, shoved Jiro backwards at the same time he swept the insect’s feet out from under him. The man landed in a pile of webbing left behind from Megumi and Spinarak’s battle. Jiro struggled to get upright, his face twisted with fury, cursing him with every horrible name and misfortune he could think of, but it held Jiro fast, covering his back and arms and holding like glue.

The Shadows hissed and snapped, a reflection of his own fury at Jiro’s attacks. They were hungry—Ushio’s punishment was entirely psychological and hadn’t allowed them to feed—and this man was a danger to him. Their fury deepened his own until it ate at him, leaving him trembling, but he still held back.

He is a danger, they insisted, displeased with his hesitance.

We are angry that he attacked you, our lord, they whispered, snapping in Jiro’s direction.

We are so very hungry, they whined pitifully, brushing against him like a begging purrloin.

“Insects like you deserve to burn,” he hissed. Feed, he told them, finally relenting. Burn his soul away. Slick, dark gratitude rose in his chest, a reflection of his Shadows’.

A multitude of Shadows, each tinted a different color, rose and engulfed the trapped man, worming their way in through eyes and ears and nose and mouth. Jiro gagged, briefly able to feel them just because of the sheer volume, before taking a deep, ragged breath.

Then the insect started to scream.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Yuugi’s vision cleared, and he stumbled, this time from the sheer overwhelming feeling of exhaustion. His vision was blurry.

“Help!”

He shook his head to clear it, vaguely remembering having to do that earlier. His face ached. He reached up to touch his right cheek, hissing when pain flared under his fingers.

“I’m on fire! Help me, someone, please!”

His eyes snapped to the man who was screaming—Jiro, who was lying on the floor, thrashing. He seemed stuck.

Yuugi stumbled backward. The man wasn’t on fire, didn’t even look singed, but his screams and desperate pleas made him feel sick. He needed to-to—he looked around desperately, searching for something or someone who could help. Muffled cursing drew his attention to Officer Junsar, who was still wrapped in webbing, and he rushed over to her, helping tear the webs away.

“Officer Junsar!” Once he had gotten some of it off, she was able to tear through the rest herself.

She looked at him, then at the screaming, twitching form of Jiro. “Kid, what happened?”

Yuugi flinched. “I don’t know.”

“Yuugi!”

Anzu grabbed him in a hug. She still had traces of web on her face, around her eyes, and a few gummed-up strands of hair, but she didn’t seem to care about that.

“Was that you?” she whispered, as Officer Junsar stood to check on Jiro. He was vaguely aware of her calling for an ambulance.

“Was what me?” he whispered back. His stomach twisted.

She never got a chance to answer. The others ran to them, and she didn’t seem to want to ask with them there. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know, either.

“Wh-where’s Megumi?” he asked, eyes widening when she didn’t come out from under the table.

“I think she jumped that spinarak,” Jou told him grimly. He nodded to a space past Jiro and Officer Junsar.

The eevee stood, panting, over the spinarak. Her fur was dirty, and a particularly bad cut dripped blood down her leg, leaving a thin trail across the floor, tracing the path of their battle haphazardly down the aisle.

The spinarak laid on its back, its remaining six legs curled inward, covered in scuffs, dents, and scratches. One detached leg lay in the middle of the floor, while another poked out from under a table, and its head was partially separated from its body.

He stumbled over to her, his legs refusing to work properly, and carefully picked her up. He wanted to be sick. He wanted to run away screaming. He wanted to cry.

He petted her carefully, running one hand over her to find any other major wounds that might be hidden by her fur. She slumped against his chest, clearly exhausted and hurting, and he fought back the sob that threatened to break free.

In the game you fought until your opponent was unconscious, and there were even cards that could revive your teammate to fight again. It was always specified in the rule book—unconsciousness. He had thought, somewhere in the back of his head, that if Megumi had to fight it would be the same way. Fight to unconsciousness. Wake up and heal and fight another day.

But this…he hadn’t expected this. Fighting to unconsciousness clearly wasn’t the default, and he could tell very well why she had ripped her opponent apart like that. He wasn’t a fool; he had seen the placement of some of the cuts and felt the others, all in areas that were vital—several around her neck and along her spine, and a shallow cut on her belly.

He almost lost her, and he didn’t want that to happen again.

#yugioh #pokemon #yugioh fanfiction #pokemon fanfiction #yuugi mutou #jounouchi katsuya #honda hiroto #anzu mazaki #miho nosaka #eevee #spinarak #prisoner 777 #officer junsar #awakening fanfic #the samaya court #tw dead animal

0 notes

sargent-art · 7 years

Text

Story #2

This is a story about a basic high school Junior named Drew and his friends. Most of his friends went to a different school, but he had three that he spent most of his time with; Lucia and Ellison, They rode the bus together and had a few classes together, but besides that, they didn’t spend much time together. Every once and awhile they would go see a horror movie or something, and last weekend they saw the infamous “IT” by Stephen King. Drew had a phobia of clowns, so he was slightly nervous about the movie but wasn’t about to show that to his friends.

Chapter 1

The movie hadn’t bothered him afterward, but then about a week later he found himself checking over his shoulder more than usual. At first, it wasn't that bad; he got a little spooked from time to time by weird noises in the area ( it happens to everyone ... probably). But as he spent a lot of time alone it started to get to him more and more. Whenever there was a closet or a dark room nearby, he would imagine a clown, spider, or even just a shadow coming towards him. It often happened when he had to walk out to his car in the morning. He woke up early, so it was always pitch black when he left, and he hated every second of it. He imagined scenario after scenario of horrifying things that could happen to him at any moment. They would come from every angle in every direction. Every time he lost himself too much into his imagination he would take a deep breath and pretend like everything was fine and watched some Netflix or played music in his car to get his mind off of it.

“I know there’s not going to be anything there, but I can't help but check anyway. But if I check and there is something what should I do? Run out of my car? No, that just leads to more danger. Stay in the car? But what about the thing in the car, did you forget? Ok, so if there is a terrifying, dangerous thing in my back seat both leaving the car and staying in it would be a bad option… Great. Just take a deep breath and try and think about something else.” He thought to himself over and over again till his brain wandered to something else.

After a while, he had gotten so paranoid that he wasn’t sleeping, and when he didn’t sleep, they got worse. Everything was against him. But it wasn’t because there was nothing there! What could you do when your imagination is against you?

Drew thought about this for a very long time. He decided to sit down and draw everything he imagined. Drew had started art recently and tried to practice when he could. He loved art, but he never seemed to be any good. Everyone had been telling him that “Everyone starts out bad!” and he tried to listen and practice as much as he could to get better but it always seemed out of reach.

As he drew, his pencil strokes started to scratch out a rough sketch, which began to become something more. As he went his imagination started to become a reality and he started drawing faster and faster, you could see that cogs crashing against each other in his mind.

He looked up, took a deep breath, and looked down. There staring straight back at him was a smiling Pennywise. I looked pretty good to him if he did say so himself (and he did).

Chapter 2

Lucia spent most of her time playing piano, doing homework or just watching Netflix. She watched Netflix a LOT. She had just been dumped for the second time by a boy named Tyler, so she tried to keep her mind off it with Grey’s anatomy and Bob’s burgers. Hanging out with friends was another one of her distractions, so she was all for going to see “IT” homecoming night.

After the movie, she went home, sat on the couch and waited for her parents to yell at her for going out. They told her that she couldn't go to the movie because she had to take he sister to homecoming to look after her because she was an irresponsible freshman. But her sister got a ride with some friends and Lucia went to see a movie with her friend. Her parents lectured for what seemed like hours; she never understood why her parents cared so much. They weren't going to be in charge of her next year when she went to college so what was the point of being so controlling now. The more her parents tried to control her every move, the more she wanted to disobey everything thing they said.

“ It wasn’t that big deal; it was just a movie. Can I go now?” she asked.

“ not! You should have been there to protect you sister tonight!” Her mother barked.

“From what?? It’s Conifer, the worst thing that ever happened here was Riley Costello smoking pot in the band room” she replied sarcastically.

“From people like Tyler who would use her and then go date her best friend.”

That snapped something in Lucia that couldn’t be undone. Her face held a blank expression, emotionless and detached. Her mom realized what she said and quickly apologized, but it was too late. What was coming next couldn’t be stopped.

She got up and walked right out the front door. Her parents called for her to come back, but she didn’t hear them, all she could hear was the beating of her own heart. Everyone thinks that you can feel your heartbeat when you’re happy. Wrong. You can feel it when you’re mad. You can feel every molecule of blood pulsing through your veins, rushing to your face giving it a crimson glow. You can feel your had turning of the key and your food on the gas.

Chapter 3

Ellison was a nerd by any standard; whether it be for drumline or computers. He lived alone with his mom, so he spent most of his time on the computer. Ellison was 6ft2 but scrawny, his pants never really covered his ankles because his legs took up most of his body. He was lanky so Drew liked to draw him a lot (it was his favorite body type). Drew and he was close, they had been since kindergarten. But lately, he’d been spending more time with Lucia; he figured that Drew liked her. He wasn't jealous, he just, something about their relationship made them on edge. Ok, he was Jealous of Lucia and on a daily basis wanted to punch drew in the gut because of it.

At the movie, he hoped to sit next to him, so that they could spend some time close together. But no. Drew and Lucia sat together and left him with a creepy lady who looked slightly like Annabell. She kept looking at him during the movie, and it made him so uneasy he spent most of the time in the bathroom and blamed a stomach ache.

When the movie was over, he was in charge of driving Drew home, and he loved almost every minute of it. They talked about the good and bad parts of the movie, and it felt like old times again. Maybe a little too much like ancient times because Drew began to feel uneasy. After that, they spent the rest of the ride in silence. He dropped him off at his house and drove slowly home. He went ten mph the whole way. As well as being a nerd he was also a total drama queen. Everything was the end of the world for him. But that was yet to come.

Chapter 4

The end of the world didn't come with fire and earthquakes. It came with Ice.

It had been forecasted the previous night that it was supposed to be blizzard conditions, but since it’s colorado, everyone disregarded it. Well at least until it started. It began with 40 mph wind that would throw you in every direction if you weighed under 100 pounds, and if you weighed more, you just ended up with scrapes, bruises, and a red face thanks to windburn and flying debris. But the snow was the real problem. I don't know if you could call it snow, it was more like hail. The flakes came down so big they practically formed snowballs. It came down so fast and hard that within 20 minutes there were a few inches, then a foot, then two.

Our heroes found themselves on the bus headed home when the first gust of wind smashed into the side of the bus. Everyone jumped, and a few people screamed at the sudden lurch of the wind hitting the bus.

“ What the hell was that? “ Drew yelled. He had been tossed to the bus floor from his previously sleeping position.

“ The wind, I think. “ Ellison said annoyed. He had been enjoying secretly watching Drew sleep on the bus.

When Drew looked to Lucia for a response she just sat there in silence, she wasn’t very talkative for the past few days. They asked her once if she was ok and her response was an unpleasant “I'm fine” so they decided to let her have some space for now. Now that Drew was looking over at her he noticed her hair wasn’t as shiny as it usually was. He wondered if her shower broke or something, but then quickly averted his mind to something other than Lucia and her shower as his thoughts began to wander.

“What the …!” Ellison said as giant balls of ice and snow began to pelt the bus. It had a similar sound to hail, but instead of bb gun sized chunks of ice they were more the size of a baseballs . as it kept coming down It began to leave dents on the bus ceiling and one particularly large ball of ice crashed through one of the side windows spilling glass and cold air into the bus.

The bus stopped, and the driver began trying to fix the windows, but with no luck.

She yelled “Get down!” as another window shattered. There was a moment of confusion because there wasn't much to get under. The kids small enough hid underneath the seats, but the ones who weren't had to hold their backpacks over their head to protect themselves from the showers of snow and glass. This continued for about 10minutes; then it slowly started to let up. When it did the bus driver started taping up the windows and blasting the heater.

As everyone slowly crawled out from where they were, a few kids including Drew had injuries because of the glass and others were shivering together. Being in a snow-filled bus with nothing more than sweatshirts had done a number on all of them. They began asking what was going to happen next just as the bus driver finished sealing the last window with a garbage bag and duct tape. She explained how a few other busses were in the same situation and emergency vehicles were on the way. After that, she took out the first aid kit and began looking at injuries. For everything that was happening she seemed very calm and focused. Unlike everyone else…Ellison was the first to speak up

.”What the hell??? I’ve never seen anything like that in my life! Was that a freak blizzard/tornado/ice volcano?!”

“More importantly” chimed in Drew, “How are we supposed to get home after all of that, there are bound to be so many accidents that all of the roads will probably be closed.”

“Hey, at least we got a heater.” Lucia didn’t seem too nervous about staying on the bus.

After she said that she looked around at Drew and saw he was worse than she thought, he was bleeding from his right leg near his knee and his upper right bicep. Mrs. Robert, we discovered to be the driver's name, took out the glass and wrapped his arm and leg, but you could still see the dark red beneath the bandages. Drew was going to need more than they had in their first aid kit. Mrs. Robert quickly realized this and radioed to the bus barn for a more critical state.

The heater may have been on, but it didn’t feel like it. The windows covered by trash bags were leaking cold air everywhere, and the temperature wasn’t going much higher than 45 degrees. Everyone was freezing and scared. A few started to cry; others tried to call their parents or phone for help. But they soon realized their parents couldn't reach them and gave up. Lucia and Ellison were far too preoccupied to feel cold or worried about themselves; they were worried about their friend.

His condition was getting worse by the minute, he tried not to show it, but he could feel himself slowly getting weaker. He kept up like he was fine, his usual sarcastic self, talking about the implications of this storm for the Colorado government

“ What if it would be treated like a hurricane and people in Texas would have the option of donating 2 dollars to help snowplows get through with canned foods and popsicles every time they went to the supermarket for pizza dinners.” Drew joked.

“ I usually say no whenever they ask me to donate.” Ellison said.

“ Well then, I guess you aren't going to get any popsicles then are you?” Drew poked back.

“ But those disasters always seems so distant from Colorado, they looked like another world, separate from their own with their own problems.” Lucia said semi- sarcastically.

“Well, we don’t have to worry about an earthquake if that’s what you mean” Drew said. They all started to laugh and joked, Lucia began to smile one again, and for a little while pretended like everything was going to be okay.

Then the bus's engine died.

Chapter 5

"Fucking hell," Ellison said through gritted teeth.

Everyone looked to Mrs. Robert, she had been able to handle everything thrown at her so far. She just stared at the wall, thinking.

"its risky" we head he muttered under her breath. Then she cleared her throat, looked up and said, "I'm going to try and walk to the king supers to get supplies for medical supplies, food, water, and warm clothes." We all looked back at her in silence. Drews voice, now shaky broke the silence. " It's nearly 3 miles away. We need you here."

What he was trying to say was that if she left she would probably die and then all of them would die. She seemed to understand, but she said: "It's worth the risk, we don't know how long we're going to be here." She put a big coat on, a hat and some snow pants and left.

Chapter 6

It had been almost 3 hours since Mrs. Roberts left, and the bus had gotten colder. Groups huddled for warmth, but it didn't change that fact that everyone's fingertips were slowly turning a dark shade magenta. Drew was the worst the blood that had been dripping from his arm and leg was now frozen to his body and changing the skin underneath it the same shade of magenta. Lucia, Ellison, and Drew all huddled together, but Ellison was becoming restless.

"I need to get Drew somewhere warm, or he's going to…. Loose a finger! If I leave with him there's no way we'll make it to king supers and even if we did, would there be anyone there that could help him, or would just being warm help him? If we stay here, emergency aid might find us, but there's a chance that no one will come for us, our radio died with the engine so who knows if they know where we are or not. But if we stay here we're all going to freeze. Leave = die. Stay = eventually die. Ok, good options. Or... I could try and find help in the surrounding area; the closest building was about one mile away.I'm sure they could spare a least one blanket and not only would I heroically save Drew I would eventually save an entire bus and be given the medal of honor for my stellar service to my community. Best plan ever!"

Worst plan ever! He hopped off the bust before anyone could stop him in nothing but a sweatshirt and jeans. As soon as his feet met the snow, he sunk to his waist and couldn't get out. The wind blasted his face with flecks of ice that left small cuts on his cheeks; it burned his face until it was bright pink. Then, He gave up then and there. He laid the top half of his body down on the snow and was satisfied with his heroic ending.

Just then Lucia reached down, yanked him up by his belt and threw him back onto the bus with the force no one knew Lucia could pull off.

"YOU IDIOT! WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?!?!" she unleashed all of the anger that had been boiling since she left her house that night.

"let me just single handedly save everyone by racing out into the snow and dying," she said mockingly. Elison's blush was concealed by the snow burn on his cheeks.

"Not exactly," he said sheepishly.

"Ok, then what exactly was your master plan?

"Save Drew!" he perked up a little at the remembrance of his heroic quest.

"Well, how'd that work out for you?" she said coldly.

"it didn't"

"Ding Ding Ding we had a winner! So if any of you other smart asses has any ideas of ‘saving us’ go ahead I insist, You'll probably be dead in ten maybe 15 minutes! The best plan is to wait where we are. "

Her face had gone bright red from yelling. The bus was dead silent. She soon realized everything she had said and looked down. Her voice softened and became a whisper looked him right in the eye and said.

"Don't do it again dumbass."

She then walked back to where Drew was laying on the seat, grabbed his frozen hand and put her coat around him. He had fallen asleep after Mrs. Robert left. He was surprised that Lucia's outburst didn’t wake him up.

Just then something hit the bus. Everyone turned where the noise didn't see anything then assumed the wind blew something into the side. But then it came, again and again, getting louder and louder. Every time it hit the bus rocked a little. By the third hit if anyone was standing they were now splattered on the ground.

"What Now?" said Lucia seemingly annoyed.

"BOOM!"

The third hit sent the bus spinning from its place on the highway. It spun on the ice three times before returning to normal flinging everyone on the bus to the front or the floor. The bus had spun directly towards a precarious hill. Lucia stood up as best she could with the minor concussion from the spinning. She looks out the window to see a massive snow plow a few feet from the bus teetering towards the edge of a hill. The plow backed up as if getting ready for another blow but before it could Lucia raced out of doors and stood out in the snow thrashing and signaling to the driver that there were people on this bus. Instantly the plow stopped, and a 70-year-old man popped out of the side door looking sheepish.

Chapter 7

After much explaining, he told them how he was in charge of clearing the roads the best he could for the emergency vehicles which meant removing everyone abandoned cars off the road too.

"He thought no one was in here" Lucia explained, "But he can give us a ride to somewhere safe."

"Good! I'm getting off this metal death trap of death!" Ellison was happy to be off of the bus for two reasons, to be warm again and because he was afraid of heights and the bus was very close to teetering towards certain death.

Lucia picked up Drew who was still asleep and slowly carried him off the bus into the snowplow, which was crowded because they were trying to fit 7ish people into a two-seater. But they made it work

0 notes