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demonsigh · 3 years

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the hunt

rating: lime/mature pairing: male vampire x gender-neutral reader features: touch starvation, safewords, biting, aftercare, cuddling warnings: blood, fear, being chased, dizziness length: 4240 words

Feeling isolated and craving physical intimacy, a college student agrees to be hunted and bitten by a vampire in exchange for a post-meal snuggling session. Based on this prompt submitted to @monsterkinkmeme by @the-color-of-sound-is-space

You were supposed to meet him at 11 PM, in the middle of Bartleby Park. Vampires were nocturnal and uncomfortable in the sun, so the hunt had to take place at night. But did it have to be this late?

It wasn’t as if you were getting tired. You were something of a nocturnal animal yourself nowadays; college tended to do that to people. But the park was pretty creepy this late at night, eerily empty and unnaturally quiet.

You checked your phone again. 11:10 already. He was late. Had he been held up? Or could he have overslept? That thought wrung a quiet chuckle from you — a sound not at all reassuring to hear in the dark silence of the park.

The “he” in question was a vampire named Roland that you’d met on the internet. You were meeting up so he could suck your blood.

For whatever reason, college towns tended to attract vampires. It probably had something to do with the vibrant nightlife, and the bars that never closed, and parties that only ended when the sun rose. Or perhaps it was the rich history of such places, in the old stone buildings and the musty library books. Or maybe it was just the students themselves: curious and open-minded, over-educated and sheltered and a little bit reckless.

In the modern age, most vampires obtained their food in the modern way: in bags, from blood banks or speciality clinics. But there were those who still swore by more natural methods. Many believed that feeding from the source provided physical and mental health benefits. For others, the desire to stalk, and chase, and bite, was simply too strong to resist indulging. Luckily for all, it was not as difficult to find a willing human victim as one might expect.

You discovered a message board that was dedicated to this macabre economy. Vampires would make posts looking for “prey” — humans willing or eager to be bitten. An arrangement would be made for a night of thrilling and dangerous roleplay, where the vampire played the part of the seductive predator, and the human, the helpless victim.

For most of the humans who posted on this forum, being prey was a kink. They enjoyed the thrill of the chase, and the pain of the bite. It was foreplay to them, and the evening inevitably led to sex after their partner’s more pressing appetites were sated.

You became a little obsessed with this message board. You didn’t think you’d mind being bitten; there was something kind of sexy about it. But you weren’t really trying to get laid. What you really wanted was some quality aftercare, a perk that was frequently offered, requested, and discussed on this forum.

College had become something of a lonely experience for you. You hadn’t meant for it to happen, and you weren’t sure where you’d gone wrong. In your freshman year you’d made an effort to be social, starting a number of casual friendships, but none of them really stuck. You were still close to your high school friends, and you talked to them online all the time, but somehow the number of people with whom you had any physical interaction had dwindled down to zero.

It made you lonely in a deep, nagging way. You wanted a hug. You wanted to hold someone’s hand. You daydreamed constantly about these things, setting up elaborate scenarios in your mind that led to someone safe and warm holding you for hours at a time. You felt like these fantasies were reaching a boiling point in your mind. And one night, after drinking several beers by yourself, you made your own post on that message board. You would let someone bite you (hunt optional), in exchange for an evening of snuggling (sex optional).

And that was how you met Roland. He wasn’t the only vampire who replied to your post, but he was the only one who lived within easy walking distance. You agreed to meet at one of the campus cafes and discuss possibilities over coffee.

You recognized him immediately, although you were pretty sure he didn’t recognize you. He was in one of your classes. You frequently spied him from across the lecture hall, tall and good-looking and unapproachable. You’d always thought there was something a little otherworldly about him, but he mostly just looked like another student. You’d had no idea that he wasn’t even human.

And it turned out he wasn’t as intimidating as he looked. He actually seemed pretty nice, even a little bit shy. He’d never fed straight from the skin before — drinking nothing but bagged blood since he was turned — and he wanted to try it at least once. He wasn’t trying to get laid either. Like you, he was much more interested in the aftercare, hoping for something like a cooldown hug once the deed was done. That suited you just fine.

The plan was this: You would meet in Bartleby Park at 11 PM. The exact location didn’t matter, he said; he would come find you. This statement gave you an unexpected thrill. Perhaps the hunting part would be more fun than you’d thought. You would run, and he would chase you. If you screamed, all the better — although this did make a safeword necessary. You chose “cardboard,” the first word that came to your mind, which made him laugh. When he finally caught you, he would bite you on the neck and drink your blood. Then he would take you up to his apartment for first aid and spooning. Simple as that.

Only he wasn’t here yet. It was 11:20 now, and you were still alone. Maybe he was having trouble finding you. Or… was he backing out? That thought stung. You suddenly realized just how much you’d been looking forward to this, and the idea of going home tired and alone made you feel more depressed than ever.

A branch snapped in the trees nearby, and your head whipped toward the sound. Your eyes scanned back and forth across the screen of dark leaves, trying and failing to uncover the culprit.

“Roland?” you whispered. You hadn’t meant to whisper, but suddenly you were having trouble finding your voice. Your phone buzzed in your hand, making you jump. It was a text message from your friend:

“How did it go?”

“He’s late, I’m still waiting,” you typed in response.

“Ok… Text me again in an hour or I’m calling the cops.”

Your friends had basically all agreed that this seemed like a bad idea. You were starting to wonder if they were right. You didn’t know Roland at all… even if you knew where he lived and where he went to school. Even if he was cute and he seemed nice.

And even if Roland was fine, Roland wasn’t here. It was late, and the park was deserted. Who knew what other weirdos were prowling around out here.

You were starting to feel genuinely anxious. Beneath the trees, the park was dark, the shadows unaffected by the dim light of the street lamps. What was the safeword again? Cardboard? That was it, right?

There was a rapid noise in the grass behind you — tff tff tff — like something rushing towards you in long leaps. That was the last straw. You launched into a flat-out run, heart hammering, breath coming in gasps.

A pair of cold, hard arms wrapped around you from behind, jerking you to a stop. You screamed at the top of your lungs, and then, almost in the same breath, shouted, “Cardboard cardboard cardboard,” all in a rush; sure that the word would mean nothing to this person; that you were about to be hurt or worse.

But cardboard was the magic word. The arms disappeared from around your chest, and in a flash he was standing in front of you.

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice rough, “are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

And of course it was only Roland, the very person you had agreed to do this with. He was staring into your face, expression distressed, hands gripping your shoulders.

“I’m okay,” you wheezed. “It was just… scarier than I expected.”

He was slowly shaking his head back and forth. He looked appalled. “Fuck, I am so sorry.”

You didn’t understand why he was apologizing like that, until you suddenly became aware of the wetness on your cheeks, and the ragged sound of your breathing. Were you crying? God, how fucking embarrassing.

“I’m sorry,” you said, rubbing tears from your eyes with the backs of your hands. “Jesus.”

“No no,” said Roland, “don’t apologize. I think I overdid it. ...And I was pretty late, that definitely didn’t help.”

He was looking around now, frowning into the dark woods, and rubbing your shoulders absently. You were hyper-aware of his hands. They were like ice but every pass of them over your shoulders sent a rush of warmth through you. You felt extremely relieved that he was here, even though he was the reason you’d been so scared in the first place. You wished he would hug you — the desire for this was almost overwhelming — but you felt too dazed and embarrassed to ask.

His eyes met yours once again, and his hands slipped from your shoulders, finding their way into his pockets instead — the exact opposite of what you wanted.

“Uh…” he said. “Do you wanna just skip this part and go straight back to my place?”

A wobbly laugh escaped you, and you nodded weakly. “Are you still gonna suck my blood?” you asked.

“Do you still want me to?”

“Yeah.”

He smiled at that. It was a small, almost shy smile, but enough to give you a good look at his fangs. They looked shockingly white and sharp in the dark.

He started to walk in the direction of his apartment, then paused; and looking back, expression uncertain, he held his hand out towards you. You hesitated for just one second. Then you placed your hand in his, and his cold fingers closed tightly around yours.

“Is this ok?” he asked.

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak. Your heart was racing again. When was the last time you’d held someone’s hand? You never wanted him to let go.

Neither of you spoke. You wondered if he was feeling as nervous as you were. You’d thought that the scary part was over, but what about what came next? How badly would it hurt when he bit you? He’d never bitten anyone before, he said. How would he react to his first taste?

When you tried to picture it, all you could imagine were his lips pressed against your skin; and his hand cupping the back of your neck, holding you still. They were not unpleasant images. You felt your face heat up, and you were suddenly grateful for the darkness and the cold night air.

It was a fairly short walk. His apartment was a big single-room studio: TV and sofa in one corner, bed and bookcase in another. Rounded doorways branched off into a kitchen and a bathroom. There was a large white-curtained window in the west wall, and moonlight poured in through the glass, illuminating the plush carpet. It was cozy and uncluttered. Roland watched you look around, then looked around himself.

“Maybe in the kitchen?” he asked. He caught your eye, then glanced quickly away. “So we don’t get blood on the carpet.”

How practical. You followed him into the kitchen, forcing yourself to take even breaths as you went. Vampires were supposed to have excellent hearing. Could he hear how fast your heart was beating?

“Want some water?” he asked, opening a cupboard as he spoke. You peered over his shoulder, tickled to see that the only dishes he seemed to own were drinking glasses; no bowls or plates in sight. What would he need a plate for, after all?

He moved around you to fill the glass with water from the sink. He seemed to be avoiding eye-contact, and you wondered again if he was nervous. Somehow the thought made you feel more at ease. Boldly, you opened his refrigerator to examine the contents. Blood bags, and nothing else. Lots of them. Stacks upon stacks, in neat little rows. You couldn’t quite believe it, even though it was exactly what you’d expected to find.

You didn’t know what kind of face you were making, but you were afraid it wasn’t good. You turned toward Roland and found him watching you, expression careful; glass of water forgotten in one hand.

“Yeah…” he said.

“Nothing for me?” you asked, grinning, attempting to break the sudden tension.

He grinned back sheepishly. Then he pulled a little juice box out of the pocket of his jacket. It was the kind of thing they gave you after donating blood. You both began to laugh, and a warm, giddy feeling spread through you.

Roland moved closer and patted one of the countertops. “Hop up here?” he asked. You obliged, although it was more of a scramble than a hop. Roland began pulling more small items from the pockets of his jacket, and setting them on the counter next to you: single-use alcohol wipes; a few band-aids; a little roll of gauze, and a roll of medical tape. It became clear to you that he really had intended to bite you in the park, and he had come prepared.

He was standing very close now, almost pressed against your bent knees. You longed to close the distance. You didn’t move. Roland’s movements also grew slower, more hesitant. Stalling.

“Are you nervous?” you asked.

“Yeah,” he admitted.

“Why?”

He looked you right in the eye, finally. His expression was serious.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said.

“I don’t think it’ll be that bad,” you replied, although you weren’t sure whether you actually believed that.

He frowned, and his eyes travelled down to your neck. He was biting his lip, and his fangs stood out starkly against his skin.

He handed you the glass of water. You drank it. Then you took his hand and gently pulled him closer, spreading your knees wider so he could stand between them. He swallowed visibly.

“I’m nervous too,” you told him.

“I know,” he said, in a hoarse almost-whisper. “Are you ready?”

“Yeah.”

“Tell me if you want me to stop.”

“Safeword?”

“You can just tell me.”

You were both almost-whispering now, leaning in closer and closer. It felt an awful lot like you were about to share your first kiss.

With one hand, he pulled the collar of your shirt away from your neck, while his other hand slid up to cup the back of your neck. Your heart was hammering with excitement and fear, and his cold fingers felt good against your flushed skin. He lowered his face against your neck, and almost before you knew it his fangs were piercing the skin, creating thin twin wounds that ached immediately. You gasped and grasped handfuls of the fabric of his jacket. Honestly his teeth didn’t hurt much more than a needle, but somehow the reality of it stunned you. He was really going to drink your blood. In that moment, for the first time, you really believed that Roland was something other than human.

His lips closed over the wound. His mouth was wet and unexpectedly hot, and his tongue moved rhythmically against your aching skin as he sucked and swallowed your blood. He made a low sound deep in his throat — the type of contented groan that a good bite of food might inspire. You had to hold your breath to keep from responding in kind.

This was erotic. You couldn’t help thinking of it that way. Your grip on his jacket tightened, and you forced yourself not to squeeze your knees more tightly around his waist. You wondered if he felt it too. Was this exciting him at all? Or was this just a meal to him?

You couldn’t have said how long this went on — it was probably minutes, though it felt longer — but eventually he stopped drinking and pulled away. Somehow a piece of gauze was already in his hand; he pressed it to your neck, holding it firmly against the bite. You stared at each other, both breathing unevenly. His cheeks, so colorless before, were now flushed.

He cleared his throat and licked blood off his lips.

“Are you okay,” he asked, voice rough.

“I’m ok,” you said, although you actually felt a little dizzy. You felt around for the juice box. “Was that enough?”

He nodded his head and grabbed the juice box, pressing it into your reaching hand. He seemed a little dazed. He tore open one of the alcohol wipes, and while you drank your juice he disinfected the bite marks. You hissed at the stinging pain, and he grimaced in sympathy. Then he taped a fresh strip of gauze over the bite.

“It didn’t hurt that bad,” you reported between sips.

“Good,” he said. But he was starting to look unhappy again, frowning as he watched you sip your juice. Your heart sank a little in your chest. Maybe he hadn’t enjoyed this as much as you had.

“Are you ok?” you asked him.

He didn’t respond at first. And then he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close against him. You bit back a huff of surprise. He was no longer cold — drinking your blood had warmed his whole body.

“What is it?” you whispered.

He heaved an enormous sigh next to your ear. “You just looked so scared in the park,” he said. You could feel the vibration of his voice against your chest. “I feel really bad.”

You didn’t feel bad. One of his large hands was pressed against your back, warm and reassuring, and the other was cupped around the back of your head. Your chest was pressed flush against his, and he was warm and solid and worried about you. You gave up trying to resist the urge to touch him. You put your arms around him, and squeezed your knees tighter against his waist, pulling him even closer to you. You let your head fall forward to rest against his neck, but as soon as you closed your eyes, the room began to whirl around you.

“Um,” you gasped. “I think I need to lie down.”

“Oh,” he said, a little catch of surprise in his voice. He pulled away. “Um. Let me, uh...”

Carefully, he slipped his hand under your knees, and gathered you up into his arms. You threw your own arms around his neck, shamelessly clinging to him as he carried you out of the kitchen with no apparent effort. He paused in the doorway and looked down at you.

“The bed or the couch?” he asked.

“The bed,” you said against his chest, hoping that this was not too bold. He didn’t seem to think so. He carried you across the room, careful not to jostle you, and gently laid you down on top of the comforter.

“Are you cold?” he asked.

You nodded your head. You were quite cold, actually; another effect of the blood loss.

Roland stood and went over to a small closet, where he retrieved a stack of thick, warm-colored blankets. He shook them out and draped them over you in layers, and their warm weight made you feel better almost immediately.

“Thank you,” you said.

“No problem,” he replied. He stood by the side of the bed, unmoving. He seemed to be struggling for words. “Um… Do you still want to…”

“Yes,” you said emphatically, and you peeled back the blankets to make space for him.

He looked self-conscious, but he didn’t hesitate. He crawled under the blankets, and carefully pulled you into his arms, settling your head against his shoulder. His body was still warm with your blood, and you pressed into him eagerly.

“Is this ok?” he asked.

“It’s perfect,” you said. You placed your hand flat on his chest, then sighed happily, which made him laugh. He laid his hand over yours, curling his fingers around it.

That was almost too much. Your chest felt fit to burst with it. You kept waiting to wake up, sure that you must have dreamt this whole thing. You still couldn’t believe he’d drunk your blood. His teeth had been inside of you. And as much as that weirded you out, it kind of turned you on too.

You suddenly remembered that you were supposed to text your friends back. You shifted around, and Roland loosed his hold on you to let you pull your phone out of your pocket.

“I’m letting my friends know you didn’t murder me,” you explained as you typed. You’d meant it as a joke, but you regretted the words as soon as they were out of your mouth. “I’m sorry,” you hurried to say, turning in his arms to face him, and wincing at the pain in your neck. “I didn’t really think you would…”

He shook his head before you could say anything else. “It’s ok. Biting someone…” He ran a hand through his hair as he thought. “Well, it’s an inherently violent act. Some people get carried away. Your friends weren’t wrong to be worried.”

“I feel safe with you though,” you said.

“Oh. Good.” He ducked his head, and his cheeks turned the pinkest they’d been all night. Your heartbeat stuttered in your chest. He was really adorable… You hadn’t expect that, watching him from afar. You pulled closer to him, putting your arms around him and laying your head against his chest. He tucked the blankets more snugly around your shoulders.

“This is really nice,” you said.

“Yeah,” he agreed.

“How did you like biting me?” You forced the words out before you could lose your nerve. You hoped you weren’t making it awkward, but you had to know.

Roland didn’t answer at first. Then he let out a breath, and slid one of his hands over his face. “Not gonna lie,” he said. “It was way better than drinking bagged blood.”

“Oh, good!” you said, laughing. “I’m glad. I was worried you didn’t like it.”

“I definitely liked it…” he said, still covering his face. “You taste amazing.”

You felt your face turn bright red. There was a double-entendre in there somewhere, although you guessed it was unintentional. I’d like to taste you next, you thought wildly, and once again, you found yourself wondering if you were the only one whose mind had wandered into the gutter tonight.

He seemed to sense your sudden discomfort, if not its source, because he uncovered his face and said, “I’m sorry, that was a super weird thing to say.”

You shook your head against his chest. “I liked it too,” you admitted. “When you bit me.” Then, still more softly: “I wouldn’t mind if you did it again sometime.”

You heard him swallow. “I’d like that.”

You lapsed into a warm silence, untroubled and comfortable, and you basked in his presence like a cat in sunlight. You were aware of every part of him that was pressed against you: his chest rising and falling beneath you, and his hands pressed against your back, and his legs tangled with yours beneath the blankets, chaste but intimate, and ripe with potential.

You definitely wanted to kiss him. You opened your mouth to float the idea, but you were overcome by an enormous yawn. You suddenly realized you had no idea what time it was. It felt really late, but maybe you were just tired out from all the excitement.

“Was I falling asleep?” you asked.

“A little,” he admitted.

“I should probably get home,” you said, but then made no move to get up. You heaved a huge sigh. “I don’t wanna go yet though,” you complained, “I’m so cozy.”

“Do you wanna stay here?”

You lifted your head to look him in the eye. “Stay the night?”

“We don’t have to do anything weird,” he said, turning pink again. You stared at each other for a moment. Then he gently pushed your head back down to his chest, so that you weren’t looking at him when he said, “I don’t wanna let you go yet.”

“Are you sure?” you asked. As if you weren’t already convinced. “I won’t throw off your day? I mean your night?”

You felt him shrug. “I was just gonna do homework.”

That drew a surprised laugh out of you. You’d almost forgotten that Roland wasn’t just your weird vampire hookup. He was your classmate too.

“Do you know that we’re in the same class?” you asked, playfully accusing.

“Yeah,” he admitted, with a bit of a laugh in his voice. “I recognized you when we got coffee.”

That surprised you. “I thought I was the only one,” you said.

“I noticed you sitting in back sometimes.” His hand was still resting against the side of your head, and his fingers moved absently through strands of your hair. “I thought you looked cool.”

“Good,” you said, which made him laugh. You grinned against his chest. “I want to stay. Can I?”

“Yeah,” he said, voice soft, and he wrapped his arms more tightly around you.

#exophilia #monster romance #monster boyfriend #vampire boyfriend #monsterkinkmeme #sighs writing

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msmarvelouswinchester · 4 years

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Irresistibly Yours

Chapter 2 - Noise Complaint

Summary - Y/N Y/L/N moves to NYC in hopes for a fresh start after a nasty breakup. There she meets her neighbor, the cynical lawyer, Dean Winchester. A love-hate relationship starts evolving between them ever since they met in the elevator one morning but a desperate situation and a string of lies forces the two friendly rivals to go on a date or rather a fake date. Will sparks fly between them when Dean gets to know Y/N real and up close? Will Y/N finally find her Prince Charming in the grumpy, workaholic, divorce lawyer?

Pairing - Lawyer!Dean Winchester x Y/N

Warning - None expect meanie Dean (Suspicious, isn’t it?)

WC - 2154

Square Filled - Don't put me in this position ( @anyfandomgoesbingo )

A/N - I promise the next chapter will have more of Dean and more conflict! This is just the beginning of a very long ride. Enjoy!

Beta’d by @miss-nerd95

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Series Masterlist Masterlist

The silence in the cab on her way back to her apartment gave her the quality time she needed to think. In a few weeks, Meg was getting married and now, since they knew, Y/N had to show up with her 'boyfriend’. She racked her brain, scrambling to come up with a good excuse because it was all a big lie.

Every time, however, she reached two conclusions - either make a fool of herself and admit that she lied or tell everyone that she broke up and be the one person at the wedding that everyone looks down on with pitiful eyes.

There was a third option, which was risque as hell too, cause Y/N barely knew the man and their first meeting did not go so well, but there was definitely something about him that made her blush every time she thought of him.The way he carried himself and the dominating vibes he gave off, sent shivers down her spine. Maybe he wasn't a morning person and she did start blabbering in the elevator the minute she stepped in. She swallowed hard when she remembered the way her name rolled off his tongue. ‘How did he know?’ She wondered.

As Y/N boarded the elevator, she thought about how, she wanted nothing more than to see a certain green-eyed man again. She had been residing in this complex for almost three months but she had never seen the man before. Maybe he was new here, in this apartment building, who knew? Mind plagued by millions of thoughts, Y/N trudged down the empty hallway to her cosy little home.

“Who invented these fucking heels?” She grumbled as she freed her feet out of the painful, yet pretty high heels when she reached the comfort of her own home. Shrugging her coat off, she relaxed as her ass hit the soft mattress of the couch.

“I need a date in seven weeks.” She said, making a mental note of the wedding date. This was the only wedding she ever looked forward to attending where she knew she wouldn't have to face the constant stream of questions involving her dating life and a particular man. All she ever wanted was to be with her close friend on the best day of her life.

“First dress fitting - tomorrow at 10.” Her phone lit up with an incoming text and groaning, she dropped her head backwards. Y/N couldn't even skip the wedding if she wanted to. She was one of the bridesmaids and it wouldn't be fair to both Meg and Cas, if she didn't attend it. A smile graced her frowning face when she remembered the time Cas proposed to her friend on Valentine's Day. Cliche- Y/N would say, but deep down, she knew she just wanted what Cas and Meg had.

A sigh left her lips as she got up, still in her work clothes. She put on some light music as she went into the bathroom to freshen up. After the long, tiring day she had, a warm bath and a Ryan Gosling movie were very much needed. Quickly stripping off, she stepped into the tub. She leaned her head backwards, closing her eyes, as the warm water soothed her aching body and her troubled mind.

“Romeo, take me somewhere we can be alone,” Y/N sang along the song, slightly off tune but she didn't care, as she stepped out of the bathroom after some time. She let go of the towel wrapped around her body and stepped into a pair of comfortable pjs. Getting a box cold pizza out from her refrigerator, she turned up the volume of the music playing in her apartment.

“He knelt to the ground and pulled out a ring, and said,” Y/N yelled out the chorus when she started to heat up the pizza. Her private singing session, however, was cut short by a sudden knock on the door. She grudgingly pressed pause as she walked up to the door to find out the unwanted visitor.

“Excuse me- Ms L/N?” As soon as she opened the door, she was met by a very familiar, deep baritone that had been haunting her.

“Dean Winchester. And please, call me Y/N,” she breathed out. The formality in Dean’s voice made her cringe. Her eyes fell as she took in the man in front.

Dean had gotten rid of the dapper grey suit and slipped into a much laid back look. A black polo t-shirt fitted over his body and plain blue jeans hugging his bowlegs perfectly. The look on his face mirrored the one from the morning and Y/N wondered if he would look better with a smile on. Her train of thoughts were again rudely interrupted by the man speaking.

“I assume you're having somewhat of a casual evening,” Dean said, his hands waving to point at her pjs, making her suddenly self-conscious of her clothing state.

“Y-yeah. How may I help you?” She asked, genuinely curious.

“See, I moved in the apartment right beside you a few days ago, and I think you might have noticed sometime or the other that there are other people living in this building as well,” Dean said, his face not imparting any sort of emotions, “You might be having a casual evening but I can assure you that there's at least one person who is certainly not. Turn the music level down.”

Y/N’s mouth fell open at Dean’s words but she wasn't going to turn down the volume just because a man turned up at her door, asking her to do so. His words were sharp, but his tone was downright rude, and it was definitely not because he wasn't a morning person. The least he could have done was ask her nicely.

“Well, listen here pal, no one's having a problem, other than you. So you can go back to your room, put on some earplugs and do whatever the heck you were doing before you decided to make my day more awful,” Y/N said, taking a threatening stance with hands on her hips, a deep frown on her face.

“I'll file a noise complaint report against you.” Dean warned with his pointer finger right in front of her eyes.

“It's just music. Learn to appreciate the little things in life.” She said while rolling her eyes.

“I'm a very busy man and I got work to do, alright? And speaking about music, play something actually good like Zeppelin and people will personally come up to thank you. This song is not even a classic.” Dean spat back.

“Believe me or not, everyone is a Swiftie at heart.” She smirked with a sarcastic shrug. Dean’s lips twitched in anger as his face grew more rigid before he said, “If you don't lower the volume, expect a noise complaint report delivered with your newspaper tomorrow.” He walked away before Y/N had a chance to even think of a comeback.

Glancing over his shoulder, Dean went inside his own apartment room right beside Y/N’s. She glared at the empty hallway before swinging her door shut and walked back to her room towards her amazon echo, turning the music down anyway. She couldn't risk getting a report filed against her, and the man appeared to be dead serious about what he threatened to do.

“Stupid Dean Winchester.” She grumbled.

Squinting at the clock, Y/N woke up the next morning to loud bangs on her door. 7:30 am, it read. Removing the covers, she immediately shivered when the cool air hit her bare legs.

Hair still a mess, she grabbed her robe from the nearby chair, putting it on along with her slippers before she warily made her way to the door. “Dean will be complaining now for sure.” She grumbled as she unlocked her door to reveal her friend standing on the other side in a dishevelled state, eyes red like a mad woman.

“Meg?” Her face scrunched up in confusion as the said woman shoved past her into her apartment. “You’re wearing your shirt inside out.” Y/N closed the door behind her as Meg took a seat on the couch.

“Can I have some water?” Y/N dumbfoundedly nodded at her friend’s request and went to her kitchen to retrieve a glassful. Handing the glass over to her, she sat down next to the brunette who gulped down the entire glass of water in one go. Setting the utensil down on the wooden coffee table in front, she turned towards Y/N with slightly glossy eyes as she spoke, “I don’t want to go and finalise the dresses.”

Her words elicited a laugh from Y/N before she said, “Okay, bridezilla, we can reschedule it. Cas should better watch out!” She chuckled out the last words.

“No, y-you don’t understand!” Meg grabbed her friend’s hands, surprising the latter, “I don’t want to try the dress on at all.” Y/N was utterly surprised over her friend's outburst.

“Honey, you have a wedding in less than two months.” Y/N cooed as a few drops of tears rolled down the bride-to-be’s cheeks. “Meg, talk to me. Did something happen between you two?”

The woman shook her head, letting the other lady in the room know that she didn't have to kick Cas’ ass to her relief, but it confused her even further. Since their engagement five months ago, Meg had been over the moon and had started planning every minute detail with high precision and finesse for her big day.

“What if I'm making a huge mistake?”

“Don’t put me in this position. You know how I am when it comes to-”

“But I need to know, and I trust you.”

Y/N pressed her lips into a thin line before she said, “Cas is the best thing that has ever happened to you-”

“You barely even knew me when I started to go out with him. We have only been together for fifteen months - five of which I have spent being engaged to him. What if I regret this later?” Meg's words were correct. Y/N used to barely talk to her when she had started dating Cas, but all through those eighteen months, as she slowly got to know the pair well enough, she knew that they were clearly meant to be in it for the long haul.

“But I have never seen you regret your decision to be with Cas even once… so why start now?.” Y/N politely answered, her hands letting go of her distraught friend's iron-clad grasp and reaching out to soothe her.

“Sometimes even if you have been with your man for what feels like forever, marrying him might seem to be the worst decision you can ever make, but it doesn't matter how long you have been with him. When you know, you know. Follow your heart.” Meg looked up at her as she mulled her words over before speaking.

“I love him.” She said.

“Then go, be with him.” Y/N smiled. Crisis averted.

A smile started to appear on Meg’s tear stained face as her eyes twinkled with a suggestive glimmer in them. Fiddling with her sparkling ring, she said, “Dean’s good for you. Don't let him go.”

Y/N was taken aback by her friend's supposition. She sat up straight in her seat as heat crept up her neck. Her mind was stuck in a turmoil as she tried to come up with an appropriate response.

“He’s not-Dean is not-” She stuttered, the words got stuck in her throat when she tried to think of a decent excuse. Maybe, this was the universe giving her a chance to take back everything she had said before, but the disheartened look on her friend’s face made her rethink her decision. After all, a little white lie never hurt anybody. “Yeah, he is a good man.” Meg smiled as Y/N played her into the deception game once again.

“Will he be at the wedding?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“What are you waiting for? Unless he is a figment of your imagination, ask him! I want to meet this certain Dean Winchester.” Meg giggled.

“I don’t have such vivid imaginations, Meg.” Y/N let out a nervous chuckle. She was now being given an ample amount of opportunities to tell the truth, then why was it so hard for her to deny everything she had said? Maybe she liked living in this utopian world where for once, no one deemed her as the broken, pathetic girl who failed to make a man stay. Maybe deep down, she wanted this damn lie to be true.

“I’ll ask him but you do know how men are about weddings.” She replied, having no knowledge of how to keep her end of the promise.

Chapter 3

Feedback is highly appreciated

If you want to be tagged in the series, lemme know!

#dean winchester #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #dean x you #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x y/n #dean x y/n #au dean x reader #au dean winchester x reader #dean fanfics #dean fanfiction #spn fanfic #irresistibly yours

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ramzawrites · 4 years

Text

Prince!Eret x Assassin!Reader - One Dance

Pairings: Eret x Reader

Characters included: Eret

Warnings: mention of death, talk of murder, very small mention of alchohol at the beginning

Series: No, a small fast drabble

Summary: You were sent to the local ball in order to get close to the heir Eret only that once you see the perfect chance for you to strike your emotions and feelings think this would be the best time to flare up.

Word count: 2119

Authors Note: I wrote this in the 2nd person which I’m not sure I like but I tried doing it anyway. I have been super busy with college but I wanted to write something for Eret since I love them a lot! Also this is really just a small drabble for fun so don’t expect too much lol

You sighed, taking another sip from you champagne glass. It was more so you fit in with every other snobby looking rich person in this ball room who where either dancing or chatting the world away than to enjoy an alcoholic drink.

Everyone was wearing these garish gowns with even more horrible looking masks. Thinking it would hide their identity and making a fun game out of this. Of course if you knew someone it wasn’t hard to recognize who was standing in front of you but if you didn’t it was apparently a charming game of who is who.

Though you weren’t here to play games. No, you had a job to do.

The good thing about this kind of ball is that it was actually not that hard to stand out. Everyone was wearing glittery, garish dresses and suits that the easiest way to stand out was by wearing something more toned down. All you had to wear was something that showed off the good parts of your body with simple garments.

That’s what you did. The only real choice you made when looking for what to wear was the color. At the end you settled for a simple wine red color. The mask you wore was covering both your eyes while also covering half your face.

There was no way anybody knew you there but it wasn’t about being recognized. The point of this mask was that you remained unknown. The Syndicate who you worked for made sure you were dressed properly for the event and wanted to give you at first a ceramic mask that would cover your whole face but you made the point then that this would probably pull a bit too much attention to yourself. The whole allure of this mask business was that you could see a hint of the real person.

This wasn’t your first job technically but this was your first job doing it alone and while being face to face with your victim. Honestly when it came to assassinations this was a classic and therefore should be treated as such, meaning people were expecting this.

Your goal? Prince Eret. The old king died a few weeks ago and he was about to be crowned the next ruler of the country but there were a lot of people who would love to see otherwise. Surprising? Not really. Especially seeing how the last king was a horrible ruler making sure to make the rich richer and bleeding the common folk dry. As far as people knew Eret wanted to do his best to undo this damage.

You sympathized with him, really, but a job is a job. To that you weren’t a big fan of any kind of government as well. You grew up with the Syndicate and got raised by them. You saw it all from the normal folk starving, getting beaten by the guards for not paying their protection fees all while the rich where eating cake and drinking the most expensive wines. So no, you held no love for this ruling system.

Everything was set. You had poison hidden in your clothes in case you get a chance to put it in his drink, got knives hidden and if worse came to worse you could use your hands. Now, of course to use all these things the damn prince had to appear but as it stood he was nowhere to be seen.

Angry you remembered how you told your mentor that honestly the best way would be for you to sneak in and kill him in his sleep but no this assassination had to be dramatic. To be fair this was the easiest way to get close to him if he would appear that is.

Repressing another angry sigh you decided to get some fresh air at the balcony. Give it five minutes and then return, if he is still not there you had to go back home. Your mentor forbid you to do anything else as it could jeopardize the whole assassination. Better to not attempt a failed murder and just regroup to find the next best opportunity.

It was already dark. The stars were up in the sky next to a full moon. A beautiful night for a sneak mission. Yeah, you were still not over that.

You took a good look over the view from the balcony. Right beneath it was a beautiful garden with all kinds of different flowers and hedges. Placed in such a way that it almost looked like a maze. In the middle was a beautiful fountain placed. Silently splashing in the night. It was then when you noticed someone sitting at the fountain, hunched over. Their back turned to you.

“That damned Prince.” You muttered. Of course you haven’t seen him in the ball room he has been hiding out there. This was perfect! He was alone!

Not trying to show your hurry you walked painfully slow back into the ball room, then out the room and snuck your way out into the garden. Before visiting the palace you had to learn the basic layout of the castle which honestly hammer back in how unnecessary this building was. So many rooms with no real use.

Outside, once you got close enough to the prince, you slowly pulled a dagger out that was hidden on your body. All you had to do was stab him. Either in the throat or heart. Easy enough. Wouldn’t be the first time.

Though as you stepped closer Eret tensed up. Did he hear you? You made sure to be as quiet as possible, there was no way.

“So, I’ve been found.” He spoke and turned around.

As he did you put both your arms behind your back, hiding the dagger in your hands. Trying to put a soft smile on your face to look more friendly “I am sorry, your highness. I saw you from up in the balcony and excuse my manner of speech but you seemed a bit miserable. Who would I be if I didn’t check up on the future ruler.”

Horrible.

Wait, did he roll his eyes?

“Oh, sure. I’m good. You can go back to the ball and enjoy it.”

This really wasn’t what you expected. You thought he would speak in this posh manner as all the others up in the ball room but he seemed almost normal. In fact everything seemed suspiciously normal. He wasn’t sitting up straight, his shoulders slouched, mask askew, clothing splotched by water. This prince was far removed from being what you considered princely.

To your horror you let out a chuckle. Where was your control all of the sudden? The prince eyed you with a curious gaze.

Embarrassed you tried to salvage this situation somehow “Oh, I’m sorry. I just didn’t expect you to be so-“

But Eret interrupted you “So undisciplined? Rude, even?” There was some bite to his words. Someone must have really laid in on him because of his behavior if that is how he reacted.

You shook your head “I would describe you as normal. Not snobbish like the others.”

For some reason he relaxed at that. A smile appeared on his face “Sorry if this offends you but you seem rather normal compared to the others as well if you see me like that.”

“Thank god for that.” You sighed.

The prince chuckled “Well, I’m glad to have met a somewhat kindred spirit then. I’m curious though. Can you tell me your name?”

“Y/N” you answered. Why did you say that? A blush spread on your face. Oh god, you are so screwed, oh no. Any name would have been fine but why did you blurt your real name out?

Eret took off his mask. Now you could see his genuine smile even more clearly “It’s nice to meet you, Y/N.”

“Ye- Yeah.” You stammered as you tried to mirror his smile. You needed to get out of there, now.

This went downhill way too fast.

Your heart hammered against your chest, you felt rigid while also shaking out of nervousness, your cheeks were red and warm. Honestly you would love to just push your face into the fountain to get out of this shocked state.

The prince looked so genuine under the moonlight. You mentally slapped yourself as you noticed that he was looking pretty handsome under this light.

“Want to sit here with me a bit? From what you described you didn’t seem to be the biggest fan of the ball as well.”

You nodded as you inched towards him and sat down. He returned to look back up at the stars. There were no words exchanged, yet it felt somewhat intimate. At least to you.

Gripping the dagger, still hidden behind your back, you waged your options. Just a stab. Right now. It would be easy. Just stab him!

But your body refused to move. What was all that grueling training for if you couldn’t kill your target? Hell, you have killed people before so why were you now having your troubles? Was it because this time your mentor wasn’t with you? Were you really so incompetent alone?

Then the music changed. You could still hear the music from the garden. It was quiet but still audible. The change of music pulled you back out of your thoughts. Taking a deep breath you finally made your decision.

You slowly opened your hand, letting the dagger fall slowly with almost no sound into the water behind you. Something in you stopped you from doing the job, no sense in jeopardizing the whole operation by making a mistake. All you had to do was get out and deal with the consequences then.

Just as you wanted to get up Eret turned to you. A blush on his face as well “I’m not good with this but would you care for a dance?”

He was cute you thought in horror.

“A dance? Out here?”

Eret let out a nervous laugh that send the butterflies in your stomach into a frenzy “I mean, would you prefer dancing between the others? Of course if you don’t want to dance I understand. It’s not really something a lot of people like.”

Biting your lip you stood up “One dance. Then I have to go. It is getting late and my family is waiting for me.” Somewhat of a lie. You considered the Syndicate as your family but you weren’t blood related.

Eret’s nervous expression turned into a happy smile. He stood up and took your hand in his. Giving you a little wink as he led you away from the fountain so you both had more room to move in. Your heart couldn’t handle this.

Together the two moved in tandem to the music. Giggling every time both of you made mistakes. Stepping on each other’s toes, almost crashing into one of the hedges or just making up your own dance moves that didn’t fit to the music that was softly playing in the background.

“Would it be rude of me to wish this dance never ended?” Eret asked. His voice soft with an emotion you didn’t dare to accept to be there.

You laughed “No, I too wish this would never end.” It was the truth.

“So tell me your full name or a way to get into contact with you if that is alright with you. I would love to stay in contact.”

That blush would never leave your face, huh.

It took a moment before you answered “I will get into contact with you, that is a promise alright?”

You then moved towards him, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek and as he sucked in a breath you let go of him. Moving away back inside, leaving the place in a relative hurry, all while Eret was still scrambling and trying to understand what just happened.

He tried to follow but you gave him a warning glare, stopping him in his tracks.

As you moved away from him he softly touched his check, returning back to the fountain. He couldn’t help giggling to himself. Whatever just happened it was the first time in a long while that he truly felt happy. His heart beating rapidly as he put his hands on the side of the fountain. Staring down into the water, as his rush of emotions slowly calmed down again.

It was then as he saw something glinting in the water. Curious what it was he moved closer. Surprised he pushed his hand inside the water to get a dagger out. A small dagger, sharp as can be with a few intricate designs at the hilt.

#mcyt x Y/N #mcyt x reader #mcyt reader insert #mcyt fanfiction #reader insert #dream smp fanfiction #dream smp reader insert #dream smp x Y/N #dsmp reader insert #dsmp fanfiction #dsmp x reader #The Eret #The eret smp #the eret dsmp #eret smp #eret dsmp #ramza writes

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nalu4emily · 3 years

Text

The Unexpected Reward - Chapter 17

Summary: Natsu and Lucy go on a job together, but what they bring home is something neither anticipated. Forced to make a life changing decision, they have to adapt quickly, but that's never easy, especially given the circumstances. As they work together on their toughest adventure yet, they find themselves drawn to one another, in ways they never realised. Rated Mature.

"Hey, Flame head! Wait up!" Gray called over, catching the fire mage as he hurriedly made for the guild's exit. "Where're you going in such hurry?"

Turning to catch the ice mage walking straight for him, Natsu stopped to answer, "Home. I left Lucy and Haru asleep this morning, so I better get back to 'em."

"Oh... You've not been at the guild much lately, is everything cool with you?" The ice mage pushed further.

"Uh… Yeah! Been kinda busy and stuff, ya know." The slayer shrugged, not seeming too interested in divulging any further information.

"Well, are ya too busy to come on a mission? It's been some time since our last job together as a team." Gray asked, scratching the back of his head.

"It has been a while, now you mention it… I'd have to ask Lucy if she's feeling up to it yet, she's still not feeling too good… Anyway, catch ya later!" Natsu spoke cheerily and turned back towards the door, his hand reaching for the handle.

"Lucy's been sick for an awfully long time now, Natsu." He heard another voice say, halting him in his tracks, "Are you sure there's not something else going on?" Lisanna came up and elbowed him playfully in the arm.

"Hm?" He replied, retracting his arm back to his side.

"That's right! Lucy hasn't shown her face in months now. Has something happened? Are you guys having relationship issues?!" Levy gasped at the thought, her eyes wide with her mouth hung low.

"Relationship issues?" Natsu cocked his eyebrow in disdain; what kind of nonsense was that?

"I think you're getting a little carried away there, Shrimp. You've been reading too many books again." Gajeel teased, poking Levy's pouted cheek as he came up from behind. "And Lucy hasn't been gone that long… has she?"

"How suspicious… His beloved is sick and yet he's not with her!" Juvia murmured, appearing creepily behind Gray, making him shudder. "What is he hiding?"

"I'm not hiding anything! You guys are looking way too much into this." Natsu lied, but for good reason.

The truth was a little more complicated than that. With Lucy being so unwell, she'd not been able to leave the confines of their house, having suffered greatly in the first months of her pregnancy. It'd been hard for the both of them, but Natsu had promised to look after her—to not leave her side, and he'd kept to his word. Having skipped out on job after job, and taking longer and longer breaks between each visit to the guild, it was only natural for their friends to worry and speculate, but it did put him right in the firing line.

He was wasting time. He had to get back to his partner and son, it wasn't fair to keep them waiting. The guild would get their long awaited answers when Lucy returned, which with any luck, would be very soon.

"Can I go now? I got things to take care of." Natsu huffed, starting to get frustrated with their incessant intrusiveness.

Trying to slip out from under the guilds snooping nose, the fire mage was beginning to question whether that was even an option any more, not with the amount of people now crowding him, wanting in on the action. He just hoped the great Titania didn't decide to intervene, then he'd be doomed.

"What things would that be then, Natsu? You're not usually this secretive." Lisanna hinted again, even more curious than before. "I thought you said you had to go home?"

"Just leave the kid alone, he's got his reasons." Laxus shrugged nonchalantly, pretending not to be interested, when really he'd heard everything.

"Yes, listen to Laxus!" Freed jumped in, also creepily appearing out of no where, making the lightning mage quiver. "Natsu doesn't need you all pestering him!"

Said boy sighed, glad to have someone on side and took the opportunity to make his leave—But things were never going to be that easy. The slayer found himself almost smacking his head against the thick, wooden door frame, utterly exasperated, when yet another of his guild mates decided to pipe up and add their two pennies worth.

"Yes, you're right. However, doesn't he usually have the kid with him? Why not today? So many questions that have yet to be answered. It makes you wonder really…" Evergreen chortled to the dubious guild members, hiding her conniving smirk behind her fan.

This was getting out of hand! They were just going 'round and around in circles and at this rate he would never leave. Being backed into a corner, he had no idea what was really going on. His guild mates were chucking all sorts of nonsensical bullshit at him.

Who knew what they were accusing him of? Because he sure as hell didn't know, and was pretty convinced now that they didn't either.

"I've already said Haru's at home with Lucy… The only reason I'm here, is to check in with Mira to make sure everything's ready for his party later. You know, for his birthday today." He explained once again, sighing loudly and slumping forward in despair. "I wasn't gonna bring him in early and spoil the surprise, now was I?"

He wouldn't have bothered with any of it, if it hadn't been for the take over mage and her desire to throw some massive party for the little boy, such was the way of Fairy Tail. But this time, Natsu would've much preferred to celebrate at home where Lucy could be present to enjoy it, too. However, Mira had made her own plans, having suddenly sprung the idea upon the unknowing young man one day in passing, and had given him little choice in the matter—his ultimatum much scarier than Erza could ever be.

"We're well aware of the little one's birthday celebrations today, Natsu." Erza's stern voice echoed through the hall, startling everyone into silence and swiftly marched herself right up to the slayer's retreating body. His heart raced as his worst fear became reality and felt a wave of dread as she approached at speed, her hardened features coming in way too close for his comfort. "However, that doesn't mean I'm any less suspicious of you."

"But why?! There's nothing to be suspicious about, I swear!" Holding his hands up in submission, the fire mage was stunned into silence; his mouth dropping open in disbelief; why were they all so hell bent on this? What even was this? He'd told them what he could; what more did they want? "Lucy and Haru are at home where I left them… What else do you want me to tell you?"

"So secretive and elusive… like you have something to hide. Have you no shame?" Ignoring Natsu's plea, the armoured girl had already come to her own conclusions and summoned one of her treasured swords to point directly at the slayer, her icy glare not the only thing threatening to pierce through him, "Our Natsu would never act like this! He's impulsive and reckless and just downright stupid! What have you done with the real one?"

The fire mage would've taken offence, had the red head not so angrily directed her sharp sword at the bridge of his nose. Narrowing his eyes at the sharp metal so close to him, he gulped thickly, praying to whatever god there was, that today of all days, Lucy might just walk through those big doors, saving him from the hell that was Erza Scarlet.

He shook in his sandals, showered in sweat as the red heads sword tip made contact with his skin, pushing his head right up against the wall, "B-But I am the real Natsu…"

"Then prove it! Explain yourself, now!" She was taking no shit from her fiery companion, not after convincing herself that he was, indeed, an imposter.

Desperate not to be on the receiving end of Erza's wrath, Natsu opened his mouth to speak, but just as quickly shut it again when the old guild doors suddenly creaked open. The sound of an infants voice followed by bickering between two others could be heard filling the loud silence, abruptly halting the interrogation of the defeated fire breather.

"See, Happy! I told you he'd be in here!" The young woman pointed, her eyes landing right on the dragon boy she'd been arguing with flying cat about, only realising moments later the presence of Erza's sword and every eyeball in the building staring unashamedly at her, "Uh… Am I interrupting something?"

"Lucy... you're here..." Natsu croaked in relief, never more glad to see his beautiful girlfriend as he sank to the floor. His voice cracking from the genuine fear the older girl had provoked in him, her sword now fully removed from his face. "My sweet saviour…"

"Uh-oh! Is Natsu in trouble again?" Happy giggled, glancing over at his pink haired friend, taking pity on his horror-stricken features.

"Lucy… You're alive?" Erza stated more than asked, stomping over to the young blonde to inspect her further.

"U-Uh…" The girl in question looked down at herself, confirming that she was definitely alive before looking back up again, confusion etched into her expression. "D-Do you want me to answer that?"

"Maybe you should lay off her a little; I'm sure Lucy's had it rough enough." Gray proclaimed bravely, unable to make eye contact with the unsettled knight.

"Please don't scare her off, not when she's only just returned!" Levy all but pushed Erza out of the way and threw herself at the blonde, who was now trying to balance the new weight along with the baby and herself. "I'm so happy to see you! I've missed you, Lu!"

"I've missed you too, Levy, but I'm sure Natsu's kept you updated." Lucy reassured her, then looked up to all of her other friends, "Hasn't he?"

"Natsu told us you hadn't been feeling well, but that's a suspiciously long illness Lucy, one I hope has a good explanation for making us all worry so much." Erza explained, crossing her arms over her chest.

"That's one long tummy bug!" Mira giggled, walking over to the ever growing group to stand near Lucy. "Anyone would think that you were p-" She paused, eyes growing wide with realisation and darted them down to the stellar mages midriff, before promptly fainting on the spot.

"Huh? Mira! Would think, what?! What were you going to say?!" Lisanna yelled, desperately trying to wake her sister up.

"Oh! I get it!" Gray understood, thinking back to the weird conversation he'd had with Natsu in the park and how it all made perfect sense now. "It definitely explains that idiots weird behaviour." He reached out to pat Lucy on the shoulder affectionately and smiled at her, then turned to smirk at said fire mage still recoiling on the ground. "So that's the way you wanna play? Game on, Pyro!"

Turning his head, Natsu smirked back, accepting the silent challenge as he jumped back up to his feet, looking cocky as ever, "You know it, Frosty!"

"Wait, what does Gray know? Is he a part of it too?" Levy gasped, pointing her accusatory finger at the demon slayer.

"Hell no!" Natsu and Gray yelled out in defence, both offended and totally disgusted by the very thought.

"Then what? What is going on here?" Cana shouted from her bench, having heard everything. "Quit with the suspense and just be out with it already!"

"Juvia understands." Out of the shadows, said water mage appeared before her once 'love rival' and smiled happily at the girl she was about to congratulate, "Juvia is so very happy for you both!" She looked down to her own rounded tummy and placed a hand on it, a noticeable difference in size to Lucy's, "They will be the best of friends, Juvia is sure of it."

Lucy's smile reached the corners of her eyes, relieved the rain woman didn't see this as another rivalry, like their partners apparently did, "Thanks Juvia, I'm sure they will be, despite what their father's might think." They both giggled at the expense of the boys gormlessly standing there, along with the rest of the guild, who still had no idea.

"Hold up! So, what does that mean? You're having a baby too, Lucy?" Lisanna asked, cradling her sisters limp body.

The guild's eyes fell to Lucy, more specifically her stomach where if they looked closely, they would see a small, but noticeable bump stretching out her pink summer dress. She could see the expectant faces of her friends waiting for her to answer, and the warm presence of her beloved dragon slayer come to stand next to her, obviously noticing her hesitancy.

"Natsu, I think you should tell them, I know you're dying to." She murmured, her voice quiet but firm.

"Are ya sure, Luce?" He asked, assuming she'd want to do it after all this time, but seeing the certainty in her eyes and the bright smile lifting her cheeks, he took her hand and turned back to the crowd, not needing any more confirmation than that. He glanced at each person in turn, a sense of pride filling his chest as the words left his mouth, "Heck yeah, we are!"

The entire guild erupted in a chorus of whistles and loud cheers, shaking the very foundations of the building in their excitement for the couple, "Oh, wow! Thanks guys! You're too kind!" Lucy's smile shone brighter than it had done in ages, overwhelmed with glee that their guild mates were so pleased for them.

"They've all been worried about ya, Luce." Natsu whispered closely so only she could hear and leaned in to kiss her cheek, knowing just how much this all meant to her. He took the excitable little guy off her hands, giving her the freedom to catch up with everybody.

"I knew it! I knew there was something fishy about you two! But congratulations guys, that's great news!" Levy cheered, ready to get down to the nitty gritty of every dirty detail.

"You had us worried there, Lucy. For a while, I thought you were never coming back!" Lisanna shared, hugging the celestial mage tightly, probably a little too tight.

"Oh… I'm sorry to have made you all worry, but I'm feeling much better now." The blonde explained, a light tint of pink dusting her cheeks from all the attention she was getting.

She could see Natsu hadn't moved too far away from her and tilted her head to look at him. Chuckling to herself, she could hear Erza try to apologise to him, suggesting the boy punch her right in the face for making such a mistake, a suggestion that was right up his alley, if it weren't for Haru in his arms.

Catching his beautiful blonde staring at him through the corner of his eye, he turned in her direction and winked, grinning as he held the little boy up on his shoulders to walk back over to her, "You feeling alright, Luce?" He asked, worried she may have forced herself into attending the celebrations before she was ready.

She nodded shyly, a little taken aback by the overwhelming attention she was receiving. Feeling his hand once again take hold of hers, she stared up into his confident eyes, then up to the child having the time of his life on his fathers shoulders, "I'm okay, but today's about Haru, not me, and I wasn't gonna miss this for the world." She grinned up at the small boy and reached up to stroke his cheek affectionately, chuckling at his enormous smile.

"You're right! Come on, Lucy! I wanna show you what we've done!" Natsu all but dragged the poor girl outside, Haru and Happy in tow, to show her the sheer amount of effort that had gone in to making Haru's first birthday, special.

The entire guilds courtyard had been lit up like a Christmas tree, with nothing left untouched. Banners and bunting of every colour hung from every post, table and tree. Tables upon tables of delicious food had been laid out with the most gargantuan home made birthday cake (courtesy of Mira) proudly sat in the middle of it all. An enormous pile of gifts had also been laid out, all individually wrapped with little cards to say whom they were from and most importantly, the pool had been filled with all kinds of fun inflatables and toys for all the children to play with.

Lucy looked around in amazement. She couldn't believe they'd gone to so much effort just for a one year old, a child that would unfortunately never remember this, but it didn't matter, she and Natsu would for him. "This is incredible, Natsu! I can't believe you did all this without me!"

"Don't sound too surprised; I can help organise things when I want to. And it wasn't all me, Mira came up with the idea." He looked up to the child above him and chuckled, "You like it, Haru?" The child had no idea what was going on, with no concept of birthdays or parties, he simply cheered anyway, responding to his Daddy's infectious grin, "Good! Well then Luce, let's get this party started!"

With his grin turning evil, he squeezed her hand tight and dived head first into the pool, with no consideration for his, Lucy's or Haru's clothing. She yelped at the top of her voice, her only reply a cackle before being submerged under water, thus setting the mood for the rest of the day.

After a full afternoon of playing with the other children, eating lots of cake and other treats, and opening presents, Haru found himself in the pool once again, this time in more appropriate attire for the water. A pair of cute little lion themed trunks (gifted by Loke), and a cute turtle inflatable ring adorning his middle (a present from Lisanna), made it much easier for him to stay above the surface while enjoying a swim in the water.

Natsu, in his usual flamed swim shorts, also found himself in the pool, diving under and popping back up in random places to surprise the little boy. Haru loved a good game of peek-a-boo, the anticipation of where his Daddy was going to pop up next was just too exhilarating. He squealed and laughed every time he resurfaced, then his eyes would grow wide in anticipation when he dived back down again.

"Gotcha!" Natsu exclaimed, appearing behind the little guy and grabbing his sides. "Does Haru want a go?" He asked, lifting him out of the rubber ring and holding him above the surface with just his hands, letting the infant tread the water to keep himself up, "Look at you! You'll be swimming in no time!"

Lucy watched on from her sun lounger, not remotely amused that the slayer had got her cute dress soaked, or that she now had to lay in just her pastel blue bikini, feeling somewhat self conscious with everyone staring at her exposed belly. She laid comfortably basking in the hot sunlight kissing her skin, trying to catch some semblance of a tan, relaxing while she could. She felt happy, content even, thankful that her symptoms had calmed down just in time for Haru's big day.

It'd been a long time since she'd been able to do this without having to run to the bathroom. With no spell or potion being strong enough to truly rid her of the awful feeling, she'd become well acquainted with the toilet in their house, having spent most of her time with her nose down it. It'd been hard over the last few months adapting to her changing body, her wild mood swings and questionable cravings, but she also knew it would be worth it in the end and it was on days like this, with her friends and loved ones surrounding her that she sincerely felt it.

Smiling to herself, Lucy placed her hand on her small, protruding stomach, feeling the tiny flutterings of the little one moving around inside, "You're an active little one today." She giggled, looking to be talking to herself by onlookers, but she didn't mind. "Then again, you're active everyday."

"Juvia's baby is quite active too, but he's closer to his due date than yours and is much bigger." Juvia said, coming to sit on the next lounger. She cradled her own, much larger bump that'd been covered by a flowy, light green summer dress, finding her regular clothes to form fitting and hot to wear now. "It's quite the feeling when he does somersaults in Juvia's belly."

"He? You're having a boy?" Lucy asked, intrigued to learn more and catch up with her friend.

"Yes, Porlyusica told us the last time we visited. Juvia always imagined she'd have a little boy, maybe watching Haru has something to do with that." She gleamed, looking over to the small fella splashing about in the pool still, having the time of his life with his father.

"I'm so pleased for you! I bet Gray was thrilled!" The blonde exclaimed, knowing he would be.

"Of course! Gray was very pleased. In fact, he made us go out and buy all the boys clothes we could find in the market afterwards. Then he took Juvia home and made-"

"No, it's okay… I don't think I need to know any more!" Lucy felt her cheeks burn red at the very thought.

"Made Juvia dinner…" The water mage finished, furrowing her brows at Lucy's assumption.

"O-Oh… Oops! Sorry Juvia, I thought you were going to say that you guys-"

"Made love? I think those hormones are getting the better of you, Lucy." Cana appeared, wagging her imaginary tail at the slightest mention of sex. "They say you get more horny when you're pregnant. I bet you and Natsu are at it all of the time? Actually, I'm kinda surprised he's not over here right now, with you looking all juicy like that!"

"Cana!" Lucy spluttered, her cheeks burning even more furiously. "You can't say things like that in public!" She didn't want to discuss her sex life in front of others, even if what they were saying was true—when she wasn't heaving of course.

"She's right though, Lucy. Juvia hasn't been unable to keep her hands off of Gray." The blue haired girl reaffirmed, her eyes like love hearts as she thought of her beloved Gray. "And Gray hasn't been able to keep his hands off Juvia, either."

"Wow, looking kinda smug there… You were like that any way…" Cana murmured, shaking her head at the love struck girl.

Well, there went Lucy's relaxing in silence, now she could barely keep from her head exploding—Good ol' Cana! "I don't wanna hear any more!" The celestial mage reiterated, covering her ears for emphasis.

"Oh, come on, Lucy! You're pregnant! That didn't happen by accident! You and Natsu knew exactly what you were doing." Cana retorted, moving herself closer to the flustered girl, her boozy breath permeating the air.

"U-Uh… Well… No, actually. It was kind of an accident…" Lucy admitted, feeling a little awkward by saying that out loud, her friends surprised faces not helping matters, "But it was a good accident!"

"Huh… And here I was thinking you were the cautious type, Lucy… Not that it matters. It's good to let the mood just take ya." Cana grinned, her shock forgotten.

"Don't look so ashamed Lucy, you'll both have another sweet baby to call your own and that's a wonderful thing. I imagine Natsu was over the moon when you both found out." Mira beamed her usual motherly smile as she came to sit near them all, having wanted to get the details on Lucy's pregnancy since earlier, "If Juvia's is a boy, then I bet yours is going to be a girl, Lucy."

"You think so?" The blonde asked back, never having actually considered what the sex would be before, but the thought of having a little girl join the family sounded rather appealing, especially in a house dominated by boys.

"Yes, with Haru as well, we need a little girl to make it more even. And she's gonna have the cutest pink hair and big brown eyes, I can just see it now!" Mira was off in a little world of her own, thinking of blue haired baby boys and pink haired baby girls—she was incorrigible.

"Boy or girl, I just hope that after living in a house full of ravenous beasts, this little one might be more like me. Haru's just a dark haired Natsu, he even laughs like him." Lucy placed her hand where she could feel the little movements of her baby and chuckled down, "But who am I kidding? You've already got your father's energy, that's for sure."

"Hey! Don't say that like it's a bad thing, Luce!" Natsu overheard as he appeared out of no where. "There's nothing wrong with having a mini-me, ain't that right, kid?" He hi-fived the now dry child in his arms, having already dried himself using his magic. "Who cares what they are or who they look like? You'll be in there somewhere, Luce; you're their mother, after all."

"Yeah, you're right." She said, always fascinated by Natsu's simplistic, yet logical way of thinking.

"Any way, it's getting kinda late, I was gonna take Haru somewhere a bit more quiet," Natsu gestured to the current brawl taking place behind him.

"Leaving so soon?" Mira asked, standing to say goodbye to the grizzly birthday boy.

"Yeah, he's all pooped out from the busy day he's had and I think he's ready to go to sleep now. Thanks for organising it, Mira!" He said, before turning swiftly to Lucy, "You coming?"

The bikini clad girl jumped to her feet and stretched her arms up, feeling the tiredness begin to set in, completely unaware of her partners roaming gaze, "Yeah, sure... Just let me put my dress-"

"Lucy! Watch out!" She heard Natsu shout suddenly as she bent to grab the item of clothing.

Feeling herself being pushed back onto the sun lounger, she flailed and reached her arms out to catch herself. Darting her eyes up to see what was going on, she was met with the exposed back of the dragon slayer that had moved to shield her from something. Smoke clouded him and the infant; an unfamiliar heat emanated off of his body. The girl hadn't seen what'd happened, or what she'd been saved from, but if the harsh, heavy breathing of the man in front of her was anything to go by, it was a close call.

"Natsu…" She started, but stalled there after, unsure of what more to say to him.

"What the heck do you think you're doing, you old geezer! Do you have any idea what could've happened just then?!" Natsu bellowed, his voice teeming with rage as his eyes narrowed at the culprit. "You're lucky I was here to catch your stupid attack, or that would've gone straight for Lucy!"

The brawl had come to a complete stand still and Macao, the one that'd thrown a fire ball initially at Wakaba, had gone ghostly pale as the dragon slayer's piercing gaze stared him down. "Hey man, I'm sorry… I didn't even know she was there, it was an accident!" He held his hands up in submission, not wanting to enter into a fight with the maddened slayer, knowing that was one he'd never win. "We got a little carried away, that's all."

"Oh yeah? Maybe I should go all out and see how you like it? Try and dodge this one!" Natsu roared, sending a blazing ball of fury of his own hurtling through the air, aiming it right at Macao's cowering body. Turning hotfooted back to Lucy, the distant cries of the offender being struck by his magic was like music to his ears, his anger satiated.

"Are you hurt, Luce? Did anything hit you?" He did a full search of her body, checking for any kind of injury. His worried eyes eventually fell upon her exposed belly and instinctually brought his hand out to caress it softly, "Is the baby okay?"

Smiling up at him, she brought her own hand to rest on his cheek and pulled him closer, loving just how protective he could be, "Of course, our baby's fine. No need to worry." She guided his palm to where the little one was doing somersaults and allowed him to feel the light pads against his skin.

Unable to keep his infectious grin down for long, he pushed his mouth hastily against Lucy's in a kiss that turned heated all too quickly. Buzzing with adrenaline from the incident, Natsu moved his hand from her belly and tangled his fingers into her hair, holding her in place as he enjoyed the taste of her warm lips.

"That's it, fire breath, you took it too far this time!" He heard Gray shout from behind him, knocking him out of his 'Lucy' trance and pull away, glancing over his shoulder, "Look at what you've done to the pool, you dumbass!" The ice mage pointed to the steaming pit that was once the guilds pool, fuming at the state of it.

"Ha! Looks like you and Juvia are gonna have a fun time filling that back up!" Natsu guffawed, passing the fidgety Haru to Lucy.

"Screw you, Pinky! You're going down!" Gray threatened, launching himself at the fire wizard and starting yet another brawl.

Rolling her eyes, Lucy looked down at the sleepy boy rubbing his tired eyes, and decided to creep away from the fight that just seemed to be attracting more and more people, "Come on then, sweetheart. It looks like Daddy's got himself distracted again." She chuckled, disappearing back inside before anyone had noticed she was gone.

By the time the evening swept in, Lucy had found herself a quiet spot up on a small hill a little ways from the guild, overlooking the lake behind it. She sat cosily against one of the many old oak trees, with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders and the baby laid across her chest, begrudgingly, but slowly falling asleep. She hummed her sweet lullaby to soothe her tuckered out child, hoping to coax him into closing his eyes.

It was moments like this that she cherished the most with Haru, just her and him with no one to interrupt. The atmosphere was peaceful and calm, exactly what she was looking for compared to the ruckus that was the guild's 'after' party that continued on down the street. She could even hear the rumble of their antics from where she sat, but luckily, it was pretty muffled, unable to spoil her quietude.

After weeks of staying at home, it sure made a pleasant change to be watching the sunset instead. She'd grown tired and achy after such a busy day, her feet were sore and her head had grown weary, but still she watched contented as the beautiful evening began to fade.

The young mother could finally hear the soft, even breaths of the slumbering child and gently placed him upon her bent up legs, covering him with her blanket to keep him from feeling the chill in the air. Staring at his little angelic features, she found it hard to fathom how drastically her life had changed compared to just twelve months before. She'd grown so much as a person and gained everything she'd ever wanted and more, making new memories along the way.

She and Natsu had unknowingly plunged themselves into a completely new world, taking on the responsibility of an abandoned child and calling him their own. Haru had opened their eyes to a life they never thought they'd get to experience, especially not with each other. The little boy had brought them together in a way that would forever bind them, creating the family unit they were today. It only seemed fitting to name this day as Haru's official birthday, for it was the day his life, and theirs, had begun anew.

Leaning her head back against the tree, becoming lost in her memories, her eyelids began to close, a wave of exhaustion rushing over her while sleep tempted her in. A rustle of a nearby bush was quick to quash that feeling though, as a startled Lucy snapped her eyes wide open and darted her head over to where the sound had come from.

"Oh, Natsu… It's just you…" She breathed, laying her bleary eyes onto that familiar toothy grin and untameable pink hair, a scaly, white scarf to match. "Tell me, what were you doing hiding in the bushes?"

"Looking for you." He said simply, walking out onto the hillside to join her, having deliberately left out the part that he'd been hiding there for much longer than he'd care to admit. In fact, one might say he'd been there the entire time, watching the beauty that was Lucy quietly sing their son to sleep and hadn't wanted to disturb her until she'd finished. "You left, so I had to come find ya."

"Oh, you didn't have to. I just wanted to settle Haru before he started getting grumpy. It's nice and quiet out here." Her voice sounded airy and light, her eyes half lidded and a little bloodshot. "You can go back and join the others if you want, I'm okay." She offered, but Natsu knew better than that, he always did.

"You don't have to pretend for me, Lucy. I can see how tired you are." He'd learnt pretty quickly in the past few months that pregnancy didn't just make her exceptionally sick, but that it had an array of different symptoms, some physical and others emotional, but all unpleasant and incredibly draining for her. "Why would I leave any way, you're all out here?"

"Happy's not."

"Yeah, and Happy's capable of looking after himself. He's too interested in Carla to notice we're even gone. You know what he's like." Natsu explained, scooting closer to Lucy to take the infant from her legs.

He set the baby down in his lap to keep him warm, the fluffy blanket tightly swaddling his body. The two mages cuddled up to one another, watching the twinkling stars come out to glimmer and shine down onto the glistening water in the distance.

"It's crazy to think it's been an entire year since we brought him home. Who knows where we'd be without him here?" Lucy reminisced, her gaze drifting from the moonlit lake, to the baby snoring peacefully without a single care in the world. "Or where his life might've gone, if we hadn't taken him in."

"We'd be what we always were," Natsu stated bluntly, tearing his own gaze away to look at the girl beside him, "Best friends, going on adventures and honestly, that's kinda the sad truth of it all. As for Haru…" He glanced down at his cuddled up son, smiling sadly as he remembered the first time he ever set eyes on the tiny, lifeless baby, that fateful day, "I made a promise to keep him safe; to make sure he lived… He was always going to come with me, there was never another choice. I just didn't know it then."

"And I'll be forever grateful that he did, because..." Lucy cleared her throat, feeling a little emotional at the thought, "Now, I have you and him! And nothing has ever made me happier! Choosing to adopt a child was the most daunting thing I've ever done, but it's proven to be the best decision I've ever made, one I'll always be thankful for." She gave her own toothy smile, a slight tint of pink dusting her cheeks as she poured her heart out to him.

Natsu felt his heart squeeze tight, her words reminiscent of his own feelings and quirked his lips up at her. Reaching his hand forward, he smoothed his fingers through her golden locks, before coming to rest it under her ear, guiding her to him, "Me too, Luce. Which is why…"

Lucy's breathing deepened the closer she got and felt his other hand come up to hold hers tenderly, paying no mind to him fiddling with her fingers, "Which is why, what? Is there something else?" She asked, cocking her head cutely as their breaths began to mingle. "Natsu?" Her eyes fluttered between his dark ones, waiting expectantly for him to finish.

"I… I wanna ask you something." He murmured just before claiming her mouth, connecting their lips in a kiss so sickly sweet, it made Lucy's belly fill with butterflies.

She could have melted into a puddle right then and there, the feel of his affections always had a way of making her turn to goo in his hands. Her spine shivered and the adrenaline buzzed through her system, not having the capacity to comprehend the words that'd been spoken, for her mind had been taken over by the feel of his hot mouth. Letting go of her hand, he snaked his fingers up to the other side of her neck and pulled her closer, craving those sweet cherry lips that he liked to nip at with his teeth.

Her fingers were now free to roam and touch as they pleased, tangling them up through his hair and tugging on the pink strands at the base of his neck. Desperate for breath, she pulled herself away and gazed into his half lidded eyes for mere seconds, before he impatiently delve down to ravish her neck. The sucking and biting just under her ear caused small gasps and whimpers to escape the increasingly aroused celestial mage, her eyes fogging with lust, until something bright caught her attention.

"What was that?" She asked panting, her voice raspy as she tried to catch sight of whatever it was again. It had flickered like a light, shined like a reflection and sparkled all at once, making her wonder if she'd really seen anything at all.

"What was what, Lucy?" He asked her, not meaning to sound quite so unsurprised, when usually he was the first to go looking for trouble.

"I thought I saw…" She didn't really know what she'd seen, her mind too muddled from the heated moment they were having; maybe it was just her eyes playing tricks? Or worse… someone was spying on them.

Natsu clasped at the hand she had buried in his hair and brought it into view, "Was it this, maybe?" He asked, drawing attention to one specific digit.

Feeling the contrast between his warm skin and the cold hardness of something else against her finger, Lucy peered down in curiosity, her breath stalling when her eyes laid upon the object of confusion. Gasping loudly, she clasped at her mouth, two enlarged chocolate orbs flickered between him and her hand in utter astonishment. Somehow, in the midst of their make out session, Natsu had managed to band the most simplistic, yet beautiful ring onto her finger, where it sat proudly and spoke of untold intentions.

"It's… I-It's beautiful! B-But how did you- When-" She stuttered, too lost in what this all might mean, searching deep within his dark eyes for the answers to her silent, but obvious questions.

"That's the right finger, isn't it?" He asked, looking uncharacteristically nervous, a small pink hue dabbing his cheeks. His heart was beating much quicker than he would've liked, hoping he hadn't screwed up already.

That was all she needed to hear to confirm her suspicions, her brown eyes wet with unshed tears, "N-Natsu, I… I don't know what to say-" She couldn't speak, this was too much and he'd not said anything yet.

"Lucy…" He spoke with every sincerity, taking the ringed hand and entwined their fingers. "I'm not so good with this stuff, but I know that getting married is important to you, which makes it important to me, too. I promised you forever and I guess you could say, this is me making good on that promise." He caressed her soft cheek with his thumb and smiled when he saw the glint in her eyes shine back at him. "So, what do you say? Prepared to commit yourself to this," he gestured to himself and winked playfully, "For the rest of your life?"

Finding herself unable to keep her emotions in check, the girl didn't answer, but instead, launched herself at him, giving him barely any time to move the slumbering child out of the way and brace for impact. Landing on top of the winded dragon slayer, she managed to catch herself with her hands and gleamed down at him, tears falling from her eyes and the smile on her face rivalling his. She leant down and connected their lips once again, taking the lead this time, unable to keep her happiness from pouring out.

To the side, still held in Natsu's opened out arm, was Haru, completely unaware of what was going down, his dreams taking him to far off places. His developing sibling in his Mommy's tummy, however, didn't seem quite so pleased, having been wedged between the two loved up adults as they made out under the sea of stars, had decided to take matters into their own hands. With one almighty kick, the kiss came to a quick halt when Lucy groaned and pulled back, grabbing hold of her bump to sooth the sore area.

"Jeez! Was that the baby kicking you? 'Cause even I felt that one!" Natsu looked surprised, amazed that their baby was so strong, at just five months, that he'd been able to feel the force of the kick against his own abdomen. "Is it still hurting, Luce? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, it just shocked me, that's all. They've never been quite that strong before." She chuckled, sitting herself up and straddling his hips as she looked down to her belly, gently caressing it with her thumb, "You were just trying to tell Mommy to move, weren't you?"

Balancing himself up onto his elbow, Natsu also placed his hand on top of Lucy's bump and smirked, "Or maybe, they were just tryin' to get their Mommy to say yes."

"Like you needed an answer!" Quirking her eyebrow up at his smirk, she shifted back a little as he sat himself up against the tree, laying Haru gently next to them while Lucy remained in place, "But you haven't actually asked me anything yet. Who knows what I could be agreeing to? This is you, after all."

The young man chuckled and grinned his thousand watt smile, knowing she'd catch him out eventually, "Alright, have it your way." The mischievous look on his face didn't disappear, even when he tried to take it seriously, "Will you marry me, Lucy?"

She returned his beaming smile with one of her own, glad to have heard it come from his mouth and nodded her head enthusiastically, "Of course, Natsu, the answer was always a yes."

"Good. Can I go back to kissing you now?" He asked, but didn't bother waiting for a reply and went to pull that enticing mouth back in for a third kiss, hoping this time there'd be no more interruptions in the forms of sparkling rings or unimpressed unborn babies.

But just as their lips were about to touch, Lucy paused ever so tantalisingly close to him and furrowed her brows, causing the boy to sigh impatiently, "What is it now?"

"Have you been holding on to that ring all day?" She enquired, only realising now that he must've got it from somewhere.

"Nah, not all day, just the party. I had to ask Happy to go and get it for me while you were distracted with Haru." Natsu explained, scratching the back of his head, "I was gonna do it myself, but stuff happened and then you suddenly showed up."

"Stuff… happened?" Now she was even more curious; what could've gone on in her absence?

"Yeah… them." He shivered still traumatised, pointing over to where Fairy Tail's guild hall stood, still alive and partying, and Lucy understood immediately just what he was referring to, giving her an insight into what she'd unsuspectingly walked in on earlier that day. "So, I had to change up my plans."

"Oh! Why didn't you just do it tomorrow instead? Rather than make it difficult for yourself." She asked, feeling a little smug when she saw the light go on in his brain.

She'd stumped him there. Always the brains of the operation, he couldn't believe he hadn't thought of that. He'd wanted to do it on a day that meant something to the both of them, but really, did it matter? The result would've been the same.

Noticing her cocky smirk and the playfulness in her eyes, he rose to the challenge, a fire in his belly, "Because, Miss Know-it-all, today was special, just like you said… And it wasn't difficult… I had it all under control…"

"Uh-huh…" She watched him become a little fidgety as if he weren't quite telling the truth and her smirk widened into a smug, toothy grin, "So you were just pretending to be scared when Erza was threatening you? I get it."

His eyes were sharp and intense, just like they were in battle, the one sided grin to boot as he bore into her playful expression, "Your playing with fire, Lucy…" His voice dangerous and brimming with cockiness.

"Then let it burn." She whispered close to his ear, barely able to get the words out before she found herself being forced onto her back, her hands held down above her head, with a fired up dragon slayer carefully leant over her form.

"You asked for it!" He growled, gulping down a large breath as he connected his mouth to the sensitive skin of her neck, torturing her senses with his loving but fierce embrace.

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a-lil-bi-furious · 3 years

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Scisaac :D

oof, thank you for this ask, and I am so sorry this took so long to respond. It’s finals season and I grossly underestimated how much I have to do 😅 But here it is, in all it's (hopefully understandable) rambling glory: Scisaac

*aggressively hits ship button*

1) What made you ship it?

I’ve been on the Scisaac train for a looooong time now. When I was first watching Teen Wolf, during my own very teen-y but non-wolfy years, I don’t think I actually started to ship them until a bit into 3A. When I re-watched the show, though, that scene in the club with “No, I mean you. I don’t want you to get hurt.” had me as done for as Isaac. (There’s this lovely gif set someone made, too, that’s just a close up on their hands during the syringe hand-off, and all the subtle, soft finger brushing makes me go feral.) Anyway, that scene was the shipping spark, but it wasn’t really what established Scisaac as an important relationship to me.

For me, the scene in the clinic with the dog (in 2x11 “Battlefield”) is what really cemented that. It’s funny, because this scene really isn’t a shipping scene, right? This is a learning moment which focuses more on resident-mentor Alan Deaton extending to Isaac the opportunity to learn how to use his abilities for something other than anger and power. And I love it so much for that! But the interaction between Scott and Isaac makes me weak. Because you’ve got Isaac--this jaded, abused kid who holds a lot of resentment and fear and accepted the bite, most likely, to feel like he had some modicum of control in his life and the strength to not feel helpless anymore, and in the end externalized all of that rage--experiencing this moment of raw vulnerability with two people who, by all counts, should want nothing to do with him. And we can talk about how that moment in the club was probably one of the first times anyone has shown genuine concern for Isaac’s well-being (and how this act of kindness was coming from someone he’s been hostile to) in who knows how long, but what about the first moment Isaac acts in compassion and tenderness? How long has it been since he considered himself capable of feeling something that wasn’t pain, fear, or that deep seated fury which swallows everything else? How long has it been since Isaac knew any language other than violence? For a moment he’s cracked open and everything is overwhelming and rather than using his hands as weapon and shield, he’s using them to heal. He cries, and for a moment he’s even startled--maybe scared. And what does Scott do? He immediately offers a point of connection and consolation (“It’s okay, I cried the first time he showed me, too.”)

Scott has this heart which is (sometimes dangerously) open and exposed. He cares and he believes so deeply in humanity and goodness that even when he’s spent weeks(?) fighting Isaac, distrusting Isaac, he’s also been worrying about Isaac. And the way Scott acts in this scene is so soft and curious as he’s standing by, watching. It’s like he’s just been waiting for Isaac to let his guard down just enough to step outside of what Derek’s been teaching him (about anger and control, just like he did Scott). And he gets this tiny little smile on his face as he watches it happen, because I can imagine he knows almost exactly how Isaac is feeling. Scott presents it differently and he often buries it down, but he’s angry too. All the time, at so many things, but he chooses to channel his energy into helping other people. And seeing Isaac, who up until this moment has mostly shown animosity and apathy, brought to tears when he learns he can take pain from others just proves to Scott that the tenderness pays off, that caring heals. Everyone is capable of kindness if they choose it, and to watch Isaac open himself up a little bit to that option--one that hasn’t been available to him for a long time--is incredibly rewarding. It just was such a warm, vulnerable, and genuine exchange between all three of them, and given how closed off Isaac is it was a significant indicator of the safety he was starting to feel around Scott.

2) What are your favorite things about the ship?

re: above, my favorite thing about this ship is how tender and vulnerable each of them can be with the other (in their own ways) and how they challenge each other in ways they both really need. Scott encourages Isaac to turn away from aggression as a solution and to focus more on others, on compassionate and peaceful forms of resolution. (It’s uhhh....a work in progress.) Scott softens Isaac in a way I think he really needs. Conversely, Isaac challenges Scott in ways he really needs. Isaac encourages him to place more focus on himself and actually attend to his needs. And also? I just think they would have fun, because Isaac = trouble and Scott 100% enjoys shenanigans more than he acts like he does. He’s a little shit at heart, and I’m here for Isaac encouraging that.

Also, I think their relationship has a good balance because they’re very different people, but I think that they have some points of relation that run deep in ways many people wouldn’t understand. For one thing, I think that Scott has a foundation of understanding for Isaac’s experience of childhood abuse and how this informs his behavior. This is entirely up to interpretation because the show never specified beyond the time Rafael accidentally(?) pushed Scott down the stairs, but even if Scott didn’t experience physical abuse outside of this incident, it’s pretty clear that Rafael is an angry, violent drunk and that the relationship in that home was toxic and (judging by his interactions with Scott and Melissa) likely emotionally abusive. It probably wasn’t always that way; it wasn’t always that way for Isaac either. The abuse that Isaac endured was different and more severe (at least in a physical sense), and whereas Scott’s dad left when he was ten, Isaac was stuck with his dad until the kanima killed him. But I think that experience of living in a home that doesn’t feel safe is something they both share. Isaac’s initial reaction seems to be to run away or retreat when he’s unsafe, but Scott’s is to make it a safe place. I could ramble on and on, but what I’m getting at is just that I think even with extremely different personalities and ideologies, they’d be able to understand each other in very specific, personal ways and help each other cope. I’m also a huge sucker for the fact that Isaac showed up on the McCall’s doorstep and that Scott’s home literally became his home--but, really, Scott became his home. And rather than run or hide when things are scary, he defends his home now (metaphorical and physical) and keeps building it up again. (And yeah, sometimes defense means beating a guy he already hated senseless over Scott not healing and then Scott probably being less than pleased about it, but it’s a learning curve okay?)

3) Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship?

I’m not sure what the general opinions are on this ship, especially now. But the most unpopular opinion I probably have is about Isaac’s temperament. A lot of people have a tendency to kind of take aforementioned softness and turn Isaac into a very gentle, sweet, puppy-like character, which I just don’t think is realistic. Really and truly, Isaac’s a sarcastic asshole with anger issues and not a whole lot of tact. And, though I tend to think he softens up quite a bit with Scott, I don’t think that changes the nature of his behavior, if that makes sense? I actually think part of the reason Isaac is a good match for Scott in the first place is because he’s this way. Scott has a tendency to ignore his own needs, which often means his wellbeing suffers. Isaac’s the kind of person to point out the bullshit, no sugar-coating, and stubbornly counter Scott’s attempts to excuse his own self-neglect at every turn. Isaac is loyal and caring, yes, but he’s pushy and aggressive about it. And I honestly think Scott needs a partner who won’t put up with his self-sacrifice; he needs someone who’s going to be persistent, because Scott also tends to be pretty obstinate.

In conclusion, I love them your honor.

(Send me a ship and I’ll ramble about why I do/don’t ship it!)

#ty again for the ask friend <3 #spikeface #Teen Wolf #Scisaac #Scott McCall #Isaac Lahey #Ask games #To the other ppl w asks I *will* answer them i promise...just working on an academic paper too so it'll be a bit

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pact-with-faith · 3 years

Text

How Faith Earned Her Pacts: Mammon

When I think about how things might be different if there were more... Faith-like options? How she gets pacts would end up different in some cases! So I've been picking at drabbles to explore this, and here's Mammon's!

Mammon never thought he’d ever even consider making a pact with a human. He’s the Great Mammon! Second eldest of the Avatars of Sin! One of the strongest demons in the entire Devildom! What need would he have for a lowly human?

And yet… he realizes that he does need her. Just not in the way he expected.

Faith was...a strange human. So different from Solomon. She was more like an angel. So focused on taking care of others and helping them, going out of her way to do so. Obedient, and she seems genuinely scared to get in trouble. Not that Mammon can relate! It makes sense for her to not make a fuss though, since she’s surrounded by demons who are just waiting for a chance to eat her and take her soul.

However, there is one way to make her throw her sense of caution to the wind, and raise hell. Not that Mammon knew, at first.

He only realized it when he happened to hear the human talking to Satan, the two in the kitchen, working together on who knows what. Mammon only peeked in long enough to see who was there, and make sure she was safe. He didn’t want Lucifer going for his head if she got hurt, after all. Though he didn’t announce his presence either, because he heard his name, and didn’t want to interrupt the conversation. Surely they were singing his praises!

“...glad to see that Mammon hasn’t been too terrible of an influence.” Satan was saying, chuckling at the end. Asshole.

Mammon heard the human let out a huff, putting down a glass she’d been holding. “You’re all too mean to him.”

Damn straight! But… is she actually defending him? Or just playing into some grander joke?

Satan’s amusement did subside some. “Hardly. He’s a moron, and comes up with the stupidest schemes that hardly ever work out. He makes a fool of himself regularly, and never learns his lesson.” He argued matter of factly, his tone carefully even. No sign of him getting angry yet.

His brother’s words stung, even if he’s heard it a million times. Sure, he tends to act the fool, but… he’s not that stupid. He’d never admit it, (Pride may not be his primary sin, but hell if he doesn’t try to preserve it) but it tears him up that his brothers genuinely think so little of him. And if it’s all some joke, they do a terrible job at showing it.

He honestly expected the human to drop the subject there. She had a habit of avoiding conflict, especially with his brothers. Not that he blames her, they could snap her like a twig if they felt so inclined. And were willing to face Lucifer’s wrath.

“He’s not as stupid as you think,” the human countered, glancing at the blond out of the corner of her eye before fidgeting with her glass, anxiously tapping her nails against it, a habit of hers that Mammon had noticed early on in her stay. She likes the sound. “He may not be the most tactful at times, he may be at the ready with insults, but… he’s not that bad. He’s actually been a huge help, doesn’t seem to really judge me if I get lost at RAD. He actually keeps an eye out for me, and I don’t know if he does it intentionally or not, but his interruptions when I’m doing homework are always perfectly timed, he shows up when I’m getting too frustrated to make any progress, and drags me off to do whatever, and when I get back to work I’ve got fresh eyes.”

There was a heavy silence in the room, and Mammon was so tempted to go in finally, not daring to peek in to see if Satan was getting worked up or not. Knowing that he’d been eavesdropping would make him pissed, whether he was originally or not.

It felt like an eternity before anyone said anything, the silence so thick that Mammon could faintly hear the human’s… Faith’s… heart pounding in her chest.

“I see…” Satan said slowly, clearly trying to choose his words carefully. Why was he being so cautious? It’s not like Faith posed any threat, especially to the Avatar of Wrath. “Even with all of that in mind, it doesn’t change the fact he’s greedy, and stupid to keep stealing from all of us to sell things.” He tried, though Mammon noted a hint of curiosity in his younger brother’s voice. The hell?

There was another pregnant pause, and the shift of fabric as Faith turned to Satan, an eyebrow quirked. “You’re calling him out… for being greedy?” She asked. When Satan gave a nod, curious where this was going, she asked the question again. “You are upset… that Mammon… Avatar of Greed… is greedy?”

The absurdity wasn’t lost on either demon, Satan opting for silence. But by the furrow of his brow, Faith knew she’d have to tread lightly.

She turned back to the counter, picking up her glass and drinking some of the water from it. “I may not know much about how this whole Avatar thing works, or demons, or anything like that…” She started. “But it just… doesn’t make sense to me. Punishing someone for something that they can’t control. Sure, you guys get frustrated with each other when your sins get the better of you. Asmodeus’ constant flirting and innuendo, Beel’s never ending hunger, and so on.” Clearly avoiding any mention of Satan’s Wrath or Lucifer’s Pride. “But you never seem to go at each other half as bad as you do Mammon… and it’s not the fact that his greed is affecting everyone. Beel’s hunger wiping out the kitchen of food affects everyone too.” She added, before Satan could even try to argue that.

With a sigh, she finished off what was in her glass and washed it, her hands shaking lightly. She was too hesitant to face Satan, who clearly hadn’t been expecting such a genuine argument in defense of his older brother. And Mammon hadn’t either. Damn if she wasn’t observant. His first thought was how he could try to take advantage of that for any number of schemes he had cooking, but he dismissed the thought as quickly as it came… it wouldn’t be fair to take advantage of her like that when she’s putting herself at risk to defend him from his own family.

“Why are you defending him so much?” Satan asked, leaning against the counter and crossing his arms as he watched Faith closely. This was clearly intriguing him, though he almost radiated the aura of a cat playing with it’s prey…

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard him refer to you by name. Always ‘human’, typically accompanied by some semblance of an adjective to put you below him. Stupid, puny, et cetera.” Satan tried.

“Well… he isn’t wrong.” Faith shrugged, drying her hands slowly. “I am, in fact, a human,” she started with a small snort as she gestured to herself. “I’m not always the brightest crayon in the box, and typically when he’s calling me out for it I deserve it. And I am shorter than all of you. I’m just a human, one without any magic for that matter. So technically, I am below everyone else in the Devildom, even the Angels and Solomon. So his behavior is technically warranted.”

“The fact that you think it’s right makes it okay?” He questioned, shaking his head.

“It’s more okay than the rest of you insulting him inaccurately.” Faith said, immediately flinching as she realized what she said, even moving a hand towards her mouth as if to cover it.

Oh well, she’s already started digging, why not keep going so she at least gets her point out there before she dies? So with a sigh, she moved her hand to rub at her collar bone anxiously, not daring to look Satan in the eye, focusing instead on the floor.

“Everything you pointed out that he says to me, it’s things you’ve said to him. Stupid, moron, idiotic, useless, pathetic… For all I know, he’s just mimicking what you’ve been saying to him for who knows how long.”

Mammon figured this was as good a time as any to finally make himself known, to keep Faith from actually getting herself killed. Satan doesn’t have the same concern about pissing off Lucifer that the rest of the brothers do. He walked away a few paces, and came back towards the kitchen door with heavy steps to announce himself, knocking on the door frame with his other hand on his hip. “Oi, human!” He called to get her attention. Though… perhaps he really should get better about calling her by name.

Faith looked over quickly when he came in, clearly a bit startled by the sudden noise. But she just let out a sheepish giggle, giving him a grin and a small wave. “Hey Mammon! What’s up?”

“Weren’t ya just whining the whole walk back from RAD that you had a ton of homework to do?”

Faith groaned in complaint, even tilting her head back to emphasize the action, but started over to him to head up to her room. “Shit, yeah… thanks for the reminder.” She pouted, though he was well aware it was a pout at having work to do, not that he reminded her. “Where would I be without you?” She asked him, her tone playful.

“Probably either eaten by a lesser demon within your first few hours down here, or under the watch of one of the others. Probably Asmo.” He mused, ruffling her hair as a makeshift noogie, grinning at the giggles that got.

Faith just snorted and rolled her eyes, but paused in the doorway, turning back to Satan and giving him a sheepish smile. “Just… please, think about what I said.”

Satan gave a small nod, watching the duo head off.

“What was that all about?” Mammon asked, an eyebrow quirked as he stared down at her, his hands in his pockets. He was curious if she’d tell the truth or if she’d try to deflect.

Apparently it was deflect, as Faith reached up and tightened her ponytail some, adjusting the bow. “Just some talking about interacting with demons and stuff like that.”

So she wasn’t going to tell him what she actually did… not trying to get brownie points with him, huh? She sure was a strange one…

Deciding to move on from that whole conversation, he tilted his head a bit. “What’ve you gotta study right now that’s so important anyways?”

“The history and methods of making pacts.” Faith answered after a moment of hard concentration. She’d just been learning about it in class not a few hours ago and she was already struggling to remember what she’d spent over an hour hearing about. He could absolutely relate to that. No wonder she understood him so well.

But pacts, huh…?

Maybe it’s about time he considered one himself. Because people like Faith don’t come around every day… he’s already gotta protect her anyways, and clearly she’s willing to do the same. A pact just seems like the next logical step.

He can trust that she won’t abuse it.

#text post #fic #obey me #obey me!#mammon #faith #mc #my mc #my writing #obey me mc #obey me oc #how faith earned her pacts

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needtherapy · 4 years

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open always petal by petal (ch 1)

Song Lan knows his only passenger, Cao Huan, is more secrets than truths, but he's still the best passenger Song Lan has ever had: paid up front, self-sufficient, and silent.

It shouldn't matter that Cao Huan plays the guqin like his heart is broken.

It shouldn't matter that his smiles light up the darkest corners of Fuxue's passageways.

It shouldn't matter that he makes Song Lan curious, curious in a way he hasn't felt in years.

It's just an ordinary transport, a regular fare, a mostly-honest way to make a living. All they have to do is get from Sichuan Station to Caiyi Port. The galaxy may be a dangerous place, but Song Lan is very good at his job, and this should be an easy two-week trip.

The rest doesn't matter. It doesn't.

READ ON AO3

Notes: Rated E for Explicit. Title from e.e. cummings' poem "somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond". Thanks to @cirilien, @coslyons, @treemaidengeek and tucuxi (AO3) for the beta reads!

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

⋆ Day 0 ⋆

The papers are fakes, Song Lan thinks, but damn good ones. It’s really only the feel of the paper—a bit too clean, a bit too smooth—that tips him off. The ID badge is probably fake too.

He examines the man standing in front of him. He’s handsome in a patrician sort of way, if a bit too thin, and nearly as tall as Song Lan himself, dressed in graceful Eastern Sector robes that rustle the way only real silk does. They’re a far cry from Song Lan’s utilitarian jacket and comfortable shirts and pants in shades of constant black, only a small step up from the uniform he used to wear.

Song Lan wonders why this obviously wealthy man would need forged travel docs. He doesn’t really care, of course. Everyone has their secrets. But he doesn’t need trouble with the Goldlighters. It’s already tricky enough to be unaffiliated without drawing the attention of the galaxy’s most powerful economic cultivation guild.

With a sigh, Song Lan fishes the comm out of a pocket and holds it to the tiny neural node on the side of his head.

[Why the fake name?] the comm speaker asks in a cheerful, melodic voice that still twinges painfully in his chest. It’s been five years. He should really get the damn thing re-coded.

Instead of being offended, the man—supposedly named Cao Huan—tilts a wry, weary smile at him.

“I had hoped to be anonymous a little longer,” he says, his elegant accent denoting excessive amounts of privilege and education. “If you require my real credentials, I can produce them.”

Song Lan shrugs and shakes his head. As long as the man is legit, he can call himself whatever he wants, but now Song Lan has another question. Frowning, he lifts the comm again.

[Why not just travel on a Goldlighter transport? You’re headed for Caiyi. It’s a major port. You know it’ll take two weeks to travel through all four sectors in my ship? The trip might be more dangerous than on a sanctioned vessel,] Xingchen’s voice asks.

Song Lan is under no illusions about his typical fares. There’s usually a good reason they want to travel without questions, and usually a good reason they choose Fuxue. He might be unaffiliated, but he’s not cheap. The galaxy is a dangerous place, and he’s very good at his job. In ten years, he’s only lost one person. It was, however, the only one who mattered.

“I am returning to my family after...some time away. I am in no hurry,” Cao Huan answers, with an edge that Song Lan takes to mean the topic is closed.

Well, he��s happy to take the man’s money; he paid extra to be the only passenger. Song Lan shrugs again and motions for Cao Huan to follow him on a very short tour: kitchen, guest bedrooms, sonic lavs, the foolishly indulgent bath, infirmary, bridge, engineering, cargo bay, plus half a dozen corridors that serve as storage, computer terminals, short-term passenger seating, and whatever else Song Lan needs them to be. He’s even strung up hammocks in emergencies.

[Make yourself at home,] he says with a nod and quick, slanted smile.

“Thank you Captain Song,” the man says with a wide, genuine smile that starts in the corner of his mouth and spreads, opening like a flower across his face. It surprises Song Lan in a way he can’t quite articulate, as though neither of them expected today to hold any need for smiles. “I have been told you are the best pilot, and I look forward to the journey.”

Song Lan finishes prepping Fuxue with supplies for the two-week flight, plus extras, because it’s always better to plan for the worst. He checks to make sure his one luxury—six skeins of outrageously expensive qiviut yarn—is carefully stowed in waterproof cases. Having warm socks and something to do with his hands in the long dark expanse of space is worth any price. Cao Huan busies himself with loading his own gear, waving Song Lan away when he offers to help.

“Commander Song! Commander Song Lan!”

Song Lan turns at the familiar voice calling a half-forgotten title, but it takes him a minute to recall the person: Ouyang Ju. They had served together some ten years ago in the war that brought down the Wen High Chancellor. Fat lot of good that had done.

“Man, it is you! Haven’t seen you in ages,” Ouyang grins, slapping Song Lan on the back. “How’s it going?”

Song Lan tries not to flinch. He has never understood the need people have to touch each other when they’re talking. It’s annoying. He smiles and tips his head, the universal motion for a polite and disengaged fine, and hopes he won’t have to elaborate. It’s not that he doesn’t like using the comm. He would just rather not use it.

Alright, maybe it’s that he doesn’t like using it.

The man’s face twists with sudden, embarrassed recollection, and Song Lan knows what’s coming next.

“Sorry to hear about your partner and...everything,” the older man says with an apologetic grimace. “He was a great guy.”

[He was,] Song Lan acknowledges, giving in to the blasted voice box. [Thanks.]

“Hey, I’m XO on the Goldlight Ren,” Ouyang nods at the huge transport vessel resting in the nearby docking bay, just visible through wide banks of windows designed, Song Lan assumes, to show off the might and power of the ships that travel here. Nothing like Fuxue, who might be ninety meters if he squints just right, can be flown by a single person, and only requires a landing pad.

“Anything you ever need, you tell me, okay? I owe you.” Without waiting for a response, Ouyang strides away, whistling a fairly dirty bar song.

Song Lan watches him go, wishing it was that easy, wishing he could reduce the war to favors performed, a series of tit-for-tat exchanges that balance to zero instead of a perpetually-red loss column.

Wishes are pointless. Only the road ahead matters.

Song Lan sees his new passenger idly poking through a bag, head dipped away, back turned, and something about his posture rings a distant alarm bell in Song Lan’s mind. He has flown the route from Sichuan Base to Caiyi Port hundreds of times in his life. It should feel exactly the same as every other trip. And yet this time, he senses trouble brewing, and he does not like it.

⋆ Day 3 ⋆

Other than the unexpected music, it’s almost like flying alone. Cao Huan seems to have a sixth sense for knowing where Song Lan will be and avoiding him. He only occasionally catches glimpses of the tall man, white robes swirling behind him as he disappears through doorways or around corners.

It suits Song Lan just fine, and he laughs to himself about his initial concern. Cao Huan is the best passenger Song Lan has ever had: paid up front, self-sufficient, and silent. Song Lan finishes his first sock less than two days out of port, a record.

The only place he consistently runs into his passenger is in the kitchen. After the third day, it occurs to Song Lan that, as strange as it seems, it must be on purpose. Song Lan gets the definite impression that Cao Huan waits for him to arrive before he eats, as though it’s some ceremony he wishes to observe.

There’s no good reason for it, but Song Lan starts to eat his meals at the narrow kitchen table too. After all, there’s no reason not to, either. He just doesn’t usually eat in the kitchen. He’s grateful to discover that conversation is not the reason Cao Huan prefers company; meals continue to be quiet, peaceful affairs.

“Captain Song?”

Cao Huan’s voice startles Song Lan into dropping the knife he’s using to stir his...whatever this goop is.

“My apologies, but...will you join me for tea tomorrow morning? It is not as enjoyable to drink tea by myself.”

Without meaning to, Song Lan looks at the cabinet that contains the “tea” and “coffee,” thinking, it’s never enjoyable to drink that swill, and Cao Huan laughs.

It’s only a laugh on the barest technicality, a soft huff of air, but it changes things so profoundly, Song Lan has trouble staying on his feet. Suddenly, Cao Huan is a person, not a passenger, not a potential problem. The word no forms in his head even as he feels himself nodding.

Cao Huan smiles and inclines his chin, pleased, and Song Lan finds himself smiling back. He doesn’t know what’s wrong with him. He’s not usually so soft-hearted. Xingchen was the nice one, he reminds himself, and look how that turned out. The cruelty is the only way he can snap himself out of the whispering camaraderie, a pointless train of thought, and back into his role as captain of a ship, nothing more.

[Captain, your attention is required.]

As if to punctuate the computer’s notification, an alarm sounds—unexpected, as this part of space should be smooth and easy sailing. Song Lan grimaces, shrugging apologetically.

“I’m coming,” he signs to the computer’s security camera, before running back to the bridge.

It turns out to be nothing major, only a debris field. Either a small ship had a catastrophe here or a large ship dumped trash. Neither option is particularly heartening. Bad enough if ships are carelessly leaving obstructions on a primary transit route, worse if a ship has been attacked and destroyed here where it should be safe. He knows the Joint Senate is doing its best, and Hanguang-jun, the new chairman, is by far the best leader the four sectors have had in decades, but it’s hard to protect everyone.

There’s no signs of life anywhere after three scans, and Song Lan steers them out of the mess before he resumes course and autopilot.

He doesn’t go back to the kitchen, though.

It isn’t wise, he tells himself, to think of passengers as anything but temporary. Even if they seem nice, even if they’re friendly, they always reach their destination and move on. That’s what he likes about flying transport.

Like clockwork, at 8 pm the music starts. The first night on the ship, Song Lan had thought he was going crazy, hearing the eerie twang of an instrument he didn’t think still existed outside of private art collections.

But no, his passenger had been seated in the mostly-empty cargo bay, eyes closed, playing the guqin. An actual wooden guqin. The music had echoed through the hold, wrapping its notes around Song Lan and reverberating in his chest. He had listened with a mix of disbelief and reverence to the beautiful melody flowing from the fingers of the obviously skilled musician. He listened, in fact, until Cao Huan lifted his hands off the strings and sighed, a long, plaintive sound of grief that piqued Song Lan’s curiosity more than was healthy, and he’d hurried away before Cao Huan noticed him.

The next night had been the same, the music winding into access shafts, around the bridge, even through engineering.

Which Song Lan knows, because he tried all of those places to escape it.

Tonight, though, he gives up. If he is going to be treated to an impromptu concert by a master musician every night, he may as well enjoy it. He knits on the catwalk over the cargo hold and listens, wondering if the song has words, wondering what it means to Cao Huan, wondering how long you had to practice to make the guqin sound like an ocean of sorrow.

⋆ Day 4 ⋆

Evidently, Cao Huan had not been referring to Fuxue’s stores of tea.

He had his own.

Song Lan tells himself to stop being surprised that a man who carries a guqin and can afford a private transport would have a jar of aged white tea that smells like honey and the summer sun. He sits at the table across from Cao Huan and watches him gracefully pour tea, holding back his draping sleeve with one hand.

Cao Huan notices Song Lan’s raised eyebrows.

“You must think me overly indulgent,” he says, pouring his own cup. “I am not particular about many things, but I do enjoy good tea. I am fortunate that it is something my...my family can provide.”

Oh, Song Lan thinks, his family must be tea merchants, which does explain quite a bit, and he feels a little guilty for judging the man on appearances. He wonders if it’s flash-cloned or actually soil-grown, and he peers into the cup, considering the color and shape of the leaves he can see, as though they will give him an answer.

“It is soil-grown,” Cao Huan answers Song Lan’s curious thought, and smiles when Song Lan looks startled. “It is the obvious question. Unless you were seeking your fate in the leaves?”

Song Lan snorts, and Cao Huan laughs again, again that soft exhale that feels more intimate than raucous laughter. It highlights faint lines around his eyes and softens his usually-tranquil angular features with a hint of playful teasing.

“Perhaps you do not believe in fate? Or perhaps you do not believe tea can tell the future. It is considered a noble art, Captain Song. Could so many fortune-telling market grannies be wrong?”

Song Lan laughs, a sadly rusty sound, he thinks with an internal wince, and shakes his head. The man looks pleased.

“Captain Song, may I ask a nosy question?”

Sometimes when people say things like that, they mean I am going to ask a nosy question whether you like it or not, but Cao Huan sounds sincere. Song Lan considers. With a sigh, he finds the comm.

[You may ask. I can’t guarantee that I can answer.]

The man’s mouth twitches in an almost smile. “That is fair. It is only...I noticed you signed to the camera yesterday. Do you…” he pauses, seeming to reevaluate his question, which is good, because Song Lan has frozen.

He forces himself to relax. Hand sign languages are no longer illegal, but he still can’t stop the fluttering fear from pooling in his gut.

“Does the computer understand your hand signs?” Cao Huan finishes, and Song Lan practices breathing normally.

[Yes. It’s easier to sign than find the comm sometimes, especially if I’m in a hurry,] he says through the little speaker, only a little defiantly. He won’t let this man shame him.

“Would you prefer to speak this way?” Cao Huan asks, lifting his hands and signing as he speaks.

Song Lan just stares at him.

And stares.

And stares until Cao Huan’s eyebrows raise. “If you would rather not…”

“No, I do prefer it,” Song Lan signs hurriedly, not wanting him to withdraw the offer. “It’s just...unusual to find someone who knows hand signs these days.”

The High Chancellor had been a paranoid and suspicious man, and he had outlawed the use of hand signs decades ago, fearing them to be the language of bandits and assassins. He wasn’t entirely wrong; hunters and thieves did use the signs, but so did countless others. His replacement, who preferred to be called Xiandu, wasn’t much better. All in all, almost thirty years passed before the current Joint Senate legalized them again after Xiandu’s death three years ago. In so many places around the four sectors, the sign languages that correlated to the spoken languages have been lost entirely.

Song Lan had learned the sign language after Xingchen died five years ago, after he was left for dead, after he decided he was done with the future. His teacher was a wizened old woman on an unaffiliated space station, Rogue Sky, and she was most likely one of the High Chancellor’s feared bandits. Song Lan hadn’t cared then and he didn’t care now. All he knew was that she’d refused to let him wallow in misery, no matter how much he felt he’d earned it.

Song Lan still takes her snowflake cakes whenever he’s near Qinghe space. It’s the least he can do.

Cao Huan nods in acknowledgement, still signing as he talks. Even though it’s unnecessary, Song Lan finds he likes watching, the words and motions blending together to make something wholly different.

“I have always loved languages. This one is particularly beautiful and unique.” He grins suddenly, eyes twinkling with mischief, and the expression turns his face brilliantly luminous. “Plus, it was an appealing novelty to learn something forbidden.”

Song Lan’s first reaction to the man’s captivating smile is an unwelcome surprise. Instinctively, he covers his embarrassment—which he hopes has gone unnoticed—with something he’s more familiar with.

“I did not have the luxury of enjoying the novelty,” his fingers cut angrily through the air. “I was taught illegally on an unaffiliated station by a former bandit, but it was better than never speaking again.”

Swiftly he stands and goes back to his room to berate himself. He isn’t sure which is worse, yelling at his passenger or feeling a knee-buckling surge of desire for him. He has no business doing either.

Song Lan flops on his bed and stares at the ceiling, at the sword that hangs above his head. Shuanghua, Xingchen’s pride and joy, the sword he brought with him when he joined Song Lan’s crew, the sword that couldn’t save him in the end. Couldn’t save either of them. The guilt throbs in his gut, as familiar as the vibrations of Fuxue’s heart, and he sinks into it. This is an emotion he understands.

[Captain, do you need assistance?] his computer asks, and Song Lan wants to laugh. It seems that even Fuxue thinks he’s being a moody child.

He shakes his head and signs to the camera. “What would you do if I did? I’m the captain and the crew.”

The computer is silent, the question apparently having stumped the AI.

[Zichen, do you want to talk about it?]

“No,” his hands say emphatically. He’s not an expert, but he’s pretty sure it’s not going to help to get a psych eval from a computer that’s using his dead partner’s voice.

“Captain Song?”

And now Cao Huan is on the other side of the door. Why can’t everyone just let him sulk in peace?

“Captain Song, I profoundly apologize. It was a terrible, insensitive thing I said, and I am so sorry. It is not an excuse but...I have not been around...people much lately. Evidently I am still quite bad at it. I will not disturb you…”

Song Lan yanks open the door.

“It’s nothing,” he signs slowly, calmly. “I overreacted.” Song Lan smiles ruefully. “I’m not around people much either. Thank you for the tea.”

Cao Huan blinks in surprise, and his face shifts through a series of expressions Song Lan doesn’t recognize before landing on careful neutrality.

“You’re welcome. I...I would be happy to share tea with you every day. If you wish.”

He looks like he’s considering saying something else, but he doesn’t, just nods his head once and goes. Song Lan doesn’t exactly watch him walk down the passageway, one fist resting on the small of his back, but he doesn’t not watch him either.

⋆ Day 5 ⋆

Song Lan is amused to discover that Cao Huan is insatiably curious about everything on Fuxue. It’s not hard to believe he’s been isolated for a while. He is unfailingly polite, and still mostly avoids Song Lan, but occasionally, Song Lan finds him in the oddest places: staring at the engines, examining at the computer core, meditating on the catwalk, sorting through supplies in the infirmary. Song Lan wonders if he’s bored.

He finds Cao Huan on the bridge one day, running his lithe musician’s fingers over the flight panel, murmuring something to himself. Song Lan knows as soon as Cao Huan is aware of his presence. He doesn’t startle, exactly, but he stiffens and steps back slightly. His face, when he turns to Song Lan, though, is tranquil and uncomplicated.

“My pardon, Captain,” he nods, and steps to the side as though he intends to move past Song Lan, but for once, Song Lan is curious.

“Were you talking to Fuxue?” he asks before Cao Huan looks away.

Cao Huan’s neck flushes, and he shrugs. “I have heard these Jian-class AIs have distinctive personalities, as it were. I prefer to err on the side of caution.”

Song Lan doesn’t understand what he means, but Cao Huan is still blushing, the tips of his ears turning a distracting shade of pink, and it makes him want to know.

“I don’t understand,” he says, and Cao Huan sighs.

“I was introducing myself,” he explains. “It seemed courteous.”

Song Lan can’t help his smile. He wonders if Cao Huan introduced himself to Fuxue with his real name.

“Yes, Fuxue is somewhat unique,” he agrees. “My...my partner was a gifted tech, and he gave her more autonomy than is customary since we flew alone so often.”

Cao Huan nods. “So I gathered. She tells me about him sometimes. Is her voice…” he pauses, noticing the look of surprise on Song Lan’s face. “Is that strange?”

Fuxue talks to Song Lan, and of course, she used to talk to Xingchen—one of the reasons, Song Lan suspects, that his ship is so unusual. Talking to Xingchen for extended periods of time would make anyone a bit odd. But as far as he knows, the ship has never spoken to any other passenger, much less talked to them about Xingchen. He can’t decide why Fuxue would start now, whether it’s a bug in the programming or something about Cao Huan specifically.

“Yes,” Song Lan acknowledges. “She still manages to surprise me sometimes.” He smiles up at the camera in the corner of the room and adds, “Don’t make trouble, my love.”

“I believe she likes the music,” Cao Huan says, stepping around Song Lan and moving into the passageway. “I apologize again for intruding on your bridge.” He smiles, a minute flicker, and Song Lan catches his sleeve impulsively, probably foolishly.

“You are welcome on the bridge any time,” he signs swiftly, before Cao Huan can leave. “Whether I am here or not.”

Cao Huan considers for a moment and nods, his smile a little wider, a little more genuine, and Song Lan doesn’t regret his words at all.

⋆ Day 7 ⋆

“How did you learn this?” Cao Huan asks one day, touching the toe of the sock Song Lan is knitting.

They are sitting in the two bridge seats, and Song Lan is working through a heel turn, shaping the rows to reinforce the curve. He finishes the section before he sets down the sock to answer.

“I learned when I was a boy. I grew up with scrappers, and there was a lot of downtime.”

Cao Huan is silent, rubbing the soft wool between his fingers, and Song Lan wonders why he bothered to ask.

“Would you like to learn?” Song Lan asks, and Cao Huan shakes his head slowly.

“Yes, but I am not certain I will ever...I do not know what my future holds. There may be no point in learning.”

He sounds so bleak and disappointed, dozens of questions pop in and out of Song Lan’s head, and he firmly shuts them behind a door. He isn’t going to intrude on this man’s private life.

“There is always value in learning something new,” he signs instead, and Cao Huan smiles ruefully.

“You sound like my brother,” he says, then snaps his mouth closed and hides the expressiveness of his face behind the neutral mask Song Lan is beginning to recognize, even if he’s still not certain what it means.

“Mm,” he agrees, one of the few sounds he can still make. To his surprise, Cao Huan laughs.

“Now you truly do sound like him. He is not a man of many words, but he is very eloquent with noncommittal sounds,” Cao Huan explains when Song Lan looks puzzled.

“You’re close?” Song Lan asks, and the shuttered expression returns.

Still, the man answers after a pause. “Yes, we were, but...he is gone now, living his own life. I am proud of him, but...it makes going home seem...different.”

Every word is reluctantly spoken, as though giving shape to them makes them dangerous. Song Lan vows not to ask any other questions, but Cao Huan keeps talking, and he can’t very well tell him to stop, either.

“Home used to mean people, but...they are grown or changed or…” his eyes close in obvious pain, and Song Lan wants to tell him to stop or distract him with a starboard nebula, but there’s nothing, just this palpable misery.

“Or gone,” he finishes. “Home is only a place now. It should be enough but…”

Song Lan understands this much at least.

“It’s too quiet.” He finishes Cao Huan’s sentence, and he means that home has always been Fuxue, but it no longer hums with love and laughter and Xingchen. It is the same place it was five years ago, but...it isn’t.

Abruptly, Cao Huan leans forward and squeezes Song Lan’s knee, his face softening in sympathy. It’s only a brief touch, but Song Lan’s body reacts like the brush of fingers is a line of electricity, both sharp and crushing, nothing like he expected, not that he could ever have expected this particular cataclysm. Has it been so long, he wonders, since someone touched him with kindness?

He stands, covering his sudden need to escape by hunting through one of the storage bins for a bigger set of knitting needles and a chunkier-gauge yarn. He sets them on Cao Huan’s lap.

“You may as well learn,” he signs with an easy smile. “We still have a week of travel left.”

Cao Huan laughs in disbelief when Song Lan shows him how to cast the yarn onto the needle, but he turns out to be a quick study, which Song Lan should have expected, given his dexterity with the guqin. Song Lan admits to himself that he likes the way the man’s face lights with the satisfaction of meeting a challenge, even more the way he brandishes a square of fairly smooth rows with such pride.

The quiet stretches out like a lazy cat, broken by the sound of clicking needles, and it settles serenely over Song Lan. Usually on transports, he is busy every waking moment, herding children, answering questions, sometimes even preventing bloodshed. He could get used to this uneventful kind of trip.

As if the gods have heard his thoughts, a piercing blue alarm sounds. Not an environmental emergency. Blue is an enemy attack.

Song Lan jams his needles into the yarn and tosses the whole bundle into the corner before turning to the screens, grabbing the yoke with one hand and snapping the comm headset onto his neural node with the other.

Where? he asks Fuxue through their mental link, and Xingchen’s voice relays the coordinates through the overhead speakers: 403 225 687.

He enlarges the image. Junk pirates. A mini-fleet of five. It could be worse, it could be Red Robe mercs or Goldlighters or soldiers of any major faction, but he isn’t looking forward to a run and gun. He scours the sector for a nearby...anything. There’s an asteroid field and two tiny stations, one in either direction, all so much further than is particularly helpful. He makes a decision and changes course, doubling back on the pirates and surging past them.

[Cao Huan, we have pirates,] he says via the comm. [We’re going to try to outrun them first.] He doesn’t bother explaining what the other option is.

“Give me tactical control,” Cao Huan says, calm and insistent, and even though he has no reason to think this man has ever even flown a ship before, Song Lan flips on the secondary pilot display and unlocks the manual gun controls.

[Fuxue is adapted for neural node. You’ll have to shoot manually, but it might at least scare them off,] he explains.

Cao Huan grins. “Or I might surprise you, Captain Song.”

He does, of course. Song Lan is busy avoiding the pirates’ attacks, so he can’t watch as carefully as he suspects he'd like to, but his new co-pilot seems to be racing through calculating targeting coordinates like he’s half computer. Interestingly, he isn’t aiming to destroy, only damage, and he knocks out the first two ships’ navigational cores with single, identical, virtually impossible shots.

Fuxue is easily faster than one of the ships, and Cao Huan clips its starboard wing, only dislodging the thruster, before they pull away. It’s enough to send the forty-meter ship spinning out of control in the opposite direction.

The last two though...they’re a problem. The smaller of the two has an expert pilot and gunner, and Fuxue takes several hits. One explodes against the side of the lifeboat bay, others destroy sensor arrays and scatter pieces of shielding into space. They’re going to have to do something drastic or they aren’t going to survive this.

[Rolleram?] he asks Cao Huan, not entirely sure if he’ll understand, but he nods once and waits for Song Lan to turn.

Song Lan rolls Fuxue in an arc and flies directly at the larger ship, avoiding a few shots before dodging around the ship on its right side, swooping down, using the ship as a blind. With a hard bank, he brings Fuxue up on the other side of the big pirate ship. The smaller ship is right in front of them, a perfect shot.

[Now!] he yells, but Cao Huan has already fired the phaser cannons, and without even looking, Song Lan knows he’s calculated Fuxue’s path and the pirate’s trajectory perfectly.

[Target disabled,] Fuxue confirms. [Nice shot, XO.]

Cao Huan’s mouth tips in the corner. “Thank you, Fuxue,” he says.

Song Lan shakes his head at them both. Since when did the passenger become his executive officer, and who thanks a ship’s AI?

But there’s no time to celebrate. The last ship, the largest ship, is less agile than Fuxue, but more heavily armed and is throwing everything at them in a last ditch effort. With a jarring lurch, Fuxue shudders, and Song Lan grimaces.

[Port wing…]

[Yes I know,] he snaps. He only barely has enough rudder to pivot Fuxue, pure luck more than anything. They won’t survive one more impact like that.

“Wei Drop?” Cao Huan suggests, and Song Lan snorts.

[Play dead?] No one who has ever seen the Wei Drop is fooled by it twice. But even as he derides the idea, he realizes it might work. It’s going to have to. Cao Huan is a good enough shot, and they don’t have a lot of choices left.

[Fine, but if this doesn’t work, you owe me a ship,] he says, killing Fuxue’s engine, shutting down all the systems, and letting his ship slowly start to drift oh-so-subtly in a circle.

It works. He can’t believe it works, but the pirates stop shooting, probably reluctant to break their new salvage any more than necessary, and coast toward Fuxue.

When Fuxue has made a full rotation, when Song Lan can almost see the attacking crew through the shielded fore windows, he looks at Cao Huan, who nods.

It happens so fast, the two of them working in unison to flip on all the power, stabilize Fuxue, take aim, and fire twice. At the last second, the pirate ship banks, trying to escape the shot, but they’re too close, far too close, and instead of disabling the wing or navigation, or whatever Cao Huan was aiming for, the ship explodes in a blinding blast of nuclear white light.

The last thing Song Lan thinks, the last thing he has time to think before the shockwave hits them, is Xingchen is going to be so mad about his ship.

#the untamed #cql #mdzs #mo dao zu shi #lan xichen #song lan #lanlan #space au #in which there is knitting and space battles #tea and music #and both of these wounded men get to heal a little #Kristina writes tiny stories #this one is medium sized

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soveryanon · 4 years

Text

Reviewing time for MAG194! TwT

- Well, the episode very quickly answered my question about whether Jon&Martin would stay in Jonah’s room a bit or not. I love how the beginning of the episode mirrored Martin and Jon working their way to the top:

(MAG192) [FOOTSTEPS RING AND ECHO AS THEY CONTINUE CLIMBING THE MANY, MANY STAIRS] MARTIN: [LABOURED BREATHING] Okay, okay, hold… hold up, h–hold on, hold on, hold on. [THE ARCHIVIST’S QUICK FOOTSTEPS CONTINUE] Oi, Jon! ARCHIVIST: Uh…? [SOFTLY] Oh, right. MARTIN: Just wait a sec– … Christ, I just need a moment to… catch my breath…! […] What, you’re not tired? ARCHIVIST: Oh no, believe me, I am! It’s just, uh… It’s kind of… difficult not to keep climbing? MARTIN: What, like… you’re being called? ARCHIVIST: More like… pulled. Gently, but very definitely upwards, towards the top. MARTIN: That… could be a bad sign. ARCHIVIST: Probably…!

(MAG194) [FOOTSTEPS DESCENDING THE PANOPTICON STAIRS – THE ARCHIVIST DOING SO MORE RAPIDLY THAN MARTIN] MARTIN: [PANTS] Jon, wai– [BAG JOSTLING] Hey, just wait! [THE ARCHIVIST’S FOOTSTEPS PAUSE AS MARTIN CATCHES UP, AND THE SHUFFLING NOISES FROM BELOW ARE AUDIBLE] MARTIN: W… will you please talk to me? ARCHIVIST: I just, I–I need some air.

Jon rushing, Martin having trouble to keep up (TwT and he had previously mentioned that he was “never leading”, “always following”…), Jon respectively being drawn towards Beholding versus fleeing from it in discomfort.

Small thing, but I love how we could hear when Jon&Martin were going up, and now that they were going down? It was the distinctive sounds of people’s steps going down stairs. I don’t remember hearing the buzzing of the drones in MAG192 (while we could hear them muffled and distant in this scene), so I’m guessing that Martin&Jon were almost reaching ground level when the tape recorder turned on?

- ;; Jon had mentioned that there was “no better”, and that’s also true about safe places…

(MAG194) ARCHIVIST: I just, I–I need some air. MARTIN: In the tunnels? ARCHIVIST: … Yes! N–no! I… I don’t know, just somewhere…! Anywhere without that… thing droning horrors, and Rosie staring at us like we’re going to bite her. I just… I need to think.

They don’t have many options, so the stuffy dark tunnels are still a place where it’s easier to breathe compared to the ones directly watched by Beholding…

I’m curious about Rosie’s behaviour – does she identify Jon as someone above Jonah, now, so having the power to hurt her? Or is like in MAG192, when Martin went off her script and she immediately reacted as if he was threatening her?

- Martin’s way of dealing with Jon’s behaviour when he doesn’t understand it still follows the same pattern of beginning with irritation, then heading for pragmatism, and quickly understanding when Jon is hiding something:

(MAG194) MARTIN: All right. All right, we’ll… we’ll go back to the tunnels and regroup. Figure out what our next move is. See… what other options there are. ARCHIVIST: … Yeah. Yeah. MARTIN: Jon? … [WARNING] Jon? ARCHIVIST: I just need a moment. To… to properly… consider things. MARTIN: “Consider” what, exactly?

He quickly picked up on the fact that Jon was shifty and a few steps ahead in the reasoning… and the fact he snapped so fast felt, to me, like he was indeed suspecting that Jon was genuinely considering to take Elias’s place?

* Between “one self-important, floating, hollowed-out terror zombie” and “his whole being just destroyed”, Jonah really is absolutely done for and dead in a way, uh.

* Jon’s phrasing regarding the “pupil” reminds me of the Coffin in relation to Daisy:

(MAG120) ELIAS: He knows the writing on the coffin has changed, though it is still carved deep into the splintered wood: [STATIC INCREASES] “I – Am – For – You.” [STATIC DECREASES] He knows it is not addressed to him, but he reaches down and pulls the chains off all the same.

… And Daisy had still been able to get out.

* It’s interesting, though, that Jon still hasn’t confirmed what his domain is, if it’s supposed to be the centre of The Eye or… something else, somewhere else.

* ;; Martin was blunt and snarky but also… knows his tropes and clichés. He presented Jon’s plan and the end he envisioned as the conclusion of a story, as if it were a script… (I don’t know if there is anything to make of it, but it’s quite interesting that he spitted this in the same episode Annabelle, the Story Spinner, finally made her move/offer.)

* … the “promise” Martin mentioned was likely the one from MAG191, when Martin asked Jon to not do things out of guilt and to actively try to find a solution that would allow him to survive. Given how they both alluded to Jonah… it’s clear that they’re aware that yes, replacing him wouldn’t count, Jonah’s current state doesn’t count as surviving/living. (Which is so ironic for Jonah, since he did everything because he was afraid of dying and wanted to ensure his immortality. But at what costs, etc.)

- “Jon, No”.

(MAG194) ARCHIVIST: Would you just listen, please? … I think… I think that I–I could… control it, t–to a degree, I–I could, I could channel the energies, remake things, like I’ve been doing on our journey but, but on a grand scale. MARTIN: And how’s that going to help? You’ve always said you can’t make less fear in the world, you’d… you’d just be moving it around…! ARCHIVIST: But that might still help! I–I could… I could rebalance things, destroy the avatars, make it so that the people suffering most were the ones who–who deserve it…! MARTIN: [SCOFF] And what? Replace them with new avatars from the people who don’t want to? ARCHIVIST: I mean, that has to be better than those that chose it right? Sure, I can’t make it “go away”, but I could at least make it fairer…! MARTIN: [MIRTHLESS SCOFF] ARCHIVIST: The Eye doesn’t care, as long as it gets its fear, it’s happy either way…! MARTIN: [INCREDULOUS] Christ, can you hear yourself? “Make it fairer!” It’s not enough that you’re the “all-powerful Archivist”, you also have to appoint yourself the literal judge of everyone as well?

It’s true that Martin initially wanted Jon to use his powers here and there and change things for the better for people suffering in the domains (and also true, as Jon pointed out, that Martin had encouraged the Kill Bill spree)… but the journey has also demonstrated how all the possibilities relying on Beholding’s power didn’t work. Killing avatars didn’t free victims from the domains, and the domains kept going regardless. Changing a victim into an avatar was still horrible and traumatic and condemning them to another kind of hell. And they had resolved to let people suffer as they headed for the Panopticon because Martin was hoping that confronting Elias would mean a solution to change things on a bigger scale and save everyone, but they know now that that is impossible and there isn’t enough left of Elias to confront in the first place. I’m not really disappointed that Jon would try to grasp at something that feels Less Awful now, and I’m not disappointed that Martin was offended and disgusted about it – I’m just sad for both of them. It also came with a few implications:

* As mentioned above, with the way Jon&Martin described Elias – they agree that being the centre of Beholding is as good as being dead.

* Martin had pointed out, in MAG186, that he didn’t want to keep feeding on people’s misery, and if they didn’t find any solution, he would ask Jon to end him:

(MAG186) ALSO MARTIN: So. What are we thinking? MARTIN: [EXHALE] I’m thinking that I didn’t ask for this. It’s not my fault they’re here…! ALSO MARTIN: True. MARTIN: But I can’t keep existing like this at their expense! It’s not… it’s not right. Whatever happens with Elias, wi–, with the rest of the world… I can’t live on the misery of others. ALSO MARTIN: … They’ll suffer either way. MARTIN: I get it, okay? I, I can’t decide what happens to them, but… I just might be able to decide what happens to me, and… and if it comes down to it? ALSO MARTIN: [SIGH] MARTIN: … I’ll get Jon to destroy me like the others. ALSO MARTIN: You don’t really believe he’d do it? MARTIN: I don’t know. Maybe? ALSO MARTIN: … This took a dark turn. MARTIN: Yeah, but… this time it doesn’t feel like despair. [BAG JOSTLING] It feels like resolve. ALSO MARTIN: Well… hopefully it won’t come to that. MARTIN: Hopefully.

We haven’t heard Martin tell Jon anything about it, so Jon might not know… but it means that if they were to settle for Jon’s idea, then it’d be the scenario where Martin would ask Jon to kill him. So, I wasn’t surprised that Martin immediately opposed that idea on victims’ behalf – he knows very well how uncomfortable it is to feed on people’s misery, and it is something he was only temporarily accepting until he found a way to fix the world.

* I like how it works within the Fears As Oppressive Systems reading: changing who is on top wouldn’t change the system itself. The problem is still the system, and the solution would still be to dismantle/change it entirely.

* … And meta-wise, I’m not sure but I feel like this might be opening up the option and leading towards another Change for the end of the show…? Since Martin felt like a solution based on a “compromise” was horrible, it would be surprising, then, that the show would end with no grand-scale change at all, unless they’re prevented from reaching it at the last moment?

- Overall, their arguments reminded me a lot of MAG154: Jon and Martin were trying to convey something underneath what they were saying, that the other wasn’t fully grasping. In MAG154, what Martin should have heard was that Jon was worried about him, cared about him, wanted Martin safe above everything (it wasn’t “only” about cutting their eyes out and getting free from the Institute, it was mostly about the idea of leaving together). This time around… I’m not sure, but I feel like underneath, it was mostly about Jon and Martin’s respective fears of losing the other?

- That “visual” information when Jon and Martin had entered Elias’s room in MAG192…

(MAG192) MARTIN: What’s wrong with him? ARCHIVIST: Nothing. Nothing’s wrong with him. He’s the pupil of The Eye…! MARTIN: Meaning? ARCHIVIST: He won.

(MAG194) ARCHIVIST: Why won’t you believe me when I say that this isn’t something I want to do? MARTIN: Because I saw your face when we walked into that room! [DESPONDENT] That wasn’t fear! It, it wasn’t even anger. It was envy. And it scared me more than anything else I’ve seen…! [SILENCE SAVE FOR THE TOWER NOISES] ARCHIVIST: … Martin… MARTIN: We’re here to stop this, not… not take it over…! [SILENCE BUT FOR THE DISTANT DRONE NOISES] ARCHIVIST: What other choice do we have? MARTIN: I–I don’t know, all right! I d–, but there is one. Because there has to be.

I do like that Martin is keenly aware of Beholding’s power of attraction on Jon because… after all, is Jon’s reasoning that he might make things better as the pupil of The Eye truly his own, or is it slightly influenced by Beholding itself, trying to make it attractive for Jon? We’ve seen that Jon could get influenced by it – Jon had to fight against his impulses in order to be able to listen to Eric’s tape, and burning Gerry’s page had also been hard for him.

- Martin saying “No” was such an echo of the end of season 4…

(MAG158) PETER: Then do it. Kill him, and help me save the world…! [SILENCE] MARTIN: … No. […] PETER: Martin. What are you doing? MARTIN: I’m… saying no. I refuse! Game over. [KNIFE CLATTERING ON THE GROUND] PETER: Martin, this is not the time for petulance; there are bigger things at stake, here. […] But you do serve The Lonely. MARTIN: Oh, I’m getting there, but if this is the final test or something? Then bad luck. The answer’s still “no”.

(MAG194) ARCHIVIST: We can’t just dismiss this. It might be our only option. [SILENCE SAVE FOR THE TOWER NOISES] MARTIN: … No. ARCHIVIST: No? MARTIN: No! I forbid it. [BAG JOSTLING] ARCHIVIST: [INCREDULOUS CHUCKLE] You “forbid it”?

With the situation being of course different: back then, a “no” was still playing the game and making someone the winner of the bet. Now, it’s just pure rejection. (And I love when Martin does that? Just refuses to accept what is offered? There is something very raw, very honest when he does, even though it’s not exactly constructive.)

- Oh Jon, oh Martin ;_;

(MAG194) ARCHIVIST: [INCREDULOUS CHUCKLE] You “forbid it”? MARTIN: Don’t laugh at me. ARCHIVIST: Why not? You’re being ridiculous. MARTIN: I refuse to accept that this– ARCHIVIST: Tough! The world doesn’t care what you accept. It just is! It just is. [SILENCE SAVE FOR THE TOWER NOISES] … I’m going out. Ou–outside, I–I… I’ll see you back in the tunnels.

* I feel like Jon didn’t understand how casually harsh he was: pointing out that Martin was “being ridiculous” was an accidental reminder that… Jon can bend a lot of things to his will. Although he is not all-powerful, he has power in this world, can decide what happens to people (he can smite avatars, he can turn victims into avatars, he can “know” things). It isn’t the case for Martin, who can indeed travel safely through domains but can’t change anything by himself.

* ;; And additionally cruel: Martin might have known that the world “doesn’t care”. He had to take care of his mother since he was a child, with no support, to the point that he had to drop out of school, and it didn’t prevent his mother from hating him… and yet, he has also clung to the belief that people’s lives still have worth for what they are (MAG151: “I think our experience of the universe has value. Even if it disappears forever.”).

* It says a lot about Jon’s state of mind, too, that he would spit about it from his position: Jon has been prone to falling into quiet despair this season, over the idea that he couldn’t do anything on a grand scale (“There is not better”, the fact that even “saving” Jordan just put him in another hell and that he resented Jon for what he was able to do…). What Jon said weren’t words of triumph or boasting: those were sad words of anger and resignation over something he hates but feels that he can’t fight against.

* Martin’s silence… I feel like that silence and Jon calming down (still leaving, but clearly conscious that he had overstepped) “told” us so much about the kind of face Martin was making…

- When it comes to the recording: seems like the tape recorder was either on the ground or on Martin, this time around, since we heard Martin’s last words (while the sound of Jon’s footsteps was gradually disappearing).

(MAG194) [QUICK FOOTSTEPS AS THE ARCHIVIST SPEEDS OFF DOWN THE STAIRS] MARTIN: [SHAKY EXHALE] Stupid… Stupid, arrogant…! [SILENCE SAVE FOR THE TOWER NOISES] Jon? J– [SHUFFLING] … Shit!

* The end of the fragment was a bit reminiscent of the end of MAG185, when Martin entered his domain:

(MAG185) ARCHIVIST: Martin? [STATIC RISES] Martin, listen you need to get ready. [FADING] We’re about to enter– [STATIC REACHING A PEAK] MARTIN: Yeah, “my domain”, yes, right, I get it. Dream logic, and timing, heh, apparently! [STATIC FADES] [FAINT EERIE WIND SOUNDS] … Jon? Jon? [BAG JOSTLING] Oh… Shit.

* You would think that Martin had drained up his “shit” rights (especially since he screamed strings of it in MAG163 when running around the bullets, and in MAG179 to bandage Jon after he had been injured by Daisy), but no, he keeps adding new ones to the collection!

* So why that final “Shit”? Was it because Martin realised that it wasn’t a good idea to get separated? Was it because he spotted something or someone? The tape recorder, cobwebs around, Annabelle dangling from the ceiling?

- … Screaming a bit because Jon rushing out to get some air and leaving someone behind is, uh, reminiscent of something.

(MAG080) LEITNER: I have also heard it called Beholding. ARCHIVIST: And I… LEITNER: You belong to it too. ARCHIVIST: I… Uh… I… I think I need some air. [SOUND OF FUMBLING IN DRAWER] LEITNER: We don’t have time for you to have a breakdown, Archivist. [CHAIR SCRAPES ON THE FLOOR] ARCHIVIST: I’m going to have a cigarette. Don’t… [DOOR OPENS] Don’t. [DOOR CLOSES] […] [EXTENDED SOUNDS OF BRUTAL PIPE MURDER] […] ARCHIVIST: Sorry, I’ve been quit for five years now, but th– [STUNNED SILENCE]

And just like before, someone waltzed in to deprive Jon of the person he was interacting with. Jon didn’t mention smoking this time around but since he quickly calmed down once outside, and decided that Martin was indeed right as soon as he was out… where is your lighter, these days, Jon?

- Once outside, it was chilling how Jon indeed acted a bit all-powerful, right after Martin had accused him of getting a god-complex:

(MAG194) ARCHIVIST: [HEAVY BREATHES] Get out of here. All of you. … [STATIC RISES] I said: leave me alone! [STATIC FADES] … [SCOFF] Of course. [SIGH] What do you want? No, I… I know what you want.

Out of anger, he still spilled out his powers to try to get the camera and drones to comply with what he wanted.

(And aaah, the contrast between the way he talks to Beholding things and the way he usually talks with Martin… It was very noticeable how his voice was dryer and snappier when he was alone with Helen, but I like how we can still hear that he has a special “voice” for Martin, even during arguments.)

- … Jon managed to cool down VERY quickly.

(MAG194) ARCHIVIST: But maybe you’re right…! … No. No, that’s… [INHALE] Martin’s right. It’s not worth it. … Why am I even talking to you? You don’t even have a mind, not really. That’s what you want, isn’t it? Something to be your focus, your will. Keeping you fed, and placated and content! … You got something to say? [HUFF] Then say it. [CAMERA WHIRRING] Of course.

* He only needed a few seconds to admit that his plan wasn’t a good idea and that Martin had been right to oppose the concept of it.

* I love how Jon has been spitting his disgust and rage at the cameras, drones and Beholding itself since they entered London…

* I love how Jon was aware that his plan would basically mean that he would provide Beholding the satisfaction it wanted. Indeed, in any scenario, that just… can’t be good.

* And I love how his last words before the pre-statement were a bit ambiguous: was the “Of course” about the fact that anyway, the cameras/drones wouldn’t answer (because they couldn’t anyway)? Or was it in reaction to the camera whirring and the build-up of the statement – the idea that “of course”, drones and cameras would swarm around Jon since he was on the verge of giving a statement? Or was it because he felt that the surroundings would give their “answer” through the statement he was about to give?

- As for the statement: it reminds me a bit of MAG180, with how Malcolm wasn’t able to get rid of his abuser – I would have pegged MAG180 as a mix of End/Web/Beholding, this one felt more like Flesh/Web/Beholding, however! The body horror made me grin because Jonny has been playing Resident Evil lately, and the eye and face emerging from the shoulder really reminded me of that imagery. (While during the first few seconds, I thought about Albrecht, but it turned out that a whole body was emerging from Malcolm so… nop, not the same thing.)

I wonder what message Jon got from the statement, though:

(MAG194) ARCHIVIST: [DEEP BREATH] Not exactly subtle. But then you never were, were you? Not really. Well. If that’s the most compelling argument you have… [AUDIBLE SMILE] I’m going to go and apologise to my boyfriend…! [CHUCKLE]

Did he interpret it as Beholding telling him it was within him, that Jon could never get rid of it, that it was even useless seeking “love” because Jon had Beholding in his life? Was it about the idea that no matter what, there would always be someone in the “seat” of Beholding’s power? Was it about Jon’s shame, Beholding threatening to reveal his inner thoughts (“I’ll tell them. I’ll tell them all the horrible thoughts you keep deep inside…!”)?

- I love how Jon has shown absolutely no hesitation when it comes to calling Martin his “boyfriend” ;w;

(MAG171) JARED: Oh! And who’s this? Your boyfriend? MARTIN: Hum– ARCHIVIST: Yes. Actually.

(MAG187) HELEN: Sure he can wave away the theoretical idea of people suffering… ARCHIVIST: But if he sees it up close, he might try to get his boyfriend to smite you? HELEN: … Something like that.

Plus the (many) “love” thrown around. Back when they got together at the end of season 4, I thought that Jon would have a bit of trouble putting words on his relationship with Martin, but nop, he’s been very casual and almost smug about it!

- Jon had mentioned that he had trouble in the tunnels, Melanie had reminded him that it was dark, but still, it was very funny to me that Jon began to apologise before understanding that he wasn’t actually talking to Martin:

(MAG194) [DOOR RATTLES AND OPENS] ARCHIVIST: M–Martin? [DOOR SHUTS] Martin I’m… I’m sorry. You… you’re right. [SOMETHING RATTLES] I– … Oh. [CLEARS THROAT] Sorry. Thought you were someone else. CELIA: It’s okay. I, I was actually looking for you.

The way Jon’s voice just changed once he realised.

- And then, it was SUCH whiplash.

(MAG194) ARCHIVIST: Why? What’s… Sorry, uh, do you know where Martin– the, the man I–I was with, do you know where he is? CELIA: That’s what I wanted to check! I saw him a while ago, up near one of the trapdoors. I… I didn’t recognise the woman with him? So… ARCHIVIST: The– CELIA: I wanted to check if you were expecting anyone else before I woke the prophets. ARCHIVIST: [SUSPICIOUS] What, what woman? CELIA: I don’t know…! [FOOTSTEP] ARCHIVIST: What did she look like? CELIA: Uh… Youngish, Black, dressed… normal, I suppose? She had a thing on her head, like a… ARCHIVIST: [SHAKY BREATH] CELIA: I don’t known like a, a woolly hat? But… I–I don’t know, it looked a bit weird. ARCHIVIST: … A–Annabelle, hum… CELIA: I didn’t catch her name– ARCHIVIST: Shh-shh-shh! I– Please, I, I need to concentrate. [STATIC RISES] [VERY QUIETLY] Right, Martin, come on, come on… come on, don’t try and do this to me. Not now. [STATIC FADES] Argh! Oh god. Okay, hum…

* Not the first time we had the conditions to fear about Martin’s safety: there had been the Lonely house scare, the fear that Martin would just disappear when Jon was giving a statement and unaware of his surroundings (which… kind of happened here, although distantly), the fear of Martin and Jon not finding each other back right away after Martin’s domain… so it had to happen at some point, uh.

* Well, she had already been described wearing a hoodie in MAG123, but seems like Annabelle has really stopped looking “like a vintage clothing store exploded on her” x”)

* Jon’s gradually rising panic as he slowly understood what might have happened was heartbreaking ;;

* Confirming another difference between the tunnels and a perimeter under the camera’s protection: Jon can still try to use his powers here. When he had tried to compel Salesa, it had not worked at all – no static, no power.

- Jon’s voice, this season ;w; I love how he has such a wide range lately – almost god-like around the drones, tender about Martin, bashful when he apologised thinking Martin was in the room, slightly awkward when it turned out it was Celia, absolutely panicking when he realised that Martin had left with Annabelle and that he couldn’t know about them, aggressive when he snapped at Celia to wake up Melanie&Georgie, anxious wreck with Melanie. I like how he was quick to tell Melanie that it wasn’t the right moment for her to be sarcastic through her choices of words, and how Melanie indeed relented:

(MAG194) [DOOR OPENS AND FOOTSTEPS ENTER] MELANIE: Any luck? ARCHIVIST: [FRUSTRATED] Nothing. I–is Georgie back yet? MELANIE: Not yet. [INHALE] But then she actually needs to go places to look at them. She can’t just… pop up top and check the “big picture”. ARCHIVIST: Melanie, please. … Not now. MELANIE: … Sorry.

Melanie doesn’t like Jon, she said, but that doesn’t mean she revels in his misery and active discomfort, and I like that they have this complex relationship where they can still help each other out (Jon telling her how to quit at the end of season 4, Melanie reminding Georgie that they should help Jon&Martin, and Melanie guiding Jon through what they can deduce from Annabelle and Martin’s departure).

- That was such a nice parallel (and a contrast!) with when Jon had come to ask for Melanie’s help at the end of season 4:

(MAG157) ARCHIVIST: Melanie, I… MELANIE: Jon…? ARCHIVIST: Yeah, it’s… me. GEORGIE: It’s all right, Melanie. Jon, leave. [ADMIRAL STARTS PURRING] ARCHIVIST: I’m sorry, I just… It’s Martin. MELANIE: Jon… don’t… Please. ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] … No, you’re right, I’m sorry. A–are you all right? MELANIE: Yes! I’m, hum… actually doing okay…! […] It’s, it’s okay. He’s… welcome. As a friend. But that’s it. ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] … Right. MELANIE: But you’re not after a friend, are you, Jon? ARCHIVIST: I need an ally. MELANIE: Then I can’t help you. [SILENCE] ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] I suppose not… GEORGIE: Okay [ADMIRAL MEOWS IN PROTEST], you’re done. [PURRING CEASES] ARCHIVIST: Yeah. [INHALE] Yeah, I am. GEORGIE: Come on, Melanie, let’s get you back to bed. ARCHIVIST: Look after yourself. Both of you. MELANIE: You too. Good… luck, I guess. ARCHIVIST: … Thanks.

Martin just left with a powerful avatar, Jon doesn’t know their intentions, is worried for Martin, doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t have many people around, and goes to Melanie to ask for help. Except this time, Melanie&Georgie have decided that they would help – and indeed, Georgie went to take a look around, and Melanie is (awkwardly) reassuring Jon.

- Nothing new about what the camera does, it’s the same property that had been previously established:

(MAG180) ARCHIVIST: I don’t know what’s next. MARTIN: What…? But, like, you, you can see “literally everything”, so– ARCHIVIST: I–I can, but i–it’s a blind spot! No idea why; I–I didn’t realise until we got closer, and I was looking at our route, but… I can’t see the area after the necropolis. None of it; it’s, it’s like the inside of the Panopticon, or, or wherever Georgie and Melanie are hiding. MARTIN: Or Annabelle. ARCHIVIST: … Or Annabelle. MARTIN: You think the others might be there? ARCHIVIST: [DELIGHTED] I have no idea! It’s a mystery! […] MARTIN: Get ready. ARCHIVIST: To do… what? MARTIN: What do you mean “what”? To smite them, if we need to. Wait, hang on, can you even smite people here? ARCHIVIST: I, I don’t think so.

(MAG181) SALESA: How’re you feeling? MARTIN: [BLOWING AIR] ARCHIVIST: Disorientated. It’s like, hum… li–like I’ve lost my sight o–or, uh… SALESA: Well, you have, haven’t you? [HE CHUCKLES. IT ISN’T THE FRIENDLIEST SOUND] Annabelle tells me you work for “The Eye”. […] Your powers won’t work here, Jonathan Sims, Head-Archivist-of-the-Magnus-Institute-London! The Eye can’t see this place…! […] an old broken camera. One that through some… quirk had the ability to hide you from the Powers…! It was in the possession of another scared old man, one who had long been running from his own supernatural debts. I believe it operates as a sort of, uh, battery, charging itself on all the quiet worries that come from living in hiding, and then when the sanctuary collapses, eh!, all that fear flows out at once. … No doubt if my oasis breaks before I die, The Eye will get quite the feast from me. […] I. Was. Right…! Both about the world, and about the camera: it hid me from The Eye, which, in the new order of reality, also protects where I am from the hellscape all around us. And when I realised that the power moves with the camera, well, hm!, let’s just say I loaded up a truckload of supplies and went on some journeys of my own, before I found… this place.

(MAG194) MELANIE: So, you… you didn’t see them at all with your, you know…? ARCHIVIST: Nothing. They’re hidden. A… Annabelle must have taken the camera. MELANIE: The camera? ARCHIVIST: Uh, from… Salesa’s.

If it is indeed the camera hiding her (since Jon can’t absolutely know about it, and Annabelle has known how to keep herself hidden in the past). Jon had highlighted it, but it’s very interesting that she apparently found a way to stay under the radar since season 4, even when she hadn’t joined Salesa (and the protection of the camera) yet:

(MAG148) ARCHIVIST: Did he say anything about Annabelle? BASIRA: Not really. Sounds like he’s not too worried, though. Says to just ignore it. ARCHIVIST: [SNORTING] Yeah, good luck with that! BASIRA: Any luck finding her? ARCHIVIST: I haven’t really been trying. Doing that sort of thing consciously, it… makes me hungry.

(MAG155) BASIRA: No sign of Annabelle either. ARCHIVIST: You’re still on that? BASIRA: You’re not? ARCHIVIST: … I–I mean, I don’t know how much she can predict or manipulate the future, but I think she’s proven she can at least avoid us finding her.

(MAG164) ARCHIVIST: … I think it was Annabelle Cane. MARTIN: Hm. ARCHIVIST: That’s… weird, I, I know The Web was wrapped around that phone, but, but I can’t… see her. A–at all. At least with Georgie and Melanie, I have a vague sense they’re still alive, i–in London, and, or– Well, what was London. [STATIC DECREASES] But Annabelle…? Nothing. [STATIC FADES] Hm.

(MAG167) MARTIN: Do you know where she was calling from? ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] No. She… No; she is still… hidden, somewhere, I–I could… see her voice coming down the phone line, but the closer it gets to her, the harder it is to see. … Hm, Christ, this all feels so… obtuse; it’s like I have the power to drink the whole ocean, but I… have to do it through a straw!

(MAG172) MARTIN: … And Annabelle? ARCHIVIST: Still can’t see her. If it wasn’t for the phone call, I’d have said she was probably already dead…! MARTIN: Yeah… [SIGH]

(MAG181) ARCHIVIST: Look. I–it’s no accident we finally meet face-to-face in the one place I–I can’t get any answers out of her. ANNABELLE: [SMUG] I’m sure I don’t know what you mean…!

To the point that even now, Jon conjectured that she was protected by the camera, but we can’t be sure if it’s indeed the case (due to the camera itself, and Annabelle’s credentials when it comes to hiding herself).

- ;_; It was kind of expected since Salesa had mentioned the likeliness of him dying, but still, aouch that he indeed died…

(MAG181) SALESA: I don’t know what you want me to say, it’s a big house and I don’t see her much. Can’t even say which corner she’s made her nest in! Whatever she’s doing… all I can do is hope it doesn’t wreck my little oasis. And if it does… then I hope that by keeping her in good graces, she’ll at least do me the courtesy of killing me first? MARTIN: Mm-mm… SALESA: … Anyway. Let us talk of happier things, or perhaps just take a moment to enjoy not being out there…! […] In the end… I find myself quite happy. I’ve supplies, for a good few years, and then I… plan to take my own life. I think perhaps that’s the greatest blessing the camera can bestow: I – can – die – here. Escape this place. Not yet, of course; and maybe the wine will do me in before I have to take matters into my own hands, but still… it remains a comfort.

(MAG194) MELANIE: The camera? ARCHIVIST: Uh, from… Salesa’s. MELANIE: O–oh. So does that mean he’s…? ARCHIVIST: … Dead. MELANIE: Right. ARCHIVIST: Yes, I… [INHALE] I checked. [EXHALE] I guess she liked him enough to do that for him before she stole it. MELANIE: Remind me not to get on her good side. ARCHIVIST: No, i–it’s what he wanted. What he… said he wanted, but… [FOOTSTEPS] i–it–it means there’s… there’s no way I can find them!

* He went far in the Battle Of The Recurring Michaels (Mike Crew, Michael the Distortion, Mike-as-Tim’s-VA), but still, this Mikaele too got killed off in the end.

* I love Melanie, I love how quickly she pointed out that it was messed up.

* I appreciate Jon’s nuance regarding Salesa’s wish, correcting it into “what he said he wanted”: the fact that he had thought about his own ending (either killed by Annabelle, either by the wine, either by his own hands) and found it a “comfort” that he was able to… was still fundamentally sad and horrible? It’s mostly that, with the world as it is since the Change, it was this or an eternity of torture, and he made his choice while weighting the two… but I like Jon’s precautions, here, with that “what he said he wanted”, and the contrast there is between this and “what he wanted”.

- I really wonder how the scene went and if Annabelle will describe it – Jon immediately assumed that it meant that Annabelle had killed him, but it’s also possible that she warned him that she would take the camera and that Salesa did it himself? (Would still be Annabelle pushing him to it in a way… unless she offered Salesa the option to come with her, protected by the camera, and he declined that.)

If we go with the idea that Annabelle liked him, and killed him as a favour before taking the camera… that’s, uh, a bad sign for the whole state of the world? It kind of implies that no, Annabelle’s plans aren’t to turn the world back or to cast the Fears away – if it had been the case, wouldn’t it have been better for Salesa to accept to suffer hell for a little while before Annabelle succeeded? Unless he didn’t believe that it was possible, unless Annabelle didn’t like him enough to protect him, etc., but hum… if we go with Jon’s assumption that Annabelle killed Salesa as a favour, that’s worrisome for what Annabelle is aiming for on a larger scale, if that death is still a “mercy”…?

- I love the ways Melanie awkwardly tried to reassure Jon, while being clearly uncomfortable with Jon spilling his guts, but that she still understood that Jon was worried sick for his partner and that this was still something she could relate to. And the fact that Jon was now also worried for Georgie!! The fact that she doesn’t feel Fear and that she’s mostly insulated from The Eye doesn’t mean that she’s invincible…

(MAG194) ARCHIVIST: [FOOTSTEPS] I–it–it means there’s… there’s no way I can find them! MELANIE: Hey, hey! ARCHIVIST: And I– MELANIE: Hey! Keep it together. Okay? Georgie might have better luck. She’s actually looking in person, and from what you said… ARCHIVIST: Yeah, no, I, I mean– MELANIE: Yeah– ARCHIVIST: –that could work, but… but if she finds them alone…! Uh, I mean, if anything were to happen–! MELANIE: They can handle themselves…! Right? ARCHIVIST: You’re right. Uh, you’re… [INHALE] You’re right. MELANIE: [EXHALE] It’s, it’s fine. I’m worried too.

… I’m Worried about Melanie using “they can handle themselves” as a reason to not be too worried, though, because it sure puts to mind one of Annabelle and Martin’s only exchanges:

(MAG181) MARTIN: We could make her tell us. ARCHIVIST: No, we couldn’t. I don’t have my powers, if it came to a physical fight I really don’t rate our chances…! MARTIN: Hey, I can handle myself! ANNABELLE: But can you handle me? [SILENCE] MARTIN: … I don’t like you. ANNABELLE: I know.

MARTIN…

- It’s less funny for Melanie when she has to hear about Jon’s life when it comes from Jon rather than from Martin, uh.

(MAG190) MELANIE: Yourself? MARTIN: Oh, uh, I’m the antichrist’s plus one. MELANIE: [CHORTLES] Oh, that… that sounds like a rough gig! MARTIN: [SMILING] It has its perks. […] So how are you and Georgie doing? MELANIE: Hm! Honestly? Uh… well. These were not the early relationship hurdles I expected. MARTIN: God, tell me about it…! […] MELANIE: And what about Jon? MARTIN: Oh. You know Jon. He’s a complete mess, but, so am I, and… I think we’re making it work. Communication can be… difficult when you’re on an unholy pilgrimage, hm! MELANIE: Modern dating, eh? MARTIN: [CHUCKLE] Nightmare.

(MAG191) ARCHIVIST: … This is my fault. MELANIE: What? ARCHIVIST: We… We had an argument. MELANIE: Oh… ARCHIVIST: I–I said some things I shouldn’t have, if… if I hadn’t we would have come back here together, and I–I’d have been there to stop her taking him. MELANIE: You don’t know that’s what happened. ARCHIVIST: I mean, he wouldn’t have gone willingly! … Would he? MELANIE: You tell me. You said there was no sign of a struggle. ARCHIVIST: But if it happened in the tunnel, I can’t “know” that! MELANIE: But we’d have heard. Stuff echoes down here. ARCHIVIST: I suppose…! What, so you think he chose to leave with her? MELANIE: Does it matter right now? ARCHIVIST: I mean, if they left together willingly, they could already be miles away…!

(* Extra-dose of awkward for Melanie since she’s kind of reassuring her girlfriend’s ex over his own relationship.)

* Same thing as Jonah using Jon for his ritual: it superficially feels like it could have been avoided in a million of ways… but at the same time, it feels like the end result would have happened anyway, because Annabelle was searching for an opening. If it hadn’t been now, it would have been another time in the tunnels.

* I’m surprised that Melanie and Jon both considered that the absence of a struggle was hinting that Martin had gone willingly… given that it involved a Web agent. As Breekon had pointed out: “The Spider’s always an easy job – no fuss, no complication, everything planned and prepared. It knows too much to truly be a Stranger, but hides its knowing well enough to endure.” (MAG128) It feels like if Annabelle wanted to take Martin out without a fuss, she just could have done that?

- I like how Melanie took over Martin’s role to make Jon think of practical things when Jon is stuck on his own fears and worries. It’s just like in front of the Panopticon when Martin suggested how Beholding might work against Jonah too and had taken actions to enter the building: Melanie tried to evaluate what Jon could “know”, what had happened, what connection they had with Annabelle, what they could conjecture from Martin leaving with her.

- Every time Jon more or less summarises Annabelle as being One with The Web, I’m a bit more mmmm about the concept:

(MAG130) ARCHIVIST: And the question is now simply … how much I trust the Spider to have my… best interests at heart. … Hm. I suspect my assuming it has a heart might be a clue I’m looking at this the wrong way.

(MAG146) ARCHIVIST: I–I want to know; can The Web control another avatar, one that serves a different power? HELEN: [HELEN LAUGHS AND LAUGHS, ECHOING] ARCHIVIST: Make them do things they don’t want to, make them… [BREATHING FASTER] find victims, feed?

(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] […] 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…

(MAG150) ARCHIVIST: Melanie, could you… could you describe your therapist for me? MELANIE: [CHUCKLING] What? You think I wouldn’t notice if she had cobwebs down her face? ARCHIVIST: … No? […] O–kay. [SIGH] It’s just… The Web can be subtle, you understand? MELANIE: And? For all you know, its plan is to paralyse you with indecision…! ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] MELANIE: Leaving you… sitting here, terrified that… everything you do is somehow all part of its Grand Plan… And who do you think that fear is gonna feed? ARCHIVIST: Yes, well. [INHALE] You are… not the first, to make that point.

(MAG172) MARTIN: [LONG SIGH] Jon, what does The Web want? It’s… I mean, we know it’s got a plan, can’t you just… see what it is? ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] “Knowing”, “seeing”… i–it’s not the same thing as… understanding. Every time I try to know what The Web’s plan is, if it can even be called a plan, I see… a hundred thousand events and causes and links, an impossibly intricate pattern of consequences and subtle nudges, but I–I can’t…! … I can’t hold them all in my head at the same time. There’s no way to see the “whole”, the, the point of it all. I can see all the details, but it doesn’t… provide… context or… intention. I suppose The Web doesn’t work in knowledge, not in the same way.

(MAG180) ARCHIVIST: So… Annabelle, what are you playing at, what are you doing here? ANNABELLE: I really wouldn’t worry about that. I’m just helping out around the place a little bit. Making myself at home. You know how it is.

(MAG181) ARCHIVIST: [SHARPLY] I don’t intend to accept anything offered by Annabelle Cane. MARTIN: [SIGH] SALESA: Oh, you know Annabelle? [SILENCE BUT FOR CLOCK TICKING IN THE BACKGROUND] ARCHIVIST: … Sort of. You do know she’s part of The Web? SALESA: [SARCASTICALLY] No? I assumed the thread holding her head together was due to a childhood knitting accident! [CHUCKLES] MARTIN: Ha! SALESA: Of course I know she’s with The Web. ARCHIVIST: … And that doesn’t bother you? […] And perhaps you’re now just trying to humanise yourself so we underestimate your next move…! […] I don’t have my powers, if it came to a physical fight I really don’t rate our chances…! […] That’s the trouble with old houses, I suppose. Full of spiders.

(MAG194) MELANIE: So, what other reason might she want him? ARCHIVIST: To get to me? To… turn him a–against us, or–or make him an offer or… I don’t know, she serves The Web! So i–it’s probably some… bullshit domino… cause-and-effect… thing we can’t even begin to guess!

Jon has not been the only one to refer to The Web as the Fear that will always get its way, but every time Jon gets defensive and antagonistic towards it, ready to blame everything on it… I wonder if it’s not a projection of Jon’s own fears and trauma (the fact that he barely managed to escape Mr Spider’s clutch, and that it took his bully instead of him) rather than anything grounded in reality. Knowing that The Web is around is enough for him to get antagonistic, to go spiralling, to refuse to assume anything obvious… and there is such consistency in Jon’s perception of The Web that I have trouble taking it at face value? Is it really the nature of The Web to function on obfuscated plans, or does Jon present it as way more threatening thanit actually is because of his personal trauma…?

(And in return: not sure either that Martin has a full grasp of Jon’s fear of The Web. He has known since season 1 that Jon didn’t like spiders; he didn’t question that Jon would worry about Annabelle; he was aware that The Web could get in people’s head in MAG172 when he refused for Jon to take a look in his mind to see if he was influenced, and had been afraid of the fact that he had began to wander in the domain. But does Martin know that Jon was traumatised by The Web as a kid, that even Jonah thought that The Web had sent Jon towards him for his ritual? Does Martin know about Mr. Spider, did Jon ever tell him? Jon hadn’t told him about how his worst recent experience, the one that had made him feel the most “powerless”, had been at the hands of Daisy…)

- Best sound descriptor of the season:

(MAG194) ARCHIVIST: [EXASPERATED] How am I supposed to know? I… I can’t see anything, down here! MELANIE: For god’s sake! Pull your head out of your arse, stop trying to use it as a bloody antenna, and actually try thinking! ARCHIVIST: Just listen, Melanie, I– argh! Ow! [THE ARCHIVIST IS STRUCK, NOT WITH A REVELATION BUT MELANIE’S CANE] MELANIE: Think! ARCHIVIST: Ow…! I don’t know!

MELANIE……………

(It was harsh, but she had a point that Jon was instinctively trying to rely on his powers rather than trying to think things through. Understandable given that he’s worried for Martin, but Jon kind of did the same thing at Upton House, when he tried to compel Salesa to get his story instead of asking it the non-spooky way. The way Jon will instinctively reach for his Beholding powers rather than making a conscious decision to use them every time is a bit worrisome…?)

- YAY FOR HILL TOP ROAD.

(MAG194) MELANIE: Think! ARCHIVIST: Ow…! I don’t know! Somewhere she’d be strong? A, a place of power, a, a Web domain… MELANIE: Yeah… I… ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] MELANIE: I… don’t think there’s anywhere like that in London… ARCHIVIST: No. I–it’s all Eye, one way or another. MELANIE: So, what about nearby? … Hmm? … Uh, Jon? ARCHIVIST: [REALISING] Oh god… MELANIE: Wh… what? ARCHIVIST: … They’re going to Hill Top Road.

* HTR as still being a place-of-power for The Web had been established for a while:

(MAG139, Eugene Vanderstock) “The compromise we came to… was Hill Top Road. We knew it was a stronghold of The Web, full of other children Agnes’s age.”

(MAG146) HELEN: There is… something wrong, with Hill Top Road. You know it as well as I do. Some strange “scar in reality” at the centre of… whatever it is the Spider is spinning.

But it also means “Agnes”, and “the scar in reality” after her fight with Fielding…

* I’m surprised that Melanie didn’t think of Hill Top Road either, since she had been part of the expedition there in MAG147, had seen the cobwebs, had been there the previous episode when it had been established that they were going there to precisely find Annabelle, since Jon thought she might be, and was also there when it turned out that Annabelle had left a statement in the house. I mean! Where else could Annabelle have gone?

* I’m super excited that Martin is going first with Annabelle since… he hadn’t been part of that expedition in season 4, and I remember the interrogations about whether he wasn’t supposed to go (yet) but was meant to visit the place on his own at some point.

* Following Martin&Annabelle’s trail, for Jon, means directly going against one of Annabelle’s “orders”:

(MAG147, Annabelle Cane) “Or perhaps I am simply telling you what you need to hear, in order to behave exactly as the Mother wishes you to. [STATIC RISES, GRADUALLY] Perhaps… I have never even seen a beach. Don’t… go to Hill Top Road again.” [STATIC FADES] ARCHIVIST: … Statement ends…! [INHALE] That was, er… I d– … I–I didn’t like that. I couldn’t… [STUTTERING] [CLEARS THROAT]

And he did end up… not coming back, and there was static when she said it (plain old static, which usually indicates that something supernatural is going on). Was it a compulsion, a supernatural order…? Will he have to fight against this to be able to go and enter Hill Top Road again…? Why was he not meant to stay around the house even before the Change, what is hidden there, what was he not supposed to interact with…?

- Annabelle had dangled her “help” to Martin for a looong while this season – the question wasn’t really if but rather when she would finally make her move:

(MAG163) MARTIN: Uh… Jon? [OLD PHONE RINGING] Uh, Jo–Jon, the, uh, the payphone that’s… here, for some reason, it’s–it’s ringing? [OLD PHONE RINGING] Jon, is–is that… [ASKING AROUND] I–is anyone gonna get that? [OLD PHONE RINGING] … Unless it’s for me? [OLD PHONE RINGING] [SIGH] Yeah, it’s for me. Uh… nnno. [OLD PHONE RINGING] N–no, no, I don’t think so, actually! Hum, thanks, but that, that sounds like a really… terrible idea! [OLD PHONE RINGING] Hm, sorry! [SILENCE] … Huh. Wwwell, all right then! [BODIES WADING THROUGH LIQUID] ARCHIVIST: Martin, you need to keep up. It’s not safe. … Martin? You okay? MARTIN: Uh, I… Th–ther–there was a phone – that phone. ARCHIVIST: … Oh. MARTIN: It… Yeah, it was ringing? ARCHIVIST: Oh. Right… Did you answer it? MARTIN: No. ARCHIVIST: Hm. [INHALE] Probably for the best…! MARTIN: Yeeaahh.

(MAG164) MARTIN: Fair point~! Okay, okay, uh, what else, what else, hum… Oh! Hum, uh, who was, uh–uh, phone – hum, wh–who was calling me? [STATIC INCREASES] ARCHIVIST: … I think it was Annabelle Cane. MARTIN: Hm. ARCHIVIST: That’s… weird, I, I know The Web was wrapped around that phone, but, but I can’t… see her. A–at all. At least with Georgie and Melanie, I have a vague sense they’re still alive, i–in London, and, or– Well, what was London. [STATIC DECREASES] But Annabelle…? Nothing. [STATIC FADES] Hm. MARTIN: W–well, I’ll… I’ll ask her, next time she calls. ARCHIVIST: Well, I know that’s a bad idea…!

(MAG166) MARTIN: For god’s sake…! [WIPING HIS HANDS] [NOKIA RINGTONE, CLEARER] [MUFFLED BUZZING] [BAG JOSTLING] [BEEP] MARTIN: Hello? ANNABELLE: Hello? Is that Martin? MARTIN: Don’t do that. ANNABELLE: What? No stomach for games? MARTIN: Well, your “games” aren’t exactly fun for everyone, are they? ANNABELLE: Very few games are…! MARTIN: [SIGH] Look, look, look, I’m talking to Annabelle Cane, right? ANNABELLE: You never gave me your name – so why should I offer mine? MARTIN: Just, what do you want? ANNABELLE: I want to help you, of course. [SILENCE] MARTIN: … No. Thank you.

(MAG167) [STATIC RISES] ARCHIVIST: Help us with what? MARTIN: ‘xcuse me? ARCHIVIST: Annabelle, help us with “what”? Our–our, our journey, killing Elias, vanishing the Entities – what? [FOOTSTEPS STOP] MARTIN: Please don’t do that. […] She offered to help, but she didn’t say what with; she… asked us where we were going. I didn’t tell her, but… [SNORT] it was pretty obvious she had a good idea. ARCHIVIST: Did you… feel like she was… influencing your mind at all? MARTIN: I don’t think so, but I mean… who knows? ARCHIVIST: I could. MARTIN: But look. She didn’t control me into asking you not to look into my head, if that’s what you’re thinking. That’s all me.

(MAG181) ANNABELLE: Perhaps I just value my privacy. MARTIN: Fine, fine! Why did you call me before? ANNABELLE: Perhaps I thought you could use a friendly voice…! MARTIN: “Friendly”!? You told me Jon didn’t need me! ANNABELLE: Objectively true. MARTIN: [AGGRAVATED SIGH] ANNABELLE: And more importantly, perhaps I thought you might need a little bit of righteous indignation to help you power through the next steps. MARTIN: … I, I don’t like being manipulated. ANNABELLE: Then we probably aren’t going to be friends. […] Don’t worry, Martin. We’ll meet again. Hopefully when you’re feeling a little bit more… open-minded…! MARTIN: I wouldn’t count on it. ANNABELLE: I would. MARTIN: [SIGH] ARCHIVIST: That’s the trouble with old houses, I suppose. Full of spiders. ANNABELLE: You boys better take care of yourselves. I’m sure we’ll see each other again very soon. Here! Why don’t I show you out?

My questions are still: why Martin, and why didn’t she make her offer when Jon&Martin were at Upton House? Regarding the latter: Annabelle had implied that she was waiting for Martin to be in better dispositions (“open-minded”), which wasn’t the case at Upton House. During their previous exchanges, Martin was wary and antagonising towards her, but something kind of changed with this episode: Jon just insisted that they should consider the idea that Jon would sacrifice himself, which was the scenario Martin felt strongly against, and as Jon pointed out… there are now lacking other options.

(MAG186) MARTIN: So. This price. What do you think? Are we going to have to kill Jon? ALSO MARTIN: … I don’t know, because you don’t know. But… it seems like something we should at least consider. MARTIN: … I… have thought about it, and… I won’t. I, I don’t think I could…! ALSO MARTIN: Mmhmm. MARTIN: But anything else? Any other price? I’ll pay it. ALSO MARTIN: Even dying? MARTIN: Yeah! ALSO MARTIN: Jon’s as bad as we are. He wouldn’t let it happen. MARTIN: It’s not his decision. ALSO MARTIN: Fine. So flip that round, then. What are you going to do when he tries to sacrifice himself, because you know he’s going to try? MARTIN: I don’t know all right? [SIGH] I don’t know.

(MAG191) ARCHIVIST: Martin, when the time comes, I need you to promise me that you won’t try to stop me. MARTIN: … I promise. I love you, Jon. ARCHIVIST: [FOND HUFF] I love you too. MARTIN: But I’m not going to doom the world over it. ARCHIVIST: … Thank you. MARTIN: [INHALE] And you have to promise me that you’re going to do everything in your power to live. That you’re not going to… sacrifice yourself at the first opportunity, just because you feel guilty about what happened. ARCHIVIST: [BREATH] … I promise.

(MAG194) ARCHIVIST: [QUIETLY] It… it might be our only option. MARTIN: [VEHEMENTLY] What are you talking about?! How, how is it an “option”? Okay, setting aside the fact that it’s a suicidal idea, it’s just completely stupid! What actual good would it do? Right now, as far as I can see, we’d just be… swapping one self-important, floating, hollowed-out terror zombie for another! ARCHIVIST: It’s not like that! MARTIN: Really? Then please, enlighten me. Go on, I’m all ears! ARCHIVIST: Look. Right, when I said that I would “replace” Jonah in there, that’s not… I m– … That place, the centre of The Eye, i–it’s… it wasn’t made for him. That’s why he’s like that, it’s too much, it’s overwhelmed him, his whole being just destroyed…! MARTIN: Oh yeah? But let me guess, it was made for you? ARCHIVIST: Yes! MARTIN: [PETULANTLY] Of course it is! Of course, it is! Because how could this journey possibly end with anything less than the final, supreme destiny of the Archivist, plugged into the great fear machine for all eternity and, and abandoning humanity. Breaking his promise…! […] ARCHIVIST: … Martin… MARTIN: We’re here to stop this, not… not take it over…! [SILENCE BUT FOR THE DISTANT DRONE NOISES] ARCHIVIST: What other choice do we have? MARTIN: I–I don’t know, all right! I d–, but there is one. Because there has to be. ARCHIVIST: But what if there isn’t? How long are we going to wander around hopelessly searching before we end up back here anyway? MARTIN: You were the one that wanted to take some time to think things over…! ARCHIVIST: We can’t just dismiss this. It might be our only option. [SILENCE SAVE FOR THE TOWER NOISES] MARTIN: … No. ARCHIVIST: No? MARTIN: No! I forbid it.

Martin’s initial declaration was precisely that he would refuse to kill Jon, which is not the exact same thing that he made Jon promise when they were resting in the tunnels – that Jon would actively try to find another way than sacrificing himself, and wouldn’t do it out of guilt. Martin also told Jon that he wouldn’t “doom the world” over his love for him, but… deciding this in quiet circumstances is yet again different from being directly confronted by the possibility. So, in any case: Jon&Martin had begun their journey with the intention of confronting Elias (MAG162: “Do you think it’ll do anything? Confronting Elias?” “I… Maybe?” “No, I’m serious. Do we… Is there a chance that we can undo this?” “Gertrude didn’t think so.” “… Right.” “But she’s dead. Let’s find out for ourselves.”), they did reach Elias but discovered that a “confrontation” was impossible anyway, that it might even have been Beholding trying to lure Jon here to take Elias’s place, they don’t have any more info, they’re lacking options and the only potential “solution” presented by Jon isn’t, as Martin pointed out, really one. That’s not utter desperation yet, but still dire enough to understand that Martin would finally be in ~better dispositions~ to hear Annabelle out, even if he’s probably planning to backstab like with Elias and Peter (while knowing that Annabelle knows that he knows that she knows that he knows that she knows… that he doesn’t trust her and will seek any opportunity to neutralise her).

But still, why Martin and not Jon…? Annabelle tried to contact him at the beginning of season 5, and once again addressed him when they left Upton House. Martin had also reacted strangely inside of The Web’s domain:

(MAG172) MARTIN: … Sorry. You were starting another and, I didn’t want to wait. We should get going. ARCHIVIST: Y–you were listening, I… I–I–I thought that you– MARTIN: No, I… Not for most of it. I just thought I heard… something. Whatever. I went exploring, all right? I don’t know why; I shouldn’t have. ARCHIVIST: No, you–you shouldn’t have! […] MARTIN: Can we just go, please? ARCHIVIST: Of course, but… You were safe here. And after everything that’s already happened, I… I–I just don’t understand why you would– MARTIN: [SHAKEY] Me neither, okay! ARCHIVIST: What? MARTIN: I mean, that’s it, isn’t it?! I don’t know! I don’t know why I went exploring! ARCHIVIST: Are you saying you were… compelled? MARTIN: I’m saying I don’t know, do I? I thought I was just curious, it felt like curiosity, but… given where we are, and with The Web everywhere, and Annabelle Cane still out there playing mind games with payphones, I just… [SIGH] I mean, how do you even know if it’s your motivation, you know? Being here… [SIGH] I–it just makes me second-guess all of it, and I… I don’t like it, it… really scares me.

Why does Annabelle and/or The Web seek Martin first and foremost, and not Jon…? Is it only to use Martin as bait to get to Jon, as Jon mentioned, since direct contacts would be more likely to go very badly (he was aware that Annabelle had only decided to show herself when she had the guarantee that Jon wouldn’t be able to use his powers on her, in MAG181: “Look. I–it’s no accident we finally meet face-to-face in the one place I–I can’t get any answers out of her.” “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean…!”), or is it about something inherent to Martin…?

It’s very funny, in a horrible way, because alongside a long list of parallels with the end of season 4 (Jon panicking because a reccurring avatar linked to another Fear has taken Martin in a place that is still a mystery to Jon), we’re also back to the same questions we had back then – why did Peter need Martin specifically? It turned out that he needed him as a dual Lonely/Eye candidate to take control of the Panopticon, which would allow him to win his bet against Elias, Martin’s final decision of whether or not he would take Jonah’s place deciding of the outcome. Does Annabelle need him as a Lonely/Eye avatar? As someone who could also dip his toes in with The Web? As Jon’s anchor?

- There is the question of why Martin followed her, and whether he did so “willingly”… given that we know how The Web interacts with free will:

(MAG056, Trevor Herbert) “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) “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. […] Then, without warning, I wasn’t waiting anymore. I had turned around, put down my suitcase, and started walking back towards Raymond Fielding’s house. I didn’t want to go back. I had no reason to go back, but I had apparently decided to anyway, because I knew that’s where I was going. After two and a half years, I was rather used to this feeling, but there was something else there, this time, something in the back of my mind – a frantic scuttling terror. It didn’t do any good, though. I was returning to Hill Top Road, no matter what I might feel about it. Choices didn’t even come into it. The door was unlocked when I returned, and the house was quiet. My eyes darted around looking for anyone who might be able to tell me what was going on, why the fine threads that pulled me through my life had dragged me back here, but I was alone.”

(MAG081) ARCHIVIST: “MR. SPIDER WANTS ANOTHER GUEST FOR DINNER” it reads, “IT IS POLITE TO KNOCK”. I feel my hand closing into a fist and reaching for the door, preparing to rap my knuckles on the grimy old wood. It was at that moment that a hand far bigger than my own slapped the book from my grip, before shoving me hard in the chest and sending me sprawling onto the floor. I was in the park a few roads away from my house. Had I taken the book there to read? Or did I somehow wander there while engrossed in it. To this day I don’t know, but I was in the park, and standing over me was… you know for the life of me I can’t remember his name. […] But as he did so, he flicked through it, and as his eyes passed over more and more of the page, the words tailed off, and he seemed to be reading it himself. His hands shook ever so slightly as he slowly made his way through it, and his legs began to move. It was jerky and unsteady, and he didn’t seem to notice that he was doing it.

(MAG110, Alexia Crawley) “According to Dexter, Kumo was an old tokusatsu movie which, he believed, had come out sometime in the mid-to-late sixties. It was about a Spider – just the one, despite the title – that grew to a colossal size and terrorised a small unnamed island off the coast of Kagoshima. What struck him about it, though, was the utter absence of anything resembling a hero or a protagonist. No one fought against the monster, and although there were vignettes in the lives of those under the Spider’s shadow, they all ended the exact same way – with the character in question marching slowly, and calmly, into its waiting jaws.”

(MAG123, Angie Santos) “She just mumbled something about custom requirements, and told Greg to drink his latte. Which he did, so he tells me, though… he can’t stand milk in his coffee. […] I haven’t given the name of this mystery client because to be honest, Greg’s never told me. I’ve asked him plenty of times, but whenever I do, he gives me this… surprised look, insists he’s told me before, and then immediately forgets and changes the subject.”

(MAG136, Alison Killala) “I was about to ask her to wait while I checked with him but as I started to speak, she turned her head, revealing a mass of white thread, criss-crossing all over the side of her temple, standing starkly against the dark brown of her skin. She told me to sit down. And I did. I heard the levers and pulleys move behind me and I could tell that Neil was being walked down the corridor towards this woman… but I couldn’t see. I couldn’t turn my head. […] He called her “Annabelle”, and she sent me to his screening room. She told me I was to watch his original cuts – “Just until we’re all done here,” she said. And as I walked away from Neil, the last time I saw him alive… he was dancing. The cables shifting, and moving him in a graceful, sweeping ballet. And he was crying with joy. I don’t know how long I was watching those films. They don’t… It was hard to keep track of time. According to my daughter, I was missing for five months. When Annabelle let me out, Neil was dead. […] She told me to take the films. His… “original cuts”. She told me to come here. She told me to give them to you. I resisted for some time, but I’m done now. She’s won. And I’d… very much like to go home.”

I’m ready to write off a lot of Annabelle’s statement as things she said to mess with Jon on purpose (it worked.), but we nonetheless got a few demonstrations of Web agents or items being able to make people do things they didn’t necessarily want or that were actively harmful to them, and Annabelle in particular does have those powers according to the statements, so… there are various hypotheses regarding Martin following her:

* No choice at all, just like the kids at Ray’s house – he might be aware of what he’s doing but can’t do anything about it.

* More subtle manipulation along the lines of: he thinks he’s choosing to go, but the Spider is inside his head anyway, so he’s not aware of his own lack of decision on the matter. (Annabelle highlighted that this conception of The Web was a bit of a rabbit hole, since how does one know that their actions are not influenced by anything or anyone, at which point do internal mechanisms stop being just “our” decision? But we got Trevor highlighting what had happened to him, that he could feel that something was pulling strings.)

* Ugly blackmail: there were survivors in the tunnels, Celia was even around (since she saw them), so could have been a case of threatening to harm them if Martin didn’t follow her?

* Nothing supernatural, just the mundane manipulation of Annabelle offering her “help” to Martin when he’s lacking options. As mentioned above, I feel like after the beginning of the episode, Martin would have enough reasons to cling to any new possibility, even if it’s coming from someone he loathes, in case it could lead to a better alternative than Jon’s current one? With Martin thinking/hoping that he could outsmart her in the end?

- Another question is then why Annabelle went to fetch Martin when Jon wasn’t around, and why Martin agreed to leave without Jon…

* It’s interesting that Martin’s departure was still seen by someone, Celia, who could report to Jon. It wasn’t as sneaky as it could have been – so it sounds a bit intentional as a message (making sure that Jon would know that Martin left, and with whom).

* Regarding Martin’s choice: as far as urgency goes, the fact that he left for what-used-to-be Oxford has the added benefit of ensuring that Jon won’t fall into Beholding’s embrace at the top of the tower, because Jon would obviously follow Martin.

* … Timing-wise, it’s extremely interesting that Annabelle apparently went to get Martin while Jon was giving a statement outside. The tunnels are mostly insulated from The Eye (hence Jon mentioning he had trouble seeing and knowing) but it’s not a perfect protection – Jon pointed out that his condition there wasn’t as bad as at Upton house, and we could still hear static when he tried to use his powers while there had been truly nothing at Upton House. Did Annabelle need to sneak in and out when something else was focusing on Jon and wouldn’t notice her? Is it about Beholding? Is it about the tape recorder while it was focusing on Jon?)

* Relatedly: interesting that no tape recorder caught Martin’s departure. We know they’re not affected by the camera, so… is it because they’re Web/Annabelle and didn’t need that information when doing something, is it that they can only focus on one thing at a time, is it because Martin’s privacy mattered in that moment…?

- Once again, What Does The Spider Want but some things I like to keep in mind: we tend to equate “Annabelle” to “The Web”, which is not necessarily true. Jon’s description of Beholding artefacts and their level of consciousness was quite interesting in that regard:

(MAG194) ARCHIVIST: … Why am I even talking to you? You don’t even have a mind, not really. That’s what you want, isn’t it? Something to be your focus, your will. Keeping you fed, and placated and content!

The Fears, as themselves, are mostly drawn to being fed: is Annabelle really working to keep The Web fed, or are her intentions different? We’ve met various people who were actively hating their patron and going against it – Archival assistants, Gertrude, Jon, even Jonah postured as using Beholding for his own gains rather than truly worshipping it like other avatars. They were all Beholding folks, plus the ambiguous case of Agnes (who may have truly hoped that she would be able to carry out the cult’s ritual… or may have sabotaged the Lightless Flame by pretending that they had to wait for her and may have been actually fine with her daily life), who was bound to Gertrude and could also have been influenced by Beholding through that link (Agnes was described as staring a lot in the café, while Gertrude began to mostly use fire and explosives during her operations).

Is Annabelle absolutely in synch with her patron and working for its supremacy in yet another form (taking Beholding’s place at the top of the pyramid?), or could it turn out that she is in the same sort of situation as Jon, resentful towards the Fear that transformed her and made her rely on hurting others to thrive…?

We know that Annabelle hurt people, or was involved in things that ended up hurting people – the participants in the experiments leading to her creation have disappeared since then, the website Annabelle had commissioned led to a few people’s deaths (the Chelicerae’s website developer disappeared, we know that people had tried to contact him to apologise because they were suffering from the consequences, we know of at least one person who was turned into a spider husk, and Carlos Vittery died of spider and his name was in the website code), that Neil Lagorio died when she was in his home… but I still wonder. The whole Neil Lagorio statement had felt to me like, in the background, an older generation was passing down their knowledge to a younger one and/or that the younger one had come to grant their last wish (dancing). Was it a similar “mercy-kill” as what Salesa hoped for, or was it something else…? Was it even truly a mercy-kill in Salesa’s case? I can’t help but remember the differences between Salesa, who decided to stay in his safe protected bubble rather than actively helping, and Georgie&Melanie, who took the active decision to provide help, even in feeble measure… and who were there, sleeping and absolutely vulnerable. Annabelle had the capacity to be way more lethal than what she actually did, so I’m still at a loss about her intentions – on the one hand, it feels like she might have actively helped to get Jon marked, on the other hand… what she personally get from the apocalypse, how is it a mean to an end? Is it to strengthen The Web? Is it to destroy the Fears?

(- Another thing is that… it would have been easy for Annabelle to just kill off one of the survivors in the tunnels, if her intention was to take Martin with her and/or make Jon panic? We know that Helen had tried to grab Celia – the tunnels are not an absolute protection. But she didn’t.)

- Same thing with Hill Top Road as with Annabelle: we knew she would try to do something, the question was “when”, and in the same way, we knew Hill Top Road was coming – the season 4 Q&A had mentioned that we weren’t done with it, and MAG147 had felt like Annabelle was sending the signal that it was narratively too early for Jon to go there. Well, another question was also whether we would hear the whole story about it there, or through something left in the Panopticon/the Archives.

I still wonder if the Web domain near Helen’s hotel was Hill Top Road?

(MAG187) [STATIC INCREASES] HELEN: … Or you could just stand there glowering, that’s fine too. ARCHIVIST: I’m trying to know if there’s another route I can take. HELEN: And? [STATIC DECREASES] ARCHIVIST: Turns out there is, actually. But it is rather full of spiders.

Helen had lurked around HTR and tried to lure people inside to learn about it, so it would have been fitting for her to have taken roots nearby?

Regarding HTR: we’ve had many indications that time&space were wobbly concepts there even before the Change:

(MAG008, Ivo Lensik) “It must have been 8 or 9 in the evening, as it had been dark for a couple of hours. I was working on the ground floor wiring when I heard a knock at the front door. […] I opened the door to see an unassuming man in a tan coat. He was quite young, white, maybe mid-twenties, clean-shaven with shaggy, chestnut brown hair. His coat was quite an old cut; it seemed to me he looked like something out of an old Polaroid. He said his name was Raymond Fielding and that he owned the house. As he spoke, I felt my grip on the hammer tightening although I have no idea why. I asked him if he had any ID or documents and he handed over to me what seemed, as far as I could tell, to be the deed to the house, as well as the land beneath, and did indeed list a man named Raymond Fielding as the owner. So I let him in. […] After a minute or two, I became conscious of a sharp, unpleasant smell. I thought maybe I had wired something up wrong, but no, it smelled like burning human hair. I looked over to where Raymond had been standing but he was gone. Where he had been there was just a patch of scorched wooden floor, still apparently smouldering and giving off that dreadful stink. […] Even so, there were occasional moments when I would find myself the only one working in a room, or when silence fell across the building. And then I would smell it again, that whiff of burnt hair, or catch a glimpse of brown pigtails disappearing around a corner.” […] 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.

(MAG114, Anya Villette) “Obviously it was my decision. I remember the little handle was warm. I don’t know if that’s just my memory playing tricks on me, but I do remember that. 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. […] But now… everything’s wrong. I went to clean that house on April the 23rd 2009 which, according to all of you, is tomorrow. But it can’t be. That was two weeks ago.”

(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. [DOOR CLOSES] 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…

Ivo had seen Raymond Fielding and glimpses of kid!Agnes, there is the question of what happened with Anya, there is the question of whether or not the house had been occupied for the last few years, there is the question of whether or not there was actually a basement in the new house that was built there (and whether it’s the same basement Ray used to take the kids to become spiders eggs sacks once they were legally leaving his house). There is the overall question of what happened at Hill Top Road between Agnes and Raymond, leaving the place ~scarred~:

(MAG139, Eugene Vanderstock) “I was… not one of those assigned to watch our chosen one, so I can’t say much about exactly what happened within the walls of that house. But it seems the fight scarred the place in a way far deeper than simple fire. A scar in reality, that I believe has since been compounded by the interferences of other powers. Regardless, the effect it had on Agnes was unanticipated. As far as we could tell, she had destroyed the place utterly. And yet, she remained bound to it, tied to it in some vital way.”

(MAG146) HELEN: There is… something wrong, with Hill Top Road. You know it as well as I do. Some strange “scar in reality” at the centre of… whatever it is the Spider is spinning. When young mister McKenzie passed, it seemed like a good opportunity for an experiment. To see what would happen if I… lured him inside. But it seems I just don’t have The Web’s gift for… manipulation, or persuasion.

*whispers* I know that the popular theory is that HTR leads to a parallel universe, usually citing Anya’s experience, but I’m really not convinced – her whole statement still sounds like textbook Spiral to me, confusing her sense of time and space…? (Down to her name, “Anya Villette”, which sounds like a distortion of “Anne/Annie/Anna Willett (/Kasuma)”, the nurse who had told the HTR story to Father Burroughs in season 1). At the same time, back in season 4 I was seeing the hints and clues regarding Elias potentially being Jonah Magnus body-hopping and I wasn’t really “feeling” it either, and look at what was revealed at the end of that season, so who knows.

- Anyway!! I love that yep, it feels like the Panostitute is partially “done” for now (we won’t hear more information from there) so the last big scene is at HTR, which had been relevant for a looong while (since MAG008, and historically, from Gertrude’s time), whether we go back to the Panostitute at the end or not.

HTR was already weird before the Change (there was constant static in the background when the group visited it in MAG147, it was spooky), I wonder how it will look now… and we might get the Agnes statement I’ve been hoping for, whether through Jon (like he did with Gertrude in MAG167), or from Annabelle, or from a tape, or from a ghost of her…? Or a statement from the house itself, in situ from Jon?

- I wonder whether Georgie and Melanie (or one of them) will go with Jon to Hill Top Road? The people they rescued might be a reason for them to stay behind: they’re partially protected in the tunnels, but we know that Helen had visited them and had tried to get Celia, and there are the old Archivists near the stairs. Melanie&Georgie still offer an additional protection. Melanie had also pointed out that their protection didn’t work for long for other people outside (MAG190: “And… that’s when we discovered that we can keep others hidden as well. Not completely, and, and, not for long, but… it’s enough to get them here to the tunnels.”), so it won’t be a case of the whole group (Jon, Melanie, Georgie, the seven survivors) striding off together to Hill Top Road. So I don’t know if one of them will leave with Jon, or both (despite what it would mean for the survivors), or if precisely, the fact they have to protect the others in the tunnels will be a reason for them to stay behind and not go with Jon…?

(The situation is already very reminiscent of the end of season 4 with some changes in that previous narrative: unlike MAG157, Georgie&Melanie are currently helping Jon. They don’t need to come along with him to get Martin back for us to already feel that they’re helping.)

- I wonder if Jon will have to knock to enter Hill Top Road again. Someone whisked away inside of it and, contrary to the incident from his childhood… Jon having to go through that door, too, this time (“MR. SPIDER WANTS ANOTHER GUEST FOR DINNER. IT IS POLITE TO KNOCK”).

(One of my favourite details of early seasons is how people who knew Jon and expected him to be in his office… never knocked on his door, as if they knew that it made him uneasy. And season 5 had begun, in the trailer, with a “Knock Knock” joke…)

- List of stuff that is still left hanging:

* Jon’s lighter, which was mentioned for the last time at the end of MAG162 (when Martin pointed out that Jon still had it). Funny thing: next episode is MAG195, 35th episode of the season… and Breekon&Hope had delivered the table and the package at the end of MAG035. Jon opened the package at the end of MAG036, interrogated Martin about it in MAG037. So MAG196/MAG197 for when the nature of the lighter will finally be revealed (what it might have done to Jon, what is its purpose, who sent it in Jon’s way, if someone owned it before him)?

(* Since Jon is likely to leave London quite fast too: it seems nothing ominous after all was to happen involving the gas main in the tunnels, which had been brought up by Leitner&Gertrude’s tape in MAG162? I’m still uneasy about its existence and the fact that it had been moved down there for maximum destruction.)

* What Are The Tape Recorders – is someone listening through them, is someone curating what we hear of this story, is someone/something making them appear, etc.

* Annabelle’s and/or The Web’s intentions.

* Relatedly: what the camera might be used for? It’s possible that Annabelle only needed it to not be perceived by Beholding, but it’s also possible that she mostly needed to put it in a certain place – how will it interact with Hill Top Road? Will it ban the Fears from the house, thus making it… absolutely normal, deprived of any influence?

* What the fuck happened in Hill Top Road and what is the place like nowadays.

* Basira’s whereabouts? She was on her way to London. Will she join up with Jon before he leaves the tunnels or on his way to Hill Top Road? Will they miss each other? Will Annabelle orientate her towards Hill Top Road or has she already snatched her up too before Martin…?

Only six episodes to go…

At this point in time in previous seasons: Dr. Elliott was giving his statement about the anatomy students and pointing out to Jon that they had a worm infestation going on in the building; Jon was wondering what Michael got from his victims, and had discovered that someone was living in the tunnels and sometimes going up in the Archives; Jon read Anya’s statement, still had no clue about Hill Top Road, and finally got to talk with Tim, allowing them to find common ground; Jon had fought against Beholding’s pull, managing to find Eric’s tape, learning how to quit the Archives, and had immediately rushed to Martin to offer him to gouge their eyes out together to flee the Institute. As I mentioned, MAG194 reaally reminded me of MAG154 in some aspects, mainly around Jon and Martin’s argument ;w;

MAG195’s title is just PLAIN RUDE. It puts the Martin&Jon and Agnes&Gertrude bonds into my mind, or more precisely, well, the concept that those bonds got ruptured. Could also refer to Basira-without-Daisy, though she seemed to be doing more or less fine…? I’m not sure we’ll get to Hill Top Road directly, this episode might be a “regular” domain before it is reached; the title could work well for a Lonely or Vast domain? And Jon’s current, uh, state of mind…?

#~now formated~#the magnus archives #tma season 5 #mag194 #tma liveblog #tma spoilers #long post/

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