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ooihcnoiwlerh · 11 months

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I Wrote Another Thing!

For people who follow Some Things Are Meant to Be on AO3 first of all, I am so, so sorry for how slowly I've been updating. Life has hit me pretty hard and on top of that I have writer's block on how I want to continue the main story.

Second, I have been working on a companion piece that is a prequel written from both Elvis and the reader's perspectives as they navigate the lives they lead before they finally meet in early 1973. The first chapter is up on AO3 now and I can link it here:

Before You - ooihcnoiwlerh - Elvis (Movie 2022) [Archive of Our Own]

I've also fallen into the rabbit hole of Pinterest boards and have made one for the first chapter that I'll link here: (1) Pinterest.

For those who want sneak preview, I'll post tidbits below the cut:

People like to say that you're too big for your britches. People see a scrappy kid in her sister's secondhand hand-me-downs and think it's sometimes cute and funny, sometimes exasperating how stubborn and competitive you can be. It gets you in trouble early on; grown ups and other kids alike quick to remind you of your place.

You never listen for long.

You have a few early memories of your mother taking you into work with her a couple of times a week because you’re too young for school like your older siblings and she tells you to not bother anyone or cause a scene while she rolls out and laminates dough and makes and pipes filling.

You don’t bother anyone or cause a scene as far as you’re concerned, but you quickly lose interest in seeing your mother at work and wander off briefly which results in a thorough spanking. You don’t get why it’s so wrong for you to want to see new places or leave your little bubble, especially when no one seems to have time for you anyway.

All things considered, it could be worse. The two-bedroom, one-bathroom row house with paper thin walls, warped floors, and occasional faulty wiring is better than no home at all and your parents know how to shop and cook economically enough to make a grocery budget stretched to its limit feel like plenty. It’s also not like the kids at your school have it much better and can mock you for being poor when a good chunk of them are too. While you doubt you’ll ever develop the same love for cooking as your parents, you do like being “the little helper” in the kitchen when your siblings outgrow that title (even if your mother has more than one use for a wooden spoon that can put the fear of God in you if you cross her.) A few of your classmates and neighborhood kids make fun of you but you still make at least a few friends. And while they find you annoying, your older siblings still love you, even if that love sometimes feels like that baffled fondness one feels for a yappy terrier trying to sidle up to a Rottweiler.

And for nearly as long as you can remember you love movies and big billboards with people whose names you’ve never heard splashed across them. You coax whichever older sibling is most likely to give in to take you to all the movies and disappear, for the brief time you’re watching the screen. You’re not little Y/F/N Y/L/N, the tagalong youngest of four with nothing to your name and no one to listen to you; you’re whoever you want to be, sharing in the adventures you see in each movie. And someday you’ll be in those movies, and be that person for another lonely and frustrated child who wants to escape.

At first you decide you want to be an actress. After all, for a child there’s little else you really understand that goes into making a movie.

“That’s what I’m gonna do,” you announce to your parents and of course they think you're being ridiculous. They also can't afford to fund your little fantasy even if they wanted to.

But there are school plays and musicals you try out for and get into. You find that you have a perfectly fine singing voice and an aptitude for matching pitch. It doesn't take you too long to learn choreography or lines.

It's fun, and you get the impression that you have some moderate talent for it.

But you start to realize that you’re not amazing. You’re not sure why some part of you was hoping you’d be some kind of prodigy, but you’re definitely not. And that’s fine; it’s been said that success is one percent inspiration and ninety-nine percent perspiration, but you also don’t love it. You don’t feel the same thrill that you hear real actors do onstage. You don’t transform into your character or become this larger-than-life persona like the stars and starlets you see onscreen. You’re still little Y/F/N Y/L/N, just in grease paint and a costume giving a “solid, even charming” performance.

Funny thing, you don’t then lose interest or decide that show business isn’t for you, after all when you come to that realization. You just wonder what it is you should be doing if not acting.

You’re not that interested in lighting or set building. The technical aspects of filmmaking interest you to some extent, but what fascinates you is how it all comes together.

"Maybe directing, then?” a friend who still humors you tells you after rehearsal and before you have to go home.

“Maybe.” The next time you go to the movies, you pay attention to the credits and all the different job titles. You’ve matured enough to understand a lot more goes into making a movie than the people onscreen and so mentally pick through and notice “A Cecil B. DeMille Production” and “Produced and Directed by Cecil B. DeMille.”

What does a producer do, exactly? you wonder, and after a bit of digging you find out. A producer oversees the entire picture as a whole and promotes it so that audiences actually come to see it. They're the ones pushing them during awards season. And that…sounds perfect. You help bring the entire thing together, as it were, and you realize that was what you wanted all along.

"I think you stand a better shot at being an actress," people tell you when you explain your new career plans.

It's a man's world, of course. And men entirely different from any that you've met. And yet, somehow, it never really occurs to you that your dreams are impossible.

You never stop believing that you'll be able to do anything you put your mind to. At times that belief is all you really have.

...........................

Everything changes again one night right when Elvis is twenty, when they get the chance to perform for KWKH station’s Louisiana Hayride.

It’s certainly the largest crowd they’ve played so far, the farthest they’ve ventured out. It’s the first time anyone’s going to record them live, and that’s the part that terrifies him the most. He pictures himself freezing, forgetting all the lyrics, and who knows, maybe simultaneously throwing up and pissing himself onstage before being booed into oblivion. Scotty and Bill try to talk him down. Dixie, sweet Dixie, who’s two years his junior and who he’s pretty sure he’s going to propose to after the end of her senior year, offers him a soda that he can’t drink because his stomach’s already foaming like it has rabies.

Twenty-six different states all listening in. It’s too much. He gets the sweats and the shakes performing in front of tiny crowds at clubs for almost zero money.

“What if I forget the words on live radio?” he asks.

He calms down enough, encircled by Scotty and Bill, by Dixie, by his parents, to steel his resolve once they’re called to the stage.

He’s still shaking like a leaf, feeling nauseous and sweaty as he barely registers Lorace Hogan’s words as he introduces himself and isn’t entirely sure what’s spilling out of his mouth as he tries to thank everyone and introduce the song and then…silence. Elvis can sense Bill and Scotty getting nervous behind him as he can’t quite get the sound out, as he freezes. A guy around his age in the audience calls him a fairy and tells him to get a haircut.

And while, for some reason, he was terrified of this very thing, the sudden noise is what spurs him on. It shocks him into clarity. That’s the worst of it, then: some stranger spouting nothing he hasn’t already heard before. He can just move on and do the song. He takes a deep breath, and he lets loose.

It’s a fun song; Elvis likes the bouncy rhythm of it and playful tone and finds it comfortable in his range. He thinks that he and the guys play it pretty well.

What he doesn’t expect is for the amount of girls and women in the audience to start screaming; it starts out as a few giving little shrieks, jumping in their seats, but then the number grows, and he’s not sure why.

At the instrumental break he turns to Bill and Scotty for some explanation and the answer is, “The wiggle! Them girls wanna see you wiggle! Move, man! More! Much more!”

Funny; he hadn’t been fully aware of the fact that he was wiggling. But these girls sure seem to like it. So he keeps moving, keeps feeling the music and lets it take over. The screams, the near-hysteria from the audience keep him going like they’re fuel and he’s a pink Cadillac and for a couple of minutes he’s never felt more powerful. As one final gesture he reaches out into the audience, and they nearly pull him off the stage, tearing his jacket off of him.

And he leaves the stage, stunned, like he’s just had an out of body experience.

That was real. That was all real; the show, and the audience’s reaction to it. To him. To some extent he’d known that the audiences enjoyed him, that for the last few years anyway that some girls liked him, but he’s never felt their reaction so deeply before.

He knows, in this moment, he’ll never be the same.

.........................

Elvis promises both Mama and Dixie that he hasn’t gotten to any foolin around on the road and so far he’s managed to keep his promise. It’s not easy, granted. A lot of pretty girls would love to be in his hotel room where he stays, alone. It’s funny; while he started dating back in high school, he’s never felt so deeply wanted until now.

It’s an intoxicating feeling, like one night when he was younger and tried drinking peach brandy. So at first he reminds himself of the morning after trying the peach brandy when he spent the majority of it throwing up and swearing to God above that he’d never touch the stuff again. He flirts with the audience, tries to hide how flustered he feels to see so many girls throw their unmentionables onstage when he performs, and stops there.

It comes to a head, albeit not literally, when a woman his age, perhaps a little older, invites herself into his hotel room without a word. He recognizes her from earlier, when she’d asked for his autograph after the concert. She’d said her name was Natalie and he’d noticed even then the raw sex appeal she’d exuded, how she’d seemed interested in him but not in the breathless, star-struck way the other girls were. More like he was a fun new toy she wanted to play with. It had thrown him off guard but he’d almost been able to forget, until now.

His resistance has been falling each night. He knows that he could easily ask this woman to leave. Instead he turns his head to watch her sashay past him. He takes in the sight of her supple curves shown off to almost dizzying effect in her tight little dress and she smirks over her shoulder, aware of how he's watching her as she drops her purse on the edge of the bed. One that Elvis had been getting ready to retire to; he’s taken his shoes and socks off and had been working on his shirt before opening the door. He stares, dumbfounded at her confidence and the way this woman’s skirt hugs her hips and backside.

He knows that he's on the verge of something new once more, that if he keeps going there's no returning to who he was before.

He shuts the door and turns to face her. His heart pounds, he feels flushed and hot, his nerves on fire.

He could easily ask her to leave. He should. He should tell her that there’s some misunderstanding, that he’s flattered but he has a girl back home who’d be crushed if he fooled around with someone else. He wouldn’t have to tell this woman that he’s never actually fooled around with his girlfriend, either.

“I haven’t done as much as you probably think,” he says instead.

......................

Ma sent you and your brother out for one last errand before the shops shut and you glance past the TVs in the home appliances store. Your family may have moved into a nicer rowhouse with an extra bedroom and bathroom, but a television set is not a luxury your parents see any reason to throw away money on.

You’re glad, then, that you’ve been sent out this particular night because the image you see stops you dead in your tracks.

You know who this man is–you’ve heard his voice on the radio recently, the deep crooning and vivacious mix of rhythm and blues with country. You’ve seen pictures that left you stunned at his combination of masculinity and almost ethereal beauty. But you’ve never seen actual footage of him moving until now.

Fully dressed and before an audience he moves with untamed energy, rocking his hips in a way that just looks so primal that you can hardly believe it’s real.

It feels like you shouldn’t be allowed to see this. Technically, he’s not doing anything wrong; it’s not like his thing is actually out for you to look at. It’s not like he’s actually–well–you blush, watching as his hips go between undulating like the rolling tide and bouncing frenetically. You let out an involuntary gasp, face flushing.

While your eyes travel everywhere, noting his pretty face and plush lips, his long hair, you keep looking at, well, the area in between his legs you know is forbidden until marriage. The part of him that you have only the vaguest knowledge of and have been told is meant for making babies only, just like your flower that's been bleeding every month for two years now. You know the mechanics, and think about them sometimes with a detached sort of curiosity but no particular real desire.

In between your own legs you throb, feeling hot. You can't move, can't look away. You've never seen anything quite like this. Never felt quite like this or so deeply. Once again you forget how long you’re standing there and staring at the vision before you.

“Y/N, what’re you looking at? We need to–” your brother sees the monitor, looks at you, and rolls his eyes as he shakes his head. “Oh, for–you can drool over that guy later. Come on."

You immediately bristle, ashamed and almost afraid. Is it really so obvious that you were thinking such indecent thoughts?

"Oh, screw you!" you tell him, flushed now from embarrassment.

Your brother feigns an offended gasp. "She's cursing now! What next?" He reaches for your arm to tug you away and you pull away.

“I’m not a child!” you tell him, and he rolls his eyes.

"Remember this conversation in four years. Now come on."

Your brother doesn't bring it up later. He could easily tease you about it in front of your sister and parents and a few years ago probably would've. You're grateful; since you're the youngest and the only one who hasn't dated at all yet, and your parents hate the mere suggestion of that changing anytime soon. But they also want you to get married. If you had the gall to sass them, you’d ask if they knew you’d have to eventually date to marry.

That night you lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking about what you saw.

You feel wet, but not like you're about to pee. You squirm as you think about how you’ve heard whispers of people taking care of their…urges…alone. And you keep thinking about it as you desperately want something to rock against, to rub against the ache between your legs.

You can't. You mustn't. You shouldn't.

Although if your sister wasn't sleeping just a few feet away, you probably would at least try, even if you wouldn’t have any clue what you’re doing.

You give a small whine through closed lips and throw yourself onto your side, flopping around in bed like a fish out of water.

You groan, embarrassed, and after a moment fish out the magazine you’ve kept hidden under a book in your nightstand along with your flashlight. You silently apologize to your older sister as you pull the covers up and turn on the flashlight. You catalog everything you see, every detail.

You wonder what he looks like under those baggy suits. You know enough of the basics of a man's anatomy but wonder, still. He's slender but not too thin. Would his…his thing match that or be thick like a…a Coke can? Is that even possible? You've heard that he's six feet tall. Would that mean he'd be long? You're not sure what "long" would even look like. You haven't been so bold as to ask your sister (who you know for a fact has gone all the way already with her fiance and that's part of why they're engaged now) nor any of her friends. Right now you wish you had, so you have a better frame of reference. You wonder how it would feel nestled within you.

You've never even been kissed and already you're thinking about far more than that. It's safe to imagine, though, that he's a wonderful kisser. With those soft-looking full lips he can probably do a lot; you're not sure exactly what, but your body seems to understand things your brain hasn't learned yet.

You end up falling asleep with your flashlight in your hand and the magazine pressed against your cheek.

.......................................

The Colonel asks him what he’s going to sing tonight.

“I’ve made no decision,” Elvis says, not in any particular mood to pretend that he’s happy with the Colonel right now. “I’ll feel it.”

The cop smirks and cheerfully tells him it will all go fine, “just so long as you don’t wiggle a finger!”

And that does it. Something snaps within him, even as he sits still and quiet, face still impassive as he gazes out the window at the massive crowd that’s formed. A crowd of people who are there for him because they responded to who he actually is, not the neutered parody of himself that Steve Allen and the Colonel have been trotting him out as.

I’m here for them, not for any of the people who want to hold me back.

As he’s being announced, as he and his guys start to ascend the stage, the Colonel grabs Elvis’s arm.

“All you gotta do is sing the nice song, smile the nice smile, no wiggling, and then we can get back to show business! And have fun, my boy! Fun!” he says, either not noticing or not caring about the coiled tension in Elvis’s body, the way Elvis doesn’t respond. A little over two years ago Elvis thought the Colonel had all the answers to questions he never even thought to ask. He thought the Colonel understood him better than anyone else in show business possibly could. Right now he’s not so sure.

What he is sure of is that something needs to change, and he’s going to be the one to do it.

Now.

He knows for a fact the cop who drove him here is in attendance, watching and seething as Elvis points one pinky in the air, and that knowledge makes him smirk. For a moment he feels like a prowling lion, ready for the attack.

“Trouble,” he instructs the band.

“I’m gonna show you what the real Elvis is like tonight!” he cries out to the audience.

‘Fuck you,’ he thinks, the moment the first chord hits.

‘Fuck you,’ he thinks, as he begins with, “If you’re lookin for trouble, you came to the right place.”

He won’t lie down, he won’t give in. He doesn’t give a shit that there’s a segregationist rally nearby and in fact he hopes he ruins the rally because fuck them, too. He doesn’t want their approval. Elvis gyrates and writhes and screams and doesn’t give a single flying fuck what trouble he’s really causing because for the first time in months he truly feels alive.

#elvis 2022 #austin!elvis x reader #austin!elvis fanfiction #austin!elvis smut #elvis presley #elvis movie

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gringolet · 4 years

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INTRO TO ARTHURIANA MASTERPOST

under the cut for absurd length

HOW TO GET STARTED WITH ARTHURIANA

The Arthuriana fandom is very broad and there's no one piece of media, which can be confusing for people just getting into it! There’s no right way to engage with arthuriana, and no minimum level of knowledge or reading you need to attain to qualify.

The basis of the Arthurian Legend is a body of hundreds of texts written across the medieval and early Renaissance period in dozens of languages and cultural traditions. Which can seem pretty overwhelming, but there are a lot of modern vernacular translations-- you absolutely don’t have to learn old French or anything. I’ll go more in depth on where to get started with texts further down.

You also don’t have to read texts at all. As I said, there is no minimum basis-- if you prefer to engage with modern adaptations, or want to engage with medieval arthuriana outside of reading texts, that's also cool!

In terms of modern adaptations there is a wealth of choices, which I am very much not an expert in lol, so I’m afraid I can’t give much in the way of reccs. Books I have heard good things about are, Exiled from Camelot, Idylls of the Queen, The Buried Giant, the Squire's Tale series, and Gawain by Gwen Rowley (warning that this one is apparently erotica? Good for him). I trust @princesslibs for modern book reccomendations. and if you speak French Kaamelott is purportedly a very good tv show. Frankly no modern adaptation will ever be better than Spamalot to me, but that's just my personal take.

If you are curious about engaging with texts but (understandably) don’t want to read a ton of dense medieval literature, one really cool resource is Norris J Lacy's New Arthurian Encyclopedia, which you can pick up at most used bookstores for under ten bucks. It’s a very thorough easy to look through reference of characters stories and texts. I know a lot of people like the Nightbringer wiki, though I personally am wary of it because it basically never cites sources. It’s a good quick reference though and a lot of people like it, I’d just take it with a grain of salt. Sparknotes also has a lot of summaries of the major texts like Le Morte D’Arthur and the romances of Chrétien De Troyes. You are not a fake fan for doing this I promise. And of course you’re always welcome to send me an ask <3

Finally, getting started with texts. Quick glossary of terms:

--Verse Romance

A verse (poem) story which can vary a great deal in length. These deal with the adventures of individual knights, usually Gawain, and tend to have a great deal of magical elements and the stereotypical monster slaying, questing, damosel rescuing knight adventures.

--Prose Novel or Romance

A non poetic narrative, more like a modern novel, more likely to deal with the fall of Arthur, sword in the stone, Mordred, fall of Camelot sort of affair. They are usually quite long. Most famous of these are Le Morte D’Arthur and the French Vulgate, but there are a slew of late medieval Prose novels floating around. Eluding Rey.

--Pseudohistory

I’m gonna b real these are boring I think. These are, as the name suggests, written as accurate depictions of history. They very much are not, but they claim to be. Most famous of these is Jeffrey of Monmouth, Mr Jeff Mouth himself, and his History of the Kings of Britain, which I haven’t read because it bores me. You can if you want. It’s in Latin. Whatever. These tend to be some of the earliest texts, and include the “lives of saints” stories. Life of Gildas is the only funny one.

--Ballads

These are only arguably texts, as most of them were written after the time of the “canon” being composed. But I like them. These are songs telling stories, recorded by people like Francis Child and Thomas Percy. They are very short and fun and include stories like The Boy and the Mantle, Kempion, and King Arthur and the King of Cornwall.

--Lai

A specific type of French verse poem, usually quite short. The most famous collection of lais are those of Marie le France, including things like Bisclavret and Lanval.

--Traditions

Since Arthuriana was written all over, there are different literary traditions across time and space. The French tradition is one of the most famous, including works like the vulgate, Chretien and a lot of verse romances. The English tradition is one of the most influential on modern adaptations, including the Morte D’Arthur and Sir Gawain and the Green Knight. There are also Welsh, German, Dutch, Hebrew, Italian, Spanish, Portuguese, Tagalog, Greek, Belarussian, Scottish, Irish, Breton, and probably even more. There’s a lot. It’s very cool and sexy.

A note that there is also a big tradition of Victorian revival Arthuriana. I wrote a starter guide to that here, it’s all very fun and like, aesthetic.

Alright, now, which texts do you start with?

If you’re a little intimidated by long texts or medieval lit, starting with short verse romances in modern translation is a great place to start. These include Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, which is very good and gay and well known, Lancelot and the Hart With The White Foot, which is very good and gay and underappreciated, or Lanval, which is homophobic but funny.

If you want to start with what is considered the oldest King Arthur Story, Culwch and Olwen is short and fun!

If you want to read about the grail quest, you can start where it started with Story of the Grail or Percival, then the four continuations, Essenbachs Parzival, the vulgate version of the Grail quest which you can buy paperback for like 5 bucks (I can also scan my copy for you just shoot me an ask <3)

If you want to read about the fall of camelot, I have the Vulgate death of Arthur section scanned here. There’s also the Alliterative and Stanzaic mortes, which are in middle English. I have scanned Simon Armitage's Alliterative Morte translation here. I’m working on my own translation of the Stanzaic but it’s not done lol. If you want the first third or so DM me lol. King Artus is very short and readable and it’s a Jewish text which is really cool.

If you want to read about Lancelot, Chrétien de Troyes Lancelot is his first text. He also has a whole long vulgate section, the first part is scanned here by val <3, and there's Lanzelet, Sebile is in it so it’s probably very good. He’s also basically the main character of Le Morte D’Arthur which I might as well talk about here uhm. It’s long and fun in places and boring in others but it does have like the version most modern adaptations take from and tells the whole story of Arthur and Camelot from beginning to end. The Keith Baines version scanned by val is the most readable but it is an abridgement I believe. people who like le morte usually read this version so its probably the best choice lol

If you want to read about Gawain, good news! He’s in basically everything. Even texts that aren’t supposed to be about Gawain are doomed to become The Gawain Show Featuring The Protagonist Of This Text As A Sidekick. Which is so funny of him. The Roman Van Walewein is very funny and long and Gawain™. I also recommend, L’atre Perilous, Diu Krone, Sir Gawain and the Turk, and I could go on but for brevity's sake let's start there.

If you want to read about Tristan, go shoot an ask to Valentine @lanzelet on tumblr because Tristan scares me.

Thank you to rey @gawain-in-green for helping me find links and put this together! They are also a super great resource for stuff and very cool and nice <3 They have a tag on their blog for full text resources so deffo look at that if you want more scans and links, and an info tag and tons of cool shit that is way better organized than my blog lol

Okay finishing this off, if you want content warnings for any texts, feel free to shoot an ask! I know medieval lit can be A Lot and there aren’t a lot of good warning systems, so if I’ve read it or know someone who has I can give you warnings if you want to read something but are understandably wary . <3

In terms of tagging, Arthuriana and Arthurian Legend are the main ones on tumblr. Arthurian Mythology is also used but tbh shouldn’t be. On Ao3, we’re trying to get our own Arthurian Literature tag but <3 its a whole thing. Anyway the tag is Arthurian Mythology, but I’ll b real, it’s kind of flooded with stuff that doesn’t really belong there, because even though it’s a fandom tag other people unknowingly tag stuff as Arthurian Mythology when it’s like, a knight au. Which is not their fault bc it’s confusing but, ah, alas. ANyhow, feel free to drop in my inbox anytime with questions, suggestions, reccs, etc!

Okay godspeed!! Have fun reading, watching, browsing, etc!

#arthuriana #arthurian legend #arthurian literature #arthurian mythology #:/

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leafcabbage · 3 years

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hi! idk if you've talked about this before (sorry if you have) but do you have any advice for doing medical research? I'm creating a character who has a prosthetic and I myself do not, and I know you are quite proficient at medical research! So yea, I was just hoping for some advice for how to research so that I can at least be more thorough

hi! i havent talked about this i dont think (and im always happy to answer questions twice if i have)

im using epilepsy research for my explanation rather than TBI. ultimately i had to go back and forth and try to figure out the effects on each other, but i think one is enough to talk about :]

start with the basics. even if you think you know the basics, start with the basics. my research began on epilepsy.com, thats the basic information about what types of seizures there are and what they look like, etc. i looked at youtube info videos and other sites like that. i figured out what seizures ranboo was going to have, and then specifically looked for information on those.

for me it was following what questions everything i learned brought up. like "okay, tonic clonic seizures look like this, but what do they feel like? what comes after?" and following that question. i really enjoy researching this stuff so that came easily to me.

you want to consider how your character came to need a prosthetic, is it new for them or is it the usual, are there other impacts from whatever left them needing the prosthetic, etc. and keep in mind that it exists even when you arent talking about it. (different topic, but tubbo has hearing aids. i dont talk about them a ton in the fic because he's had them for 11 years and its not something he thinks about all the time, but i do think about them while writing him, where him being partially deaf might have an impact, etc, etc.)

reddit is your friend, which feels like a funny thing to say. but people share their experiences on there, and sometimes youll even find that other writers have posted asking people in the communities about their experiences. i have multiple reddit threads bookmarked because its where i learned what living with epilepsy was actually like. i went to some other site's forums as well, but you absolutely need to look at how it impacts people's lives on a personal level. (literally just google a question about your research and add "reddit" at the end of the search)

ive moved on to some more complicated topics in my research that i cant super get into yet without spoiling some stuff, but im at a point where what im researching is all in medical papers and i cant find answers to some of my questions, and the way i will deal with that is being honest with my audience and saying that ive done the best i can. so if you dont know everything about something and you're writing it, unless you're a published author, i think its ok to be honest about those things. that said, i am still trying and it's still worth trying. i do have an understanding of the condition but casually perusing medical papers has become a pastime to try to feel more confident.

im also gonna give you my advice i have for anyone writing an experience you dont have: that is someone's life. what you are writing is what someone else is living, just keep that in mind.

i hope this helped, let me know if i can give you any more advice!!!!

#cabbage writing corner #cabbage answers #anon

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jennyeverywhereday · 3 years

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The Disappearance of Jenny Everywhere

Here is a story written by Lupan Evezan featuring all sorts of characters.

The Disappearance of Jenny Everywhere

Pulling her scarlet overcoat tightly around her, Jenny Anywhere leapt towards her foe. The villain dodged, darting around her, and reached for a weapon - but Anywhere was faster. In an instant, she had grasped her opponent by the collar and thrust her down onto the damp stone floor of the castle.

Her foe struggled, then tried to shift away, only to be pulled back by Anywhere's opposing force. Removing a length of chain from her pocket, the red-clad heroine fastened her to a wall.

"Where... is... she?" Anywhere hissed, staring into the profoundly evil eyes of Jenny Nowhere. "Answer me, or this shift-proof chain stays in place for the rest of eternity."

Nowhere looked confused. "What are you prattling on about, knockoff? I can't speak for my other incarnations, but I haven't

kidnapped any sacrificial maidens in, oh, months now."

"You know exactly what I'm talking about." Anywhere snarled. "She's gone - all of her - and you're the only shifter twisted enough to pull something like that off. One of you, anyway, and this incarnation works as well as any other for interrogation purposes."

Realisation dawned on Nowhere's face. "Oh, that! Well, of course I've noticed, copycat, but you can't possibly think - look, if I was capable

of something like that, I'd already be ruling this slice of perceivable omnireality. Come now."

"Funny - for some reason, I just don't believe you."

Turning towards the table in the corner of Nowhere's hideout, Anywhere picked up the weapon that her foe had reached for earlier - some sort of aether-bladed dagger. She angled it towards the captive Nowhere.

"Look, I don't want to hurt you - which is why you'd better start talking. Tell me what you've done with her."

"Tsk, tsk." Nowhere clucked. "Would she approve of all of this? I'm impressed, mind - it must have taken you ages to find these chains. But I'm afraid all of your effort has come to naught, because I'm just as baffled as you are. Whether you believe me or not, it's the truth."

Anywhere kept her grip on the dagger - but something in Nowhere's words seemed genuine, beneath the mocking tone. It could be a trick - was almost certainly a trick. But she'd never heard the anti-shifter sound so sincere.

"Fine. Give me a reason to believe you, then. Or - to reiterate - I leave you tied up here. Forever. If you ever want to leave this room again - let alone this universe..."

"A reason?" Nowhere asked. "Fine. Simple: I would never do something like this."

Anywhere snorted incredulously. Nowhere shrugged.

"Yes, I suppose it is a bit hard to reconcile. But it's the truth, completely. I may hate her, yes. I may want to see her destroyed, defeated, foiled at every turn. But wiped completely from the multiverse?" The captive villain blew a strand of hair from her eyes before continuing. "I am Nowhere. What significance can that concept hold without its opposite? What would my purpose be, if she were truly gone? Individual incarnations, certainly - but I would never truly want all of her eradicated. I really wouldn't."

"But she is." "She is." Nowhere acknowledged. She sighed. "And I really, truly don't know why."

Anywhere stared at her captive - something in her eyes, while still evil, seemed genuinely sad. She bit her lip, thinking.

"Fine. I'll believe you. Provisionally." "You'll let me go, then?" Nowhere asked. "Not yet. But I'll be back." Anywhere turned her back to her foe. "And she'll be with me." "I'll hold you to that, wannabe." came Nowhere's voice from behind. "Give her my worst regards." "Count on it." With a flash, Anywhere shifted away.

She rematerialised in a rain-soaked city and sat down on a nearby bench. The local incarnation of Jenny lived nearby, and they would often meet at this corner, guided by the intuition that the other was waiting. She stayed put for many minutes, hoping against hope that she'd show up - but she didn't. Of course she didn't.

Anywhere sighed, resting her head in her hands. There was no denying it. She was gone. Every single one of her, across every reality.

Jenny Everywhere had disappeared. And Anywhere had no idea what the multiverse was going to do without her.

****

Tying her frizzy orange hair into a bun, Laura Drake got to work.

Jenny was gone. Jenny - her best friend. Her only friend, really. Jenny, who had defended her from bullies in grade school, who had helped her secure her current position with one of the world's leading scientific innovators, who had once fought off a demon for her (well, they couldn't all be normal life events - this was Jenny, after all).

Laura still remembered the first time she'd learned about Jenny's powers - how could she forget? That was a memory that would stick with her for the rest of her life, she was sure. She'd walked into her best friend's bedroom just in time to see her vanishing from reality. That had been an interesting discussion.

It had, obviously, been a fairly shocking thing to witness - but she'd gotten more or less used to it eventually, after seeing it happen so many times. Up until the very last shift, which Jenny still hadn't returned from. That had been almost as shocking.

Of course, Jenny had disappeared for long stretches plenty of times in the past. But she'd always let Laura know that she'd be away, without any exceptions. Leaving without a warning, Laura was sure, could only be a sign of something very bad. And she absolutely was not going to let something very bad happen to Jenny.

Stepping back, she admired her handiwork. Not bad for something whipped up so quickly - the fact that she'd used... borrowed technology from work had helped on that front (and if the Altern Corporation didn't like it, tough luck). But looks weren't everything. Would it work? That was the real question. There was only one way to find out.

Taking a deep breath, she connected the power supply. With a crack, reality seemed to stretch before her eyes before snapping back into a bright blue vortex that hung within the frame that she'd created.

So far, so good.

Glancing nervously about her workspace, she donned her protective gear - which she really should have been wearing all along, but it had slipped her mind. Steadying herself, she strode forward.

This is fine. It's all fine. It's all going to go perfectly without a hitch. No chance for accidents here. I'll just be in and out. Find Jenny, come back - nothing to it. Easy as pie.

She stood before the portal. The mental reassurances weren't helping much - this was still undoubtedly very frightening. Jenny had taken her on a few trips to other worlds before, and even that had been nerve racking - but it certainly didn't compare to diving off into the unknown without anyone to guide her.

But Jenny was gone. And she was going to find her.

Taking another breath, she stepped into the crackling rift. ****

With a shout, Jenny Anywhere leapt into the gaping maw of a serpentine abomination. Darting swiftly past the outstretched fangs that dripped with sickly-green venom, she plunged onward towards the back of the throat and landed a pulverising kick to its uvula. The creature retched, then careened into a nearby mountainside as Anywhere jumped out between its teeth and skidded to a stop on the ground below.

The thing unleashed a strangled roar, its snake-eyes locking on to to its pink-haired foe. Anywhere crossed her arms.

"Had enough yet, beast?" she yelled up at it. "Ready to tell me where she is?"

The creature choked again, then spat a drizzle of venom droplets. Anywhere dodged, watching as the spray burned away the undergrowth.

"Well?"

"I have already told you!" the monster hissed, rising painfully from the mountain where it had landed. "That I have no idea where your friend is - and I certainly didn't eat her! Now, don't mistake me - I absolutely would have, had she been through this way. But - and this bit is crucial - I have never so much as laid eyes on her! I promise! Please don't kick me again!"

As Anywhere considered the creature's words, someone cleared their throat behind her. She turned to see her travelling companion, the shifter known as Hakhe. The two had run into each other shortly following Anywhere's interrogation of Nowhere, and had decided to continue their search together.

"While I understand and appreciate the thoroughness and... ruthlessness of this investigation - " Hakhe began, in Thai, "in an infinite multiverse, I think it might be best to limit our interrogations to those who have actually heard of her."

Anywhere crossed her arms. "I know, I know - but we've pretty much exhausted every twisted villain and horrible monster that she's ever told me about, so I just figured..."

Hakhe nodded. "You're right. But maybe this isn't the best way to go about finding her at all. We could be at it for the rest of our lives, at this rate, and still be no closer to finding any answers."

"I guess you're right." Anywhere sighed. "I just don't know what to do. This is all completely wrong. One incarnation might go missing, or even a few hundred - but all of them? Every single incarnation of Jenny Everywhere, in every single universe - all vanishing at once? It just... isn't supposed to happen."

"But it did. As far as either of us can tell, anyway. And to address a possibly-unprecedented problem, I think we're going to need an unprecedented solution. Or something close to that." Hakhe adjusted her red scarf, the garment that she held in common with their missing friend. "And I think I might have an idea."

"Oh? Do tell!" "Did Jenny ever mention something called 'the Infinite' to you?" Hakhe asked. "Oh, yeah - the bridge-reality that only she can shift to. But what does that - ?"

"Well..." Hakhe mused. "She once told me that there are a few incarnations who stay there full-time, to make sure the dimension is functioning properly. And if only she can get in - well, maybe whatever made the rest of her disappear couldn't affect those Jennys."

"Of course! And they might know what happened to the rest of them!" Anywhere exclaimed. "But, er - we can't get in, either."

"Maybe not - but I think I know someone who might be able to."

"Another person? I don't mind working with you, Hakhe, but I'm really not much for teams."

"I know - but this could be our only chance." Hakhe reminded.

"Oh, alright. Let's go, then."

With a nod, Hakhe refracted reality around her and jumped into one of the dispersive universes. Anywhere followed. The serpentine abomination slithered off to get some bed-rest.

****

Laura Drake spiralled through an interminable vortex of space and time, passing through the membranes of the universes. She tumbled past alternate timelines, parallel dimensions, pocket realms - each of them completely Jenny-less. She could sense it.

But Jenny had to be somewhere. She had to.

As Laura fell, she tried to cast her mind out into the muddle of realities - to search for some echo of her friend. Jenny. Jenny Everywhere. The Shifter. Goggles. Scarf. Flower pin in her hair. Come on, come on... where is she?

Laura wasn't sure if she'd be able to leave the vortex even if she did spot a sign of Jenny - and she certainly didn't know how she was going to get home. But that was a worry for later. For now, she just needed to find her.

Scenes from across existence played out before her as she drifted by - a tranquil rainforest, a war-torn dystopia, a world made entirely of swiss cheese.

Come on, multiverse. If you can show me this stuff - show me Jenny. Please.

Something flickered, then changed. And Laura saw her.

She could tell, somehow, that what she was seeing wasn't happening 'live', so to speak. But the scenes had morphed into images of Jenny - of thousands of versions of Jenny, playing out events from prior to her disappearance.

Laura watched in awe as her vanished friend saved reality a hundred times over, vanquished evil again and again, explored countless worlds and embarked upon billions of adventures. There she was, fighting off villains - liberating entire planets - riding a dragon - taming a comet - flying with Amelia Earhart - doing anything and everything imaginable. Across the universes, there was one constant - one person who could defy any limits, who couldn't be held down by any artificially-imposed constrictions. A person who could take on any mission, any story, any challenge that arose. A shifter. The Shifter.

A person that the multiverse absolutely needed to have around. And I can find her, Laura told the multiverse, If you'll just show me how.

There was another flicker. Something buzzed, and then - a portal opened in the vortex-tunnel before her.

Bracing herself, she dove in.

****

On the bridge of the starship Wilson, a blond-haired man in a purple uniform prepared the computers for an unprecedented jump.

"Michael, pardon the interruption - " one of his companions began, raising a finger as the blond-haired man finished hooking an unspeakable number of back-up generators to the main server.

"What is it, Ill? I'm busy."

"Actually, I've been going by 'Lit' recently - er, but that's hardly the point. I just... feel the need to reiterate the point that trying to 'brute-force' reality-shifting like this is liable to destroy the entire ship."

Michael shrugged.

"Yeah, that's why I left the crew over on that moonbase."

"Yes, and I have chosen to remain with you in the hopes of shielding you from a similar fate - but such an intervention would be completely unnecessary if you would - "

"Look, I'm sorry, but Jenny is missing. The synchs aren't telling me where she is - so I'm going to look for myself. The Infinite seems like a good place to check, and I can't get there on my own, so - "

Michael gestured to the mess of equipment that he had connected to the Wilson. The Abstract of Illumination, embodiment of the concept of light, sighed.

"So you've decided to connect yourself, a cache of Jenny's genetic makeup, and a ludicrous amount of power to the ship's computers, make the jump, and hope for the best?"

"Now you're getting it!"

As if to prove the specifics of his scheme, Michael connected a wire to the bulky headset that he had fastened to his forehead. The ship's terminal blinked in seeming confusion at the new input. The Abstract pinched the bridge of his nose, exasperated.

"Have you considered that this might be a trap rigged by Chaos or one of his ilk?"

"Sure I have - but this still seems like our best course of action. Without Jenny - well, without Jenny, all of existence is in Chaos's grasp already. We have to try to find her, no matter what it takes. Flip that switch for me, will you?"

The Abstract reluctantly flipped the indicated switch. Energy coursed into the server, causing it to hiss. Michael prepared for the shift.

"So... coming?" he asked, looking over his shoulder. "Not to late for you to go join the others." "Oh, I'm not worried about myself - it's you who should give this a good mulling-over." "Done! Let's get going, then!" The Abstract rubbed his temples as Michael Wherever initiated the jump.

**** Somewhere in space, a dark force shifted.

It had been watching, lurking, spying on the crew of the Wilson as they made their preparations. It had heard it all - it knew of Jenny's plight.

Besides, it could feel it - the lack of the Shifter. They were connected, in some twisted way - the Shifter and the Fallen One. After all, it was not just one being, not one entity. No, it was the gestalt consciousness of thousands of the many monsters felled by the Shifter - held together by hatred and vengeance and the all-consuming power of Chaos that blanketed this universe. It hadn't had anything to do with the Shifter's disappearance - but it was certainly not averse to taking advantage of the situation. Far from it.

Jenny had destroyed it time and time again, ended a thousand of its lifetimes. Now it was her turn to feel that pain. She was out of the picture - she could no longer defend her allies.

It would pick them off one by one, consume them, and finally, finally have its revenge. Nearly chuckling to itself with a hundred mangled voices, the horrid amalgamation crept into the

proverbial shadows of the universe, ready to strike. ****

"So... let me get this straight: you want me to take you to the Infinite?"

"That's right!" Hakhe confirmed. Anywhere nodded.

"And... you think this is something I can do? Really, I'm asking - I have no idea."

"Well, all of the Jennys can get there, right?" Anywhere said. "And you're - well, you're not quite a Jenny, but you are a clone of her. Same DNA and whatnot. That's more than either of us can say."

Jenny Somewhere nodded.

"Yes, I suppose that's true - but it's not like we're connected or anything. I mean, all of the proper Jennys disappeared, right? But I'm still here. And even if I could get in - well, maybe you don't realise this, but I can't exactly aim. We'd probably end up in some kind of death dimension or something, instead."

"Well, yes, we do know that." Hakhe replied. "But we can, so we thought - maybe we could be your navigators, so to speak?"

"Oh. Well - I guess that might work. But - are you sure she'll be there?" "No... no, we're not." Anywhere admitted. "But it's the only real idea we've had. If - if she isn't

there, I don't know what - "

"Don't worry." Hakhe reassured her. "We'll find her. No matter what, we will find her."

"Well, I'd like to help, if I can." Somewhere told her new companions. "And I suppose it can't hurt to try. Probably. But my living room might not be the best jumping-off point. Let's go to the void

between the universes first - sometimes I have slightly better aim from there, to begin with, since it connects them all."

Somewhere held out her hands. Anywhere took one, Hakhe took the other, and they shifted. ****

They stood in the void, gazing into the surrounding nothingness.

Well, stood wasn't quite the right descriptor. Floated, was more like it.

"Only a short jump from here to the Infinite." Somewhere said. "Er, you know. Hopefully."

"Well, we're off to a good start." Hakhe noted.

"No time to waste - let's shift!" Anywhere put in.

The three shifters clasped hands again, preparing their most difficult reality-jump yet. Anywhere and Hakhe focused intensely. Somewhere summoned her strength.

They shifted.

The void melted away. The universes seemed to part. They fell, tumbling through an endless wormhole. They pushed onward - they glimpsed the Infinite - they touched the boundaries of the bridge-universe...

Then snapped back into the howling void.

"It... didn't work." Anywhere mumbled. Hakhe put a hand on her shoulder.

"Don't worry. We'll figure out some other way to - "

A tremendous rending sound cut her off as, beside them, something tore open in the nothingness. A woman with frizzy orange hair stumbled out.

They stared at her. She stared back. "Wait... Jenny?" she asked. Somewhere shook her head. "Not quite."

"But we are friends of hers!" Anywhere put in. "You're one of the Lauras, right?"

"One of the - ?" Laura shook her head. "No, that's not important. Yes, I'm Laura - you know Jenny, too? Do you know where she is?"

"No - we're looking for her, though." Anywhere replied. "And we think we might be on the right track. Er, how did you get here, by the way? That was some entrance."

"Oh, it was... quite a journey." Laura said, brushing residual ashes off of her protective gloves. "But that's not important, either - the right track to find Jenny, you said?"

"Well, hopefully." Anywhere answered. "We're following the best idea we've had, anyway."

"Well - can I help, then? I'll do anything to get Jenny back."

"Hmm..." Hakhe rubbed her chin. Her eyes lit up. "Actually, yes - I think you could. The three of us couldn't quite enough to make that jump work on our own - but it's my understanding is that the Lauras of the Multiverse tend to have a special connection with the various Jennys, unlike any other. So..."

"So adding her to our, er, biological navigation system here might actually increase our odds!" Anywhere exclaimed. "Great idea!"

Hakhe nodded, then held out a hand to Laura. She took it. "So - what is your plan, then? Where are you trying to go?"

"We'll explain on the way." Anywhere answered. "But I don't think we should waste any more time around here. The roving abominations are starting to look hungry."

The others nodded. Clasping hands, the four companions focused, then shifted with a bang. ****

They hadn't expected the Infinite to be so... infinite.

Physically, yes, they had been fairly sure that it would live up to its name. But it wasn't just the dimensions of the bridge-universe that were endless - it was everything. The very concept of the place seemed to encompass every possible experience, assimilated from every other reality. Standing there, the four world-travellers felt as if they were living a billion billion lives all at once. It was just a fragment of a feeling, of course - an echo of what it must have been like to be Jenny, when she tapped into the network of all of her infinite selves.

Despite everything, it wasn't overwhelming - it was exciting. The sheer possibility of every imaginable adventure seemed to dangle before them.

But they hadn't come for adventure. They had come to find their friend. And the Infinite, in addition to being unimaginably vast - was empty.

"She... she has to be here, right?" Anywhere sputtered. "Right? She has to be! How could... I mean - she has to!"

Anywhere ran off through the Infinite expanse, with Laura tagging closely behind. The others followed.

"Jenny!" Laura called, her words echoing back to her alongside the words of countless others throughout the multiverse. "Jenny?"

She stopped. "I... I don't think she's here." she mumbled. "I don't know why, it's just - it doesn't feel like she is."

Somewhere nodded. "Yeah, I can usually feel some kind of connection when she's nearby. But I'm not really getting anything here, unfortunately."

Anywhere shook her head. "She has to be here. She has to be."

"She's somewhere, even if this isn't the place. We'll keep looking." Laura declared. "I'm not giving up."

"Neither am I." Hakhe said. "But - "

Hakhe stopped, then squinted at a ripple in the distance. As she stared, it opened into a rift. A large space-vessel popped out with a crash, then skidded to a stop before them, its engines fried.

A hatch opened, and a blond man in a spacesuit fell out. A pale person with black hair followed him.

"See!" said the blond man. "See, I told you that would work!"

"If by 'worked', you mean 'blew out all of the ship's mechanisms and probably would have killed you if I hadn't invoked a favor from the Abstract of Life', then..."

"Hey, we're here, aren't we?" As the two new arrivals continued their bickering, Anywhere rushed over to their ship. "Hey! Are you here to find Jenny, too?" "Sure am!" "Do you have a scanner on that thing? Something you can use to see if she's - ?"

"Oh, yeah - we do! Nearly forgot about that." Michael ducked back into the ship as the others waited anxiously outside. "Hey, it still works! Now, let's see..." came Michael's voice. It fell silent again. "Well?" Anywhere called. "...no, I guess she's not here." he replied, before exiting the ship again, looking forlorn. Anywhere was silent for a moment. "...oh." The group of companions took another look around the Infinite. "So... she's really gone, then."

Hakhe placed a hand on Anywhere's shoulder. Michael exchanged a sad glance with the Abstract of Illumination. Laura wiped the tears from her eyes, as Somewhere removed her goggles and gazed at them wistfully. They stood together in the middle of all realities, wondering if they'd ever see their friend again.

****

A dismal fogbank rolled over the small seaside town to which the grieving party had relocated. Ordinarily a peaceful place, it had taken on a gloomy atmosphere this morning - which suited the moods of the six travelling companions well enough.

The town was one of Jenny's oldest haunts, home to some of her oldest friends. It had been the first place different incarnations of her had shown both Laura and Anywhere. It was familiar to all of them, and they had all decided that it was the best place from which to mourn.

They had held out hope that they might happen upon her here, unlikely though it would be. That they might find her at the coffee shop or down by the pier, getting into some kind of scrape. But they hadn't, of course.

So they sat, dejected, on a secluded beach. And they hoped that they might find her eventually.

As waves broke against the shore, the six companions stared out at the sea. There were still places that they could check, of course - but what were the odds of finding her within any reasonable span of time? In an infinite multiverse, they didn't look so good.

The waves continued to roll in - and so did the fog. It seemed to gather around them, growing darker and thicker with every passing second. It blotted out the sun, covering the sand in shadows.

And then it spoke. "companions of jenny everywhere..." it hissed in a thousand broken, sibilant voices. "mourn not

your missing friend. mourn only for your own pitiful lives - for WE have come to take our revenge."

The fog closed in, stitching itself together into a tower of shattered faces. A tendril formed.

"What... is this?" Laura asked.

"Not good. This is not good." Hakhe replied.

The Fallen One lashed out at the six companions, knocking Michael off his feet. A shockwave of pure hatred shoved Somewhere into a sand dune.

"W - what do we do?" Laura breathed.

Hakhe looked up at the thing, scared.

"I don't know. I... I don't know. If Jenny were here..."

"But she isn't." Laura said. "We're... completely on our own. The multiverse is on its own."

Hakhe nodded. The beast drew closer, howling mouths opening along its incorporeal form. Somewhere's scarf was sucked in and turned to grey ash.

Anywhere stared at the monster. Her eyes narrowed. She stood, leaping in front of it. "No!" "No?" Somewhere asked, rubbing sand off of her jacket. "no?" the nightmare-being hissed.

"No." Anywhere confirmed. "We may be on our own - but the multiverse isn't. Jenny may be gone, but we're not. We've all managed to break the rules of reality within the last day or so - I think we can stop this thing from wreaking its havoc. It's what she would want!"

"You're... you're right!" Hakhe shouted. "We're not going everything she's done go to waste!" "I'm certainly not!" Laura added. "Yeah, and besides, it's my duty as a clone!" Somewhere put in. "Er, probably." "Jenny's prepared us for this!" Michael nodded. "I assume!"

"I'll certainly not let such a creature of darkness blot out the light on my watch!" the Abstract of Illumination agreed.

"foolish creatures. total destruction is your only destiny."

The Fallen One rushed towards them in a roiling ball of energy. They rushed right back.

Anywhere leapt into the air, landing a pulverising kick to one of the monster's warped faces. It recoiled, hissing, before spotting Hakhe. Forming a pair of jaws, it leapt towards her - but she dissipated on contact. Behind, the real Hakhe collapsed her dimensional projection and struck the unsuspecting thing in an unguarded eye.

It fell to the ground under the combined force of the blows, only to find itself caught in the searing beam of a handheld weapon.

"I actually forgot that I had this with me." Laura explained, as the creature writhed. "It was supposed to be a gift for Jenny. For making toast quickly."

The beast broke free, rising into the air once more. Somewhere ran towards it, crossed her fingers, and reached into another universe. Pulling, she produced a sword.

"Huh. I was going for some kind of laser gun, but - eh, this is cool."

She dealt the beast another blow, and it shrieked, letting loose another shockwave. As its opponents recovered, Michael appeared behind it in a puff of purple smoke and whacked it with a large plank that he'd found on the shore.

"Teleportation!" he called. "Whaddya think of that, Lit?"

The Abstract of Illumination smiled, then undid the collar that he wore around his neck. His full powers unleashed, he directed a beam of undiluted light towards the creature.

It collapsed again, and all six combatants rushed it. The struggle raged on, kicking up sandstorms and causing the sea to churn. The monster fell, rose, and fell again. It lashed out, screamed, then seemed to fall silent for a final time.

The companions gathered around it. "Is it - ?" Laura began. She was quickly cut off.

"foolish... things..." it hissed. "you have defeated but one form. but WE... are hate. WE... have thousandssss."

The clouds swirled as more twisted forms flowed into the universe, joining the creature on the ground. It rose again, becoming a tentacled hydra.

"We can't give up." Anywhere decared, stumbling forward. The thing snapped its jaws, ready to strike.

Something flickered in the sky above. A flash of red cut through the darkness, and the Fallen One recoiled.

"no... no. it is... impossible!"

The burst of red became a solid form - a human. A scarf flowed behind the figure - a pair of goggles glinted on its forehead.

Jenny Everywhere leapt into the Fallen One. With a final scream, it shrunk away and was gone. The Shifter landed on the beach and dusted off her parka. Everyone stared, disbelieving. She waved. "Oh, hi! Er... what did I miss?"

****

"So, well, what with existing everywhere all the time - sometimes I have to... rejuvenate, you know? Not absolutely every one of me - but enough that you might not be able to find me. Enough of the shifter-network gets worn out, and we automatically zap off to some secret realm beyond time for a week or so. And I... honestly don't know what happens there. Some elements of me are secret even to, well, me! It's extremely rare - only happens, oh, once every few millennia. And, well, these last two decades have been so cosmically chock-full that it turned out to be just about the right time for it! But I'm sorry I wasn't able to warn any of you."

Jenny took another bite of the toast that Laura had whipped up with her heat-ray and looked out at the sunset of the seaside town.

"Aw, it's alright. I know how these things are." Anywhere assured her. "I'm just glad to have you back. We all are!"

The others nodded. Jenny grinned.

"Aw, thanks! And thanks for dealing with that monster, too - it's good to know that if I ever really disappear, I've got a great group of friends to take care of any loose ends out to get me!"

"But please don't disappear again." Laura said with a smile. "We'd miss you too much. Everyone would."

"I second that." Hakhe agreed. Michael and Lit nodded. "Yeah - can't have my ortet disappearing on me!" Somewhere chuckled. Jenny smiled again.

"Don't worry. Whatever happens, one thing's for sure: I'm here to stay. Now... how about a toast?" They each raised a slice of toast. "To the Shifters! And to every story we've had - and will have!"

****

Written by Lupan Evezan

The characters of Jenny Everywhere, Jenny Anywhere, Jenny Somewhere, Laura Drake, and Hakhe are available for use by anyone, with only one condition.This paragraph must be included in any publication involving these characters, in order that others may use these properties as they wish. All rights reversed.

The characters of Michael Wherever, the Abstract of Illumination, and Chaos were created by Benj Christensen and released into the public domain.

All concepts and plot events introduced in this story are hereby declared open-source and may be used in any work provided that a paragraph is included noting their status as open-source concepts.

Happy Twentieth Anniversary to Jenny Everywhere!

#JennyEverywhereDay #2021 #Lupan Evezan

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ghostburs-blue · 4 years

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hey!! if ur requests are open :) could you write something with spencer using prompts 60 and 63 from prompt list #5?? it’s the one you have linked in ur request guidelines. thank you lovely! 🥰

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This was so fun to write and I love it loads <33 hope you feel the same lovey!!

Request: hey!! if ur requests are open :) could you write something with spencer using prompts 60 and 63 from prompt list #5?? it’s the one you have linked in ur request guidelines. thank you lovely! 🥰 > #60: “Did you get any sleep last night?” / #63: “I know I should be happy…I did well…I always do well…so why can’t I believe in myself?”

Summary: spencer’s literally oblivious and y/n tries her best to get over it

Warnings: about 1/4 cup of angst, 3/4 cup fluff, and a dash of alcohol mentions!

Word count: 3k

“The regular?” The barista behind the counter chirped, a smile on her face.

“Yes please,” you nodded, smiling back. You hand her your credit card, watching as she swipes it through and motions for you to head to the pick-up area.

Walking over, you pulled out your phone and scrolled through social media, distracting yourself with cute pictures of puppies and kittens.

You raised your head when you hear your name being called out, thanking the worker before grabbing the coffee. You remembered to grab at least 4 packets of sugar before you headed out of the door.

Strolling through the doors of the BAU, you laughed quietly at the sight of Spencer furiously scribbling away. It was funny, really; every other member of the team was either talking to someone, looking bored on their phone, or simply wasn’t even in the office yet. But, there was Spencer, already finished with what looked like the Leaning Tower of Paperwork.

He looked up at the sound of the doors opening, standing when he spotted you.

He walked over to meet you halfway.

“Morning Spence!” You greet him. You reach your arms up to hug him, making sure to not spill the hot coffee on him. “I got you your coffee.”

Spencer playfully gasped, as if this wasn’t a daily occurrence. “I’m blessed to call you my best friend,” he beamed.

Your smile faltered for a second, heart feeling like it had been pierced. His best friend. Clearing your throat, you tried for the most natural-looking smile you could get. You hoped it didn’t look like a grimace.

If Reid noticed your brief change of expression, he didn’t say anything. Grabbing the coffee cup and packets of sugar out of your hand, he thanked you and walked back to his desk.

You followed suit, sitting down in your own chair and sighing at the mound of files on the table in front of you. Looking up, you noticed Morgan and Emily staring at you intently.

You rolled your eyes, knowing what they wanted. The entire BAU team was well aware of your feelings towards Reid, besides the man himself. It was like there was a sign taped to you saying “I love Spencer Reid as more than a friend!” that everyone other than Spencer could read.

You flipped Emily and Morgan the bird, hearing their instant sounds of protest. You giggled under your breath, shaking your head.

It was around noon when Reid stood up to get more coffee. He stood by the coffee pot, waiting for it to finish brewing so he could actually focus on his work again.

As of late, his mind had been extremely preoccupied with thoughts of y/n. He didn’t understand it, they were just best friends! So why did he want to be more?

A beep from the coffee machine jolted him from his thoughts and back to reality. He poured it carefully, making sure to not spill any of the burning hot liquid on himself.

He took a sip, wincing at the almost metallic taste. Man, he really misses y/n’s coffee.

Just as he was about to turn around, a sound behind him made him jump.

You reached out your hand to steady him, laughing a little. “You good?” You asked, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes.

“Y-yeah,” Spencer stuttered. “I’m good.”

You frowned slightly, but decided to take his word for it. “Okayyy,” you said, still unsure of whether to believe him or not. “I’m going to head out for lunch soon, care to join me?”

Spencer’s eyes widened, his mind racing with thoughts. He knew she didn’t mean on a date. Or did she?

It had been almost 30 seconds of silence and y/n shifting awkwardly from foot to foot. “Uh, Spence?” You coaxed, waving a hand in front of his face.

He shook his head, obviously distracted. Grabbing his cup, he pushed past you on his way to the exit. He walked quickly, only turning around when he was almost out of the door. “I think I’m going to pass, thanks for the offer though,” he forces out. You barely have time to give him a nod before he’s gone.

That was weird, you thought to yourself. You push the thought out of your head, deciding to go to lunch alone.

You decide on your favorite sandwich place, a little mom and pop’s shop that you considered your little secret. Entering, you greeted the cashier and ordered your usual.

You nabbed your favorite table by the window, resting your head on your hand. You gazed out of the crystal clear glass, watching the people walk by. Your attention was drawn to a couple strolling past, a leash in the hand of one of the two men.

You kept watching, entranced, as they leaned in to kiss each other. Your heart ached, vision clouding over slightly. Oh how you wished that could be you.

You turned your head as you hear a little cough next to you. A man stood next to you, a smile on his face.

“Is this seat taken?” He asked, gesturing to the chair on the opposite side of the table. You pause for a second. Did you really want to do this? You decide fuck it and nod with a smile.

“No sir,” you laughed, letting him pull the seat out and sit down. He opens his mouth, but you hold up a finger as you hear your name being called.

“I’m so sorry, that’s my order,” you flash him an apologetic look, but he simply nods and motions for you to go ahead.

When you arrive back, you sit down with a grin.

“What’s your name?” He asks, voice bright.

“I’m y/n,” you offer. “What about you?”

“I’m Mason,” he responds.

The time passed quickly between the two of you, chatting and cracking jokes. At one point, Mason stood up to grab his meal too. Before you knew it, it was time for you to head back to the office.

“I have to head back to work,” you start, trying to find a way to end the conversation. You stand, cleaning up your mess and grabbing your things.

Mason stands quickly, reaching out a hand to grab your arm. You stop, looking up at him. He quickly withdraws it.

“I- Can I give you my number? Maybe we can do this again sometime,” he rushes out. You pause for a second before nodding and giving him yours.

“Uh, yeah sure! Can we figure out the details later though? I’m late to work,” you apologize, truly feeling sorry. Thankfully, Mason’s understanding, giving you a quick hug goodbye before you’re off to the agency.

You work hard for the next few hours, only pausing for the occasional bathroom break or to chat with anyone who stopped by your desk.

At around 3, your phone buzzed from its place next to your computer. Picking it up, a grin made its way onto your face as you saw the name “Mason” printed on the top of the text message. He was asking if you were free Friday night, around 6 pm or so.

You quickly reply, thumbs flying over the keyboard as you type out a message.

You look up when you sense a presence. Derek was leaning on your desk, smirking to himself.

“Who are you texting babygirl?” He asks, a cocky look on his face. Unbeknownst to the both of you, Spencer had overheard what he said. Unconsciously, he leaned towards the two of you, trying to hear more clearly.

“It’s no one,” you respond with a flirty smile, setting your phone down. “It’s just… my mom.”

Your mom? That was the best you could come up with? You scolded yourself.

“Are you sure about that? Because you seemed a little too happy to be texting your mom,” Derek hummed, calling your bluff.

“Okay, so there was someone,” you relented, unable to get the grin off of your face. Morgan whistled loudly, gesturing for Prentiss to come over too.

“Miss Player over here has a guy,” Derek grinned, and Prentiss gasped.

“What? And you didn’t tell me?” She asked, sounding offended.

You laughed. “It literally happened at lunch, calm down,” you paused, checking your phone. “We’re meeting up on Friday for dinner.” At this point, both Emily and Morgan lowered their voices.

“But what about, you know,” Derek discreetly pointed at Spencer, who was trying his hardest to not look suspicious. You sighed.

“It feels weird, I’m not going to lie. But it’s clear that he doesn’t like me back, and I can’t be stuck on him forever. So, what the hell?” You shrugged, and they both nodded.

“Good for you!” Emily exclaimed, smiling. “I,” she pointed to herself, “am going to give our dear Garcia a certain someone’s number. Just to, I don’t know, run a complete and thorough background check and make sure he’s not a creep or anything?”

Morgan and you both laughed loudly, shaking your heads.

“You’re too much, Emily,” you sigh, a smile lingering on your face. Prentiss grabs your phone with a cheeky grin, sauntering away to what you could only assume was Garcia’s office. Morgan left shortly after, heading back to his own desk to get some work done.

Soon the workday was over, and you were gathering all your belongings before leaving. You noticed Spencer leaving abruptly, not stopping by you to wait before leaving like he normally did. You frowned, trying to stuff everything in your bag more quickly than before.

“Spencer! Wait up!” You called out, rushing to get to him before he reached the door. He barely broke his stride.

It was too late by the time you reached the exit. He was long gone.

You stopped to catch your breath, frowning slightly. What was that?

You made the decision to call Reid when you neared the door of your apartment. You struggled slightly with your keys, phone pressed to your ear. You sighed when it went straight to voicemail.

You eventually were able to open the door, flicking on the lights and setting your things down on the small table next to the door.

Over the course of the night, you tried to call him twice more. Both ended in the same way, going to voicemail.

The next few days were the same. You continued to get the coffee for Spencer, but he had stopped accepting it. He mostly ignored you throughout the days, and didn’t reply to your calls or texts at night.

Finally, Friday arrived. The instant you came into work, you were bombarded by Garcia.

“Sugar it’s the big day!” She squealed, making you giggle.

“Babe, don’t be so dramatic. It’s just a date, who knows how it’ll go,” you say happily, reaching your desk. You sit down in your chair.

“Only 53% of first dates end in a first kiss,” Spencer mutters, walking by. By the time you register what he said, he’s gone.

You turn to Garcia, but she was looking at you with the same surprised expression.

“He doesn’t talk to me for three days and this is what he says?” You ask, astounded.

Penelope shrugged, throwing a “men” over your shoulder before walking away again.

You shook your head, frowning, but ultimately decided to ignore the comment. You focused on the case files in front of you, trying to get work done today.

Throughout the day you noticed Spencer glancing at you. Every time you looked up to meet his gaze, his head ducked and he would go back to filling out paperwork. You slowly became irritated at him, wondering when he would finally talk to you again.

Eventually, the day ended. You were eager to get home and get ready for your date with Mason.

Your stomach sunk a little as you thought of Mason. Almost instantly, Spencer entered your mind. Of course, you wanted to go out with Spencer. But it was time to realize that it was never going to happen.

At around 6 pm, you put the finishing touches on your look. Glancing in the mirror, you floofed your hair slightly and smiled at your reflection.

You had decided to wear a white silk blouse with a low v neck tucked into a short black skirt. You paired it with a silver chain and black heels.

A second later, your phone buzzed with a text message. It was Mason, letting you know that he was outside. You grinned at the screen, excited. Grabbing your keys, phone, and wallet, you headed out the door and to his car.

“HI!” You giggled, leaning over to plant a kiss on Mason’s cheek.

“Hello to you too, beautiful,” he responded. You blushed. It was a short drive to arrive at the Italian restaurant. You made a mental note to tell Rossi about the food you ate.

Sitting down, you were already enjoying yourself. Mason was kind and funny, respected you, and was appropriate. Practically the dream man.

However, no matter what you did, you couldn’t get Spencer out of your mind.

Every time Mason grabbed your hand, you imagined it was Spencer. Every time Mason made you laugh, you imagined it was Spencer telling you a lame joke.

The night drew to an end after a few wonderful hours. Mason drove you home, walking you to your door.

“I had fun tonight,” he murmured, breath fanning your lips.

You smiled slightly. “Me too,” you whispered. As if attracted by a magnet, you two grew closer until your lips finally met.

You melted under his touch, giving yourself to him. It was an amazing feeling, though you couldn’t help feel guilty that you wished it was Spencer instead.

You forced your bodies to break apart, breathing heavily.

“It’s getting late,” you panted. “I should- we should call it a night,” you stumbled slightly.

“Uh, yeah, of course,” Mason agreed. You pushed open your door, waving at him as you closed it behind you.

All the emotions of the night rushed over you, and you sunk onto the sofa with a sob. When you’re crying and you’re sad, what better to help you deal with your emotions than alcohol? About an hour later, you were now crying, sad, and drunk. Maybe you didn’t have the best plan after all. You found yourself reaching for your phone, subconsciously dialing Spencer’s number.

It rang, but eventually led to voicemail. You heard Spencer’s voice and you choked back a sob.

Hi, you have reached Dr. Spencer Reid’s voicemail box. Please leave a detailed message at the tone, and I’ll get back to you as soon as possible! Morgan, what are you-

The voicemail cuts off as you hear Morgan laughing in the background. You smile through the tears.

“Hi Spencer,” you cough slightly, slurring your words. “I’m so drunk!” You pause slightly. “The date went really well. But, I couldn’t stop thinking of you. Your mind, your smile, your voice. I’m going to tell you a story, Spencer,” you decided.

“Remember when we first met? You were in my criminal psych class in college. We were paired together for a project, and we just stayed friends,” you laughed slightly, your tone bitter. “I remember the moment I fell in love with you, you know. It was after our midterm, and you were stressed?” You gave a weak smile at the memory.

“Hey, Spence!” You called, catching him leaving the finals room after the test. Spencer glanced at you, and you noticed the severe bags under his eyes. “Spence?”

“Hey y/n,” he responded weakly. You frowned, noticing his sad tone.

“Did you get any sleep last night?” You asked, concerned. He shook his head and you pulled him into a hug. “Let’s head back to my apartment,” you grab his arm, steering him towards your car.

Reaching your place, you pulled Reid inside and sat him down on your sofa. He looked up at you with solemn eyes.

“What’s wrong?” You prompted.

Spencer frowned, head dropping to his feet. “It’s the test,” he paused, sucking in a breath. “I know I should be happy…I did well…I always do well…so why can’t I believe in myself?”

Your gaze turned sad, and you gently grasped his jaw, forcing him to make eye contact with you. You pulled him in for a hug, letting him rest his chin on your shoulder.

“Spencer, you’re going to be fine,” you assured him. “You’re so smart, and your brain has never failed you, stupid.”

Reid sat up, opening his mouth to discuss the obvious hypocrisy in your statement. You shushed him, laughing slightly.

“Don’t say anything, Reid,” you grinned. He nodded, giving you a confused smile. “So, how about some movies?”

You finished recounting the memory, pausing to take a breath. “I- I’m so sorry. I never should have called you. Goodnight, Spencer.” You hung up the phone, forcing yourself to head to the bathroom and take off your makeup. You changed and slid into your bed. You fell asleep before your head hit the pillow.

You woke up to incessant knocking on your apartment door. You groaned, a pounding headache quickly developing as a result of your excessive drinking the night before. You popped a mint in your mouth, brushing out your hair quickly.

Heading over to the door, you pulled it open, an annoyed look on your face. It was quickly replaced with shock.

“Spencer?” You asked, confused. “What are you doing here?”

“I love you too,” he let out in a breath.

You stood, there, frozen. “I- What?”

“The voicemail you left last night,” he explained. You smacked your forehead, inwardly cringing at what drunk you inevitably did.

“Wait, so… you actually like me?” you asked, confirming that what you heard was true. Spencer nodded without hesitation.

“Yes, yes, 100% yes,” he exclaims, joy filling his face. Without a second to spare, you both rush forward at the same time, lips colliding frantically. And oh God did it feel good.

He felt like home.

He was home.

***

TAGLIST: @mjloveskids666 @spenciereiddd @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto @reidcult @badboysobsession @thatinspiredgirl

#spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds #y/n #reader #fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #roo’s fics

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worstloki · 4 years

Text

Part 1

--[official naming and legal rights ceremony for Morgan]--

Tony: you know what would be really funny? Pepper: Tony... Tony: THINK about it Pep- how can you say no to this once in a lifetime opportunity? Pepper: Rhodey and Steve. We already decided. Tony: ok fine. FINE! I'll just give up the chance for our daughter to have two literal powerhouses watching over her Pepper: one of them isn't even alive! Tony, signing the paperwork: he was the dodgy one anyways! Pepper: oh g*d tell me you didn't Tony: too late. our daughter's got 1 thunderer and 1 deceased trickster listed as her ~*godparents*~ and no punishment you come up with will ruin this moment for me Pepper: its fine, this is fine, it wont even be legally binding since you can't have two male godparents listed so its invalid anyways, haha this is fine, everything is fine,,, Tony: i actually heard from Thor that Loki could be female if they wanted... Pepper: ... Pepper: TONY!! -- [later] -- Rhodey: dude did you seriously put LOKI down as a legal guardian for your kid instead of me Tony: well I wanted Thor but he insisted that I put Loki down too... something about honouring Asgardian tradition...? Rhodey: tradition is fine but isn't he DEAD? Tony: sure Thor thought he was dead 5 years ago, then again 4 years ago, and then again 2 years ago... but if he was alive he would have already, statistically speaking, shown up by now Rhodey shaking his head fondly: okay i forgive you for replacing me with Thor and his deceased brother, but the next kid has my name on it. I've already called dibs with no takebacks, okay? Tony: one kid is already keeping me busy enough, honeybear...

---[3 years later]---

Tony: And. I. Am. Iron Man... *snaps* Thanos' army: *disintegrates* Tony: *taking his last breathes* Pepper: you can rest now... Loki: *shoves Pepper aside and pulls the gauntlet off Tony* Pepper and Rhodey and Peter who were standing around tony: LOKI ?!? Dr Strange: no SToP you cant juST do THAT- Loki, taking out the time stone: why not Dr Strange: if you change anything now it'll ruin the timelines!!! Loki, reversing time on Tony and bringing him back to life: that's not how time works, Dr. Supreme Dr Strange: It’s Strange, and- Loki: Yes, I agree, it is strange that you decided to let Earth's best hero die when literally every infinity stone is rigHT HERE Dr Strange: but its wrong to misuse their pow- Loki: Then it’s a good thing I'm evil and don't care Dr Strange: buT- Loki: no need to worry, I'm only helping you heroes out this one time because apparently while I was stardust Tony chose to give me partial ownership over his child so now i am bound to care for it Pepper, remembering that Loki is legally Morgan’s godparent: oh my g*d Rhodey: well, I bet Tony didn't expect this Tony, speaking in his sleep: frickity frackity Loki, looking at Tony disapprovingly: I agree. --[a week later]-- Tony: okay, so like, i don't want to seem ungrateful for you saving my life, but i only wrote your name down to get Thor - Loki, annoyed: Yes I figured as much Tony: -yes but if you've saved my life I was wondering exactly how bound you are to help and how far you're willing to go to watch over her Loki: does this have anything to do with the 18+ end-of-the-world-celebration party at the end of the week? Tony: maybe Loki: *stares at him* Tony: ...okay, yES… do you think you could make sure Morgan is alive and well and safe while I go? It’s clear you don't appreciate being forced to be her godparent so if you do it I'll even get your name off the legal documentation by the end of the week and you can leave after Loki: If you so much as try to remove my name when it is THOR that has been neglectful of his duty and has been ignoring the implications of having a child under their name then I will have no choice but to hit you over the head with stormbreaker Tony: oh. okay. no name removing then that's cool i guess just please don't smite me or i'll dob to thor that you're going to try touching his shiny axe and have are regressing on your journey to goodness Loki, pulling stormbreaker out of his pocket dimension: I’m afraid you’re too late to warn him about the potential theft of his favourite beer opener. I will, however, watch Morgan over both days of the party, IF I also get put in charge of the spider child and Wakanda's princess Tony, doing his best to ignore the huge axe: how do you even know about them, weren't you snapped for the past 5 years?? Loki: I understand that they're not allowed to attend the party either and will not have any parents or guardians available to care for them at the time... Tony: you're not going to try any funny business right...? even if you wont hurt Morgan how do i know you wont lay a hand on the others?? I cant just trust you to watch over a bunch of kids no matter how much bruce and thor vouch for your sanity Loki: you can trust I wouldn't risk scarring Morgan like that if you don't trust i wouldn't intentionally attack a bunch of literal children Tony: hmm okay I guess I’ll just cross my fingers and hope you don't relapse into villainy Loki: wonderful. inform the children that I will pick them up 2 hours before the time of the party. Tony: need me to get you a ride? Peter lives close but Shuri lives just a tad bit out of walking range Loki: no thanks I'll be fine

---[at the party]---

Pepper: YOU LEFT HIM ALONE TO CARE FOR MORGAN?! Tony: he’s been doing a fine job of it while we’re around, and besides, it’s not like I left her with him alone or anything! Pepper: No, of course not Tony, that would be too simple, no, you left LOKI in charge of not JUST our child but also Peter, and the PRINCESS of Wakanda too Pepper: do you have any idea how badly this could work out?! putting aside the political disaster that would occur if something happened to Shuri the ethical considerations alone make strangling you very tempting right now Rhodey: Pepper, Tony would never do anything to put Morgan or Peter or even Shuri in danger... he knows they're kids, right Tony? Tony: Peter can benchpress a mag-lev and Shuri can design one in 60 seconds flat. I’m not concerned because they'll be fine even if he does try to pull off anything even 2% evil! Pepper: *not impressed* Tony: some sort of Asgardian binding magic was involved so he literally cant try to inflict any harm on Morgan, and that includes emotional distress just for the record, believe me, i checked Rhodey: what do you mean 'i checked', what did you do man Tony: Morgan wanted ice pops the other day so i told her to ask Loki Pepper: TONY he's a WAR CRIMINAL Tony: so anyways Morgan went up to the ally we’re kindly hosting - who literally takes residence on whichever couch is closest to Morgan by the way and it’s super funny to watch him move between couches every time she leaves the room - and he's reading when she asks if he'll get an ice pop with her Tony: and I've tried talking to him when he's reading and it does NOT end well Pepper: and you sent MORGAN to do it anyways?? Tony: and he said no at first, which was predictable, right? but then Morgan got sad and a bit teary-eyed and she asked again and when he saw she was sad he literally jolted in pain and he put the book aside and got up so fast to immediately lead her to the freezer to get some Rhodey: so, what? he physically cant say no to Morgan or some wacky voodoo thing compels him? Tony: That is the conclusion I have come to with my findings, yes. It seems he can’t intentionally do anything to hurt her in any way. So Morgan and her new friends are completely safe, sweetie. Pepper: I'm leaving to make sure she's doing okay... Tony: I also installed cameras just to make sure no one gets murdered without thorough evidence to convict him, if that helps? Pepper: If you can get the live feed to go to my phone I'll consider staying Tony: deal.

--meanwhile, in Tony's house--

[Peter Shuri Morgan and Loki are wrapped up in blankets and watching The Hobbit. Loki is doing some paperwork and Morgan is drinking orange juice while Peter and Shuri share some popcorn] Peter: so are we going to talk about how we're watching a movie with the person who attacked New York with an alien army a few years ago or not Shuri: he was not acting of his own volition so i thought we were excusing that Loki, looking up: you are literally the first person to have mentioned that Peter: but Mr. Stark said that-- Shuri: footage of the 2012 attack conclusively showed that his eye colour changed before and after he had been subdued the final time, which was a phenomenon associated only with being under the influence of the sceptre containing the mind stone Peter: he does magic though! it could be a trick or the cameras could've been too grainy to tell Shuri: They weren't. But the changes in his behaviour and speech patterns also indicate that he was being controlled or at least coerced to some extent. He's also sitting next to us doing paperwork and watching Bilbo sneak around a dragon. Loki: Congratulations, you are officially the only person from this planet for whom I can confidently vouch is not a- *covers Morgan’s ears* -complete imbecile. Shuri: Thank you. Peter: well, she is a genius Shuri: Yes I am, in fact I'm a genius that has the approval of Loki, which is even better, because I'm assuming he'll have some neat ideas on how to make a fool of T'Challa in my lab on camera more often Loki: I may have some experience in the making-a-fool-out-of-my-brother department Shuri: wonderful! we can brainstorm after the movie :) Peter: I don't have a brother to prank :( Loki: I can fix that Peter: ...what Shuri: yeah, what?? Loki: oh I meant that if you wanted I could legally become your godparent and then you'd have Harley and Morgan as prankable siblings Peter: you know what? I'm actually considering it Shuri: how angry do you think T'challa would be if I made Loki an official Wakandan by saying he's my godfather because I think that would get a hilarious reaction out of him Loki, nodding: According to Asgardian tradition claiming a godchild forms an irrevocable bond and he would have to accept that his sister has someone who pulls off legendary pranks keeping her safe from any attempts at his retaliation Peter: that’s so cool and i'm definitely accepting your offer Shuri: and I'm joining in because i have a folder filled with evidence that Loki was mostly innocent of the New York attack but some videos of us together pulling off harmless pranks would make fine contributions to it Loki: wonderful! Loki, holding out documents and a pen: just sign here, there, and there, Peter: wait you've been sitting next to us filling out godchild adoption forms this whole time??? Loki: well actually I started out filling out the godparent-removal forms because Thor is an irresponsible buffoon and i refuse to share custody with him Peter: do you think i could get ~*Thor*~ to adopt me- Loki: Nopity nope. Too late. You've already signed the forms so you're stuck with me, and I refuse to share any of my friends with him Peter: aww you called us your friends Loki: you have no proof i said that Shuri, pointing to the camera in the corner of the room: but that hackable camera does >:) [peter jumps over the sofa and is going to retrieve the camera for shuri to get the blackmail material when he gets hit by a pillow. shuri says 'hey that was not nice' as she hits loki with her pillow. peter throws the pillow he has at loki. morgan yells 'PILLOW FIGHT!!' before joining in, and by the time they settle down again all of them have missed the ending of the film and have to rewatch the last 20 minutes before drifting off to sleep together on the floor in a patchwork of all their blankets]

---[later at the party]---

Tony: sorry pal, I'm a certified genius and even I don't know how she managed to carry around and slip Morgan’s papers to you when that dress has no pockets and her purse is barely large enough to fit a small-to-medium-sized wrench Rhodey: it was probably the same way she switched your drink for Thor's godchild renouncement forms when you weren't looking Tony, whispering: I think she has CEO paperwork powers Rhodey whispering back: you're only noticing now?

[pepper and tony get home the next day]

Pepper: i still cant believe you left Loki near the kids Tony: and i still cant believe you didn't know how to check the live feed and decided to ignore me the entire night instead of bothering to ask. clearly deep down you trusted my judgement and the decision to leave the kids in Loki's capable, mischiefy, slightly-insane but apparently reformed hands.

[yelling is heard from the living room and Tony and Pepper run in to find Loki Peter Shuri and Morgan sitting around wrapped in blankets and playing Mario Kart and exclaiming their thoughts very vocally. when they are noticed all the kids freeze and stare at Tony. Loki mumbles something about telling Tony he lost the bet since he did in fact manage to keep everyone alive and at that point even Pepper is staring (glaring) at Tony.]

Tony, realising the kids have bonded™: oh no. what have i done.

#part 1 of my modern AU where tony has to deal with his batch of kinda-kids being monopolised by loki #the same loki who refuses to say he's ''reformed'' or ''better than he used to be'' because he's ''always been like this''#the thing is that he's not TELLING anyone about the mind control so everyone assumes the worst #he goes around doing harmless pranks and flambouyantly messing with people and is listed as their Number 1 enemy #despite never harming anyone in the avengers get called in to deal with him all the time but he's not even close to evil?#good luck to tony who has to explain that to people when they see him having a regular conversation with loki #he's not evil he just likes causing mischief and if you're not running away and screaming like crazy the things he does are actually funny #no one gets hurt or anything they're all harmless and he's only a criminal because it counts as 'terrorising civilians' to make trees dance #shuri peter and morgan end up bonding with loki 2 weeks after thanos is gone #before that tony was just kind of hanging around tony's house anyways because ''morgan is here''#spoiler alert: there is no magic binding him to the kids he just values the fact that someone would honour him with responsibility #why did thor ask for loki's name to also be put down? because he DIDNT WANT to be morgan's godfather #he was depressed and knew he was in no mental state to take on that role and didnt think he deserved it anyways #he asked for loki to be written down too because he thought tony would never do that and he would get out of it but that obvsly didnt work #i'm tagging this under: LokiAdoptsAU #LokiAdoptsAU #this is part 1 and I'll post part 2 tomorrow but there isnt going to be a storyline or anything its just everyone existing

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tsunderedoctor · 3 years

Note

Hello and thanks for doing this event. I'm a sucker for match-ups / seeing the opinions of different writers. That said, I've had three done by others so if you are feeling overwhelmed by requests (or simply don't feel like doing it) absolutely no hard feelings if you toss mine.

I'm 31/f and I'm interested in a male match up please. I'm petite/short with blue eyes, kinda pale skin, and ashy brown hair.

I'm INFP-T, though the thinking vs feeling aspect I'm split almost 50/50. I think things through a lot but my emotions interfere with logical decision making at times. It lists me as 100% introverted and it's spot on. I need a lot of alone time/time in my head or I get irritable/stressed. I have very few close relationships and I struggle to open up; I can come across as a jerk because I'm detached but in truth I'm sensitive and empathetic. I appreciate deep conversation on topics I'm passionate about. Those that are close to me I love a lot, though I might not show it well.

As far as Enneagram, I'm a 5w6 and the description of 5 here is on point in its entirety to the point that I'm not sure what else to add. As for the 6 aspect, I believe that is thanks to my anxiety; unlike it says, I do not find myself "looking for something to believe in" but I am distrustful or at least questioning of most things.

Aside from that, I'm a pretty melancholic individual, but I've come to accept it to the point that it's become my (sometimes exhausting) comfort zone. I don't have the energy or desire to keep up any façade to hide my demeanor, which exacerbates my struggle to connect to others.

On a lighter note, my passions include creative outlets (music, art, writing), video games, nature, and animals. I enjoy learning new things, going for walks, rainy days, and fantasy.

I dislike crowds, excitement, physical contact, hot weather, and wet socks.

(Sorry this is so long 😬 I always feel like I'm using writers as therapists when I request match-ups but I want to be thorough. Thank you for reading.)

Honestly same! We need to join some sort of addictions group- But don't you worry! I need to write, it's a nice relaxer for me, gets me out of my head lol! (and also don’t worry, I am going to school to be a therapist, so use me lol-)

As usual, I'm adding two babes. I did one which is your ideal type based off the MBTI and I did an introvert-type who I think you would match well with!

Crocodile

So Crocodile is described as an ENTJ (I find it really funny because Boa Hancock is one as well, and the difference is amazing-), based off the MBTI he is your ideal match and I also think personally he would be a good match for you!

Despite his extroverted behavior, Crocodile isn’t your typical extrovert stereotype; he mostly uses it to motivate people and have them do his bidding. He has that ability to gather people with his words, and that’s where his extrovertism really lies.

He doesn’t mind your melancholy behavior, in face he sometimes relishes in it with you. And he also doesn’t care if you don’t want to put up some kind of front, he rather you be yourself, at least to him.

He’s not much of a romantic type or one to get sentimental, so he doesn’t mind your detached demeanor. He’s the type to read people very well, so he can tell how you really feel without words needed. I also feel he is one for philosophical discussions! He’s the type to live on the edge so he finds it interesting to see how others think about his choices.

He’s also not the type to enjoy crowds, he rather watch from the sidelines after giving some grand speech. He’s also happy you are not a fan of physical contact, he doesn’t need a lover who can’t read the room and wants his attention 24/7.

Is offended you don’t like hot weather lol-

Basil Hawkins

North Blue represent! Okay, but in all seriousness, he’s a good match for you! He’s an INTP, he likes to think things through fully (or relies on his cards-), rather than go with his heart. So it’s nice having someone who can help balance him out and maybe help him start to use his heart more!

He’s also very melancholic in nature, he gives off these European gothic vibes, so he would be a great person to understand your personality (just try not to sit in that feeling for too long-).

An art lover himself, he finds your creative outlet to be relaxing and will sometimes help you find a muse if you so desire. He also tends to tell you how well your artistic passion will do based on his cards, so stop him if you don’t want to know.

Peace and calmness is his comfort, rainy days, sitting by the window in a turtleneck sweater while drinking tea is his ideal day! He likes the idea of spending the day with you during those times, rather than do something fun or exciting.

He’s also not a fan of physical touch and values your agreement in that. It’s not that you two won’t ever have intimate moments, you just express your love for one another in your own unique ways that only you understand.

#tsunderedoctor #ask #chocolate-n-cheese #matchup #300 follower event

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latinozevran-archive · 4 years

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okay finally making thorough post abt sgrs ending for just future reference for anyone if they are interested in watching bc i do think its important to know first.. tried to keep it as spoiler free as possible other than the obvious and sry for the length kajshdf but anyways i am going to put the rest under a read more ♥️ and cw incest mention

ok i am gonna try to make this as comprehensible as possible i have had a few stabs at this already w friends so hope this goes well bc there's a lot to unpack abt this but the first thing to understand abt it is 1) imo the twist u are given is ABSOLUTELY a fucking lie and given the amnt of times i have now seen the show i feel very confident in this, and 2) it is a very easy scene to note the start of and then skip which i will mention @ the end..

all right so no stalling getting into the twist itself and then uh. explaining after. but first assuming no context for what sgrs is about:

the story is largely abt like family what it means etc following the course of one mans life! he has an adopted daughter child of ex-beard and ex-man he was in love with his whole life who passed away and they have a very complicated difficult relationship and a major part of s2 is about them beginning to repair that as they both get older and what happens when she has a baby and he actually finds himself unexpectedly loving being a grandfather and it being like his second chance to have a child in his life and treat him with the warmth and kindness he failed to show his daughter when she was younger but also just spoiling him rotten in true grandparent fashion askfhksndbf... it is all very sweet and moving. thing abt mr baby is his mom has him on her own no father in the picture it provides at one point an explanation for who the bio father may be with somewhat of an implication that may not rly be who it is i am so sorry if you can already see where this is going promise there will only be like one more sentence of this and then i can explain AKSJD.

THUS the mind numbingly evil bit is a side character at the end going up to the daughter years after protags death and going wink wink u know all this time i must admit i had a theory abt who your sons father was.. and this evil little man rly suggests the protag was her sons father like jfc and of course bc the authors evil she rly left it w konatsu just going well >:) whos to say. i am never gonna answer that question tho.

OKAY SO ONTO LIKE CONTEXT bc i had none when i first watched and i will say this sent me spiraling a bit my god my god.

FIRST THING. i do wanna explain why its a plain ass lie but i also need to clarify in no way is it excusable as a writing decision.. the author is a supremely fucked up woman who i do not intend to excuse for anything she has written esp this and my take on her um. decision making here was more like a fucked up reference to evil tropes than utilizing them herself bc i wouldnt put it past her to have done that frankly but it wouldve had to simply be a different story than it was. absolutely no quarrel w someone who doesnt want to watch it given all this like it really is... yeah. also no need to touch the manga the animes better anyways lol

2) ok if u are still reading... i think context for who is saying what is very important it is a man who you are consistently told has had it out for the protagonist for YEARS and really is shown to have something just a little off about him the evil shit he will sometimes say out of the blue building up to this... he is NOT framed as a reliable source of info. secondly like konatsu truly is his daughter man her freakishly evasive reply if it were abt anything else truly would be funny i hate it here

3) i am not gonna bother listing all the reasons it is false bc it would be way too long unless anyone wants 2 ask me further but highlight reel how much of the story is abt their parent child dynamics, the fact that he was.. in love w her father and helped raise her a bit with him even when he was still alive, just about every other thing abt their relationship and also his relationship with his grandson, etc... and also the fact that lying and shaping narratives of a life is um . a major element of the story and for someone to kind of pathetically attempt to do that after kikuhiko's death is definitely intentional

4) LASTLY it is tempting to think the story is in 2 parts bc s1 feels like such an isolated story u would think part 2 is maybe only partially related but i promise it isnt and changes the meaning of season 1 fairly significantly so if this seems like it is something u are up for i would definitely recommend watching them both season 2 really is very good otherwise and also wanna stress this is not like. the Ending of sgrs this is an individual scene in the last episode that is upsetting enough to overshadow everything else if ur unprepared but in the grand scheme of things far from the most important plot thing going on

AND THE THING I PROMISED UP TOP: if u actually do watch, there is a scene that starts w konatsu and higuchi sitting down having a conversation, nothing super important happens u can either skip the conversation altogether or specifically once they are alone bc the kids are there for a bit, and thats it :)

THANK U FOR READING... HAVE FUN STAY SAFE

#o #shouwa genroku rakugo shinjuu #HI SORRY HERE IT IS #HOPEFULLY THIS IS ALL LIKE. LEGIBLE. MONSTER OF A POST THAT IT IS #ik i am posting this at this hr i might rb it tmo akshdkfkfbf

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kayteewritessteve · 5 years

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DT - Just Drunk 3/3

Description: It’s finally your first date night with Steve, and everything starts out great. But then things start to take a drastic turn for the worst, and you are both left helplessly watching as the night crashes and burns before your very eyes. Whoever said that having best friends was a good thing, clearly lied to all of us... Masterlist HERE.

Word Count: 11,470 ish.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader.

Rating: PG. Warnings: Curse words. Awkward moments. Shitty friends.

Requested: Nah, this is just the third and final part to this mini series.

A/N: I sadly don’t own any of these characters. And no beta reader, so I do proudly own all the errors and this story, so there’s that.

It’s finally here!! The final part of Drunk Twitter! And my entry to @justkending milestone celebration!! My prompt will be in bold and was: “Ever wanted to smack someone upside the head with a frying pan?” “Cause I’m getting that feeling right now.” CONGRATS TO YOU, LOVELY, ON YOUR 1000 FOLLOWERS MILESTONE! Here’s to many, many more followers to come for you! You deserve the whole damn world. Oh! And HAPPY BIRTHDAY BEAUTIFUL!! I hope you had a wonderful day, locked in your house lol ❤️❤️❤️

That was hands down the worst date that either you, or Steve, had ever been on, in your entire separate lives. And that was saying a lot, considering Steve was just over 100 years old, and you weren’t exactly a spry young chicken yourself. At least when it came to the dating world, you weren’t.

So why, exactly, was this date such a colossal disaster, you ask? Oh, well, let us show you it in its entirety, from start to finish. Then you’ll understand exactly why, and when, it all went to hell in a handbag.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Readers POV

Tonight’s the night. After 5 days of intense mood swings, calling your friends crying and begging for pep talks, hardly getting any tasks done at work, issues with sleeping, and a few very large glasses of wine—read, just the straight bottle. No glasses were used, because we aren’t about that life here— It’s finally Friday night AKA your date night with Steve. And—oh fuck, nope, no, nu uh. You can’t do this. You just can’t!

You flop down onto the ridiculous pile of clothes that is now your bedroom floor and try to bury yourself within it. You can’t do this. You really can’t. So instead, you will just burrow into these clothes and they will become your home now. Lindsey and Tyler can drop off food once a week to sustain you, and if you get an extension cord, you could totally rig up your laptop in here.

Note to self: regardless of if you stay buried in these clothes or not, you really do need to get an extension cord. They are honestly useful as fuck.

But back to the main issue at hand here, which was agreeing to this ridiculous date. That was a horrible idea! Honestly, what were you even thinking?! You know you don’t take stress well, that you overthink and panic over even the smallest of upsets, but shit—wait, where was I going with this again? OH! Right! Who do you even think you are? Going on a damn date with thee Steve Rogers! The most gentlemanly, gentleman that ever gentlemaned! Shit!

And then there is you, a washed up journalist with hair that never cooperates, pores the size of Russia, and—you swear that—you walk with a limp, because you are positive that one leg is just slightly shorter than the other. You swear it! On your damn life!

Okay, so maaaaaybe you are overreaching here just a tad, again. But the point still stands. You aren’t special, or a superhero, or ya know, God's gift to the world. You are just you. Y/N Y/L/N. So how is it that you scored a date with thee sweetest, most down to earth, most handsome guy out there? Damn. Maybe good Karma really is a thing?—No, no. You shake your head, vehemently. Because in that case, you would have ended up getting shit on by a bird or something, instead of going on a date with Steve..

Alright, it’s decided. You aren’t going on this date. You don’t deserve to go on this date. You’ll just pick up your phone and call—no! Text! Facing him...err, ya know, what your voice? Shit, doesn’t matter, what does though is the fact that you having to cancel over the phone would just be way too hard, and far too heartbreaking. A text is super impersonal, but much easier. And—hey! Don’t judge us! We never claimed to be courageous! We are basically the damn cowardly lion in human form over here. So come to terms with that. Own it. It’s a part of who we are now.

You groan, moving your arms around languidly over the insane pile of clothes beneath you, in search of your cellular communication device. The movement reminds you of making snow angels as a kid, so just for good measure you move your legs as well, and allow the random procrastinating train of thought to continue on for a few more minutes. Hoping it will calm your nerves even a little.

It obviously doesn’t, but it does cause you to giggle, and locate your phone, so that’s a win, you guess. You pick the phone up and bring it to above your face, your eyes instantly widening when you realize the time. 5:46pm. Shit! Steve is supposed to be here at 6! There is no way you can text and cancel now! You’re willing to bet he’ll be here at exactly 6, and he is probably driving as we speak, therefore he won’t even get your text till he is outside your apartment. And shit, cancelling at this point is just fucking mean. You have to go on this date now, you have no choice.

You groan loudly again as you barrel roll off the pile of clothes and awkwardly climb to your feet, heading over to the mirror to take a second look at the 15th outfit you’ve tried on tonight. But before you can give it a thorough re-looking over, your phone rings abruptly and you jump, almost chucking it across the room. Man, you are clearly far too jumpy tonight, and you always have this weird desperate need to involuntarily destroy your phone. Like what even is that? Your phone continues to ring, and you quickly answer it, not even checking who is calling. “H-hello?”

“Breathe. What are you wearing?”

Lindsey, it’s Lindsey. You glance down, “dark wash jeans, a black sheer blouse, and my black ankle boot heels.” You freeze, realization and then irrational fear taking hold, as you stare back at yourself in the mirror. “Oh shit, do you think I’m too underdressed? Oh crap! I am, aren’t I? I should have worn a dress! He’s from the damn 30’s! Oh fu—“

“Woman!” Lindsey cuts you off, “just breathe, babe, damn. You are overthinking this whole thing way too much. Your outfit is perfect, I bet you look like a freaking fox right now, and I know for a fact you will blow Steve away. So just simmer your shit a little, okay?”

You nod slowly to your reflection, realizing Lindsey can’t see the action you quickly mumble. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. I’ll be okay, I look fine, I’m fine. I’m breathing now. Promise.”

“Very convincing,” Lindsey snarks and you can damn near hear her rolling her eyes at you.

You are about to snark back at her, but a few light knocks on your door halt the words in your throat. Shiiiiit! He’s here!

“Fuck! Linds!” You hiss. “He’s here! What do I do?!”

“Jesus,” she sighs, exasperated, “you get off the phone and answer the door! And then have a wonderful fucking night. It’s that simple.”

“Okay. Okay. You’re right, again, it sounds simple enough. I got this.” Yet the words don’t sound convincing at all. At least not to your ears.

“You do,” she reaffirms. “Now repeat after me, I look great. I will rock this damn date. I will blow him away with my looks and my interesting and funny conversation topics. Because I got this shit on lock.”

“Yes, I second everything you just said. But I have to go! Bye!” You pulled the phone from your ear and are just about to hang up, when you hear.

“Wait!!” Ring from the phone's speaker, and you halt from hanging up, putting the phone back to your ear.

“Yes?” You question in a rushed manner, needing to get off the phone so you can answer the door and not leave Steve Rogers standing idly in your hallway for all your neighbours to see.

“Call me as soon as the date ends!! Or there will be hell to pay!” She warns. “I want all the dirty details, so don’t forget a damn thing! And most of all, have fuuuuun!” She singsongs the last part.

“Will do! Bye!” You hang up quickly before she can say anything else. Was that rude? Probably. Do you care at the moment? Not in the slightest. You’ll make it up to her later.

You rush from your room, closing the door behind you so he can’t catch even a small glimpse of the chaos that has become your bedroom floor. Then you make your way to your front door, pulling on your heel booties and grabbing your jacket from the back of your dining room chair before pulling it on as well. With one last look at yourself in your entryway mirror, you pull open your door and your heart damn near leaps from your chest at just the sight of him alone.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Steve's POV

Finding her address took way less time than he thought it would, and once he parks he realizes just how early he is. He couldn’t go up yet, could he? No, no, arriving too early is ‘bad form’, as Sam had put it, and ‘makes you look too eager,’ as Bucky had added. Both men were not being overly helpful, at all. But then Nat had piped up, and said to ignore both guys, and the true reason you don’t want to show up too early is because she probably won’t be ready, and it’s never good to rush a woman’s pre-date prepping process. So after Nat’s words of wisdom replay in his mind, he decides to wait it out, and head up closer to 6. Not wanting to rush you in any way, shape, or form.

But the second the clock clicks to 5:55, he is out of the car and halfway to your apartment's front door. He is just about to buzz your number, when another resident exits the door and sees him standing there. The residents eyes widen comically upon realization that Captain America is currently standing outside their apartment, and with a few stuttered words of praise and thanks, the resident steps aside, still holding the door, and allows Steve access to the apartments lobby.

With a sincere and rushed ‘Thank you’, Steve makes his way into the building and up to the 4rd floor to your apartment door. He glances down at his watch and sees that it’s now 5:59, right on time, he thinks. He quickly pats down his clothes, trying to smooth them out and eradicate the wrinkles from sitting in the car for so long. And just as the clock ticks over to 6:00, he takes a deep breath, and raises his hand, knocking loudly on the fake wood door.

His super soldier ears pick up the shuffled sounds of movement and the murmur of a soft voice through the door. Though he can’t make out the words, and yes, if he focused himself he probably could, but your privacy is still important to him. Even though he’s sort of taken it away from you once or twice in the past. Be it by looking at Tony’s file on you, or constantly creeping your social media accounts. Granted, social media is you putting it out there to the world, so it’s not exactly a breach of privacy. But yet, it still made Steve feel weird and creepy for doing it, so that sort of counts, at least in his mind it does—

The door abruptly opening cuts off Steve’s train of thought, and then the sight now before him causes his mind to just blank. With no hopes in it recovering anytime soon, because you are breathtaking. More beautiful than the last time he saw you, and that’s saying something because he was almost rendered speechless the first time. And this time, he is.

How the hell is he going to make it through this night, if he can’t even say a word from just the sight of you, alone?! Oh hell, he’s doomed.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Readers POV

A silent moment goes by, neither one of you uttering so much as a syllable. Just both standing there, staring at each other and speechless. Finally you find your voice and drag it back from its hiding place. “Uh, hi,” you wave awkwardly—And woooow, clearly you only dragged a part of it back. And also, a freaking wave?!? What are you, 12? You’d facepalm right now, if it weren’t for the tall blonde standing directly in front of you currently.

Steve gives you a shy smile, and an awkward wave in return, “Hi.”

Okay, so at least you aren’t the only awkward one. That’s good, you guess. “Shall we?” You ask, pointing past Steve at the empty hallway.

He nods quickly, “yeah. Yeah, let’s go.” And then he steps out of the doorway to allow you room to exit your apartment. You quickly do, turning to close and lock your door, and then you direct your attention back to the Adonis beside you, as you both begin to walk towards the stairwell door.

A silence looms over you both, you aren’t exactly sure what to say, and it would appear Steve has the same sentiments. You make your way down the stairs and out your apartment buildings front door, and then you freeze. Completely. You gape at the all black car, currently parked on the curb outside your building. “Is that,” you pause, your voice barely coming out above a whisper, so you clear your throat, “is that a Mclaren P1?” You turn to look back at Steve, eyes wide and mouth hanging slightly open.

He gives you a bashful look, “it is. I’m sorry, I was planning to bring my bike, but then Nat told me you might be wearing a dress, and that even if you weren’t, the helmet would just mess up your hair,” he trails off, glancing at the car and mumbling, “So Tony forced me into taking this ridiculous car.”

You chuckle softly and turn to look back at your dream car, sitting just 25 feet away. “Not ridiculous at all. If I ever won the lottery, that’s the first thing I’d buy,” you gesture to the car and then a cold sweat rips through you, and you quickly look down to inspect your clothes. Or rather, the ass of your jeans.

There is no way in hell you are getting in that car, until you are positive there isn’t a single thing on your jeans that could accidentally be transferred to the seats. You could NEVER afford to replace one of those seats, they are insanely expensive and your measly junior journalist pay would not cut it. You’d be back paying till you were old and grey. No! Longer than that, you’d have to leave your debt owing to Tony Stark in your damn Will. So that your poor children and grandchildren could continue to pay it off after you’re dead and gone. That’s how expensive they are.

A soft chuckle from behind you causes your eyes to flick up and realize that Steve is watching your every move. Including how you just checked your own ass out. Wonderful. Way to go, smart one!

“Ah, shall we?” You ask, yet again, as clearly that’s the only words you have in your repertoire tonight. Some journalist you are. Steve gives you a large grin, and nods, then he places his hand on your lower back and leads you towards your dream car. And if this wasn’t a first date, and that wasn’t Tony Stark's car, you’d have totally asked if you could drive it. But you refrain, this time.

Steve lifts up the passenger door for you,—yes, ‘lifts up’. Butterfly doors are just far too damn cool for words!— like the gentleman he is and you thank him quietly as you slip in. And the second the door is closed, your eyes excitedly bounce around the car's interior, taking in all of it as you may never get a chance to sit in a Mclaren again. And you don’t want to miss or forget a single detail about this damn car.

Steve slips into the driver's seat and clicks in his seatbelt, reminding you that you should probably do the same. So you quickly click yours in as well. Then he turns to you, “you like cars, I take it?”

“Something like that,” you chuckle as he pushes a button to start up the car and it roars to life. Which yeah, that causes your insides to do a little happy dance of excitement at just the sound of this beast alone. “My dad was a mechanic, and an avid supercar enthusiast. So I grew up around cars and at race tracks.”

Steve hums his acknowledgement of your words, as he pulls away from the curb. “I’m more of a bike guy, myself. But I can appreciate a beautiful car.”

You smile at him, happy that you’ve both managed to get over your initial awkwardness and settled on a topic you are comfortable and knowledgeable in. “I like bikes as well, though I’m nowhere near coordinated enough for two wheels, so I stick to four.”

He chuckles, and takes a second to glance over at you before focusing back on the road, “Well, I’ll have to take you out on my bike one day,” he pauses and then quickly adds, “If um, if you’d be interested in that?”

You nod enthusiastically, “I’d really like that.”

You see the hint of a smile form on the side of his lips, “okay. I can make that happen.”

Then what his words actually meant hits you, and you freeze up again. Because, wait, did he just ask you on a second date?! Did he just imply that he already knows he wants a second date? Even before this one has actually started? Shit, what are you supposed to do with that information?! Thank God your frazzled and slightly slow mind hadn’t clued into this until after you’d answered him. Or you could have just ended up not replying at all, and making the poor guy think you didn’t want to see him again. Or that you weren’t enjoying yourself so far. Which couldn’t be further from the truth.

You pull your head out of your ass, and decide to ignore your insecurities and fears, and just talk to Steve. So you start asking him simple questions about himself, nothing too deep, just surface stuff, and as the car ride continues on, you find yourself relaxing more and more.

You both just talk the entire way to the restaurant and before you know it, the car is coming to a stop and Steve is climbing out and handing the valet his keys. He quickly makes his way around to your side and opens up the door before you can even attempt to get it yourself, he offers you a hand and helps you out, and yeah, that makes you swoon a little more. But just a little.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Steve's POV

As he pulls open the restaurant's door for Y/N, and guides her inside, he starts to finally calm down. Thank God his implication of wanting a second date so soon into the first one, hadn’t scared her off. Bucky had told him to play it aloof, leave her wanting more. Sam had told him to be cool, and to think before he spoke. And Nat had told him, once again, to ignore the guys and just be himself. If he wanted to say something to her, to just freaking say it. Be open, and honest, and not some fabricated asshole or casanova. Because that wasn’t him, and girls could usually see right through that shit. So he’d once again decided to go with Nat’s advice, as hers seemed the least scary. And the most realistic.

But when the words had left his mouth, he’d almost groaned and banged his head against the steering wheel. Because who the hell brings up a second date, 5 minutes into the first? That was way too eager of him, to just assume she’d even be interested in the first place. But yet, it had worked out in his favour, because she’d replied instantly, and excitedly, that she’d really like that. So maybe just being himself, and saying what was in his head was the best option after all. It did score him a second date, so clearly this was going well. If he was any judge of things, that is.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Readers POV

Your eyes land on the beautiful young woman standing behind a podium, and the moment her eyes flick up and locked on you both, a large grin forms on her lips. You honestly don’t know what to make of the smile, it’s not exactly one you’d have expected, and you can’t place why it makes you feel so awkward.

It’s odd for sure, but then she speaks and her voice is a polar opposite to her grin. It’s sweet and soft, and calming. “Good evening you two, do you have a reservation? Or just looking for a table?”

“We have a reservation, under Rogers,” Steve answers and you aren’t sure if he is getting the same odd vibes as you are, maybe he is used to people reacting weirdly to his presence. Or maybe, you are just finally going fully crazy, but one glance up at the large blonde, and seeing the slight furrow of his brow, tell you that this isn’t normal, or maybe he is picking up on the same weird vibes that you are. So you aren’t going crazy—at least not this time, you aren’t.

She nods quickly, then picks up two menus and asks you both to follow her. She leads you through the restaurant and to a back corner table. “Here you are,” she says as she places the menus down on the table. “Your waiter will be with you shortly,” she adds, and you are positive that she is trying not to laugh. But you have no idea why. So far, every moment you’ve spent in this restaurant has been so damn weird. But you put that thought out of your mind as she leaves you both alone and scurries off back to her podium.

Steve helps you out of your jacket hanging it on your chair, then he pulls the chair out for you, and you thank him as you sit. He moves to sit across from you, as your eyes flick back over to the woman at the podium, and you notice she is watching you both. Clearly trying to hide that fact, but it’s pretty damn obvious. Once Steve is settled, you snap your eyes back to him, “that was weird, wasn’t it?”

He peers over his shoulder and also glances at the hostess for a second, before turning back to you. “Yeah, that was odd.”

“Does that always happen to you? Do people react to you like that all the time?”

He shakes his head, “sometimes they react, but never like that. That was a first for me.”

You nod, chuckling quietly as you pick up your menu and open it, “okay, so I wasn’t the only one that thought that was weird.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Steve's POV

“No,” Steve chuckles as he opens his menu as well. “You weren’t.”

He has never had someone react to his presence like that, he’s had people cry, scream, and laugh uncontrollably. Hell, he’s even had a few people faint, but never has a stranger reacted like that to him before. He isn’t sure what to make of the grin she gave him, it was almost like she was in on something that he wasn’t. And he did not like that thought, not one bit. He pushes the thoughts from his mind, as they both take a few moments to peruse the menus quietly.

A shadow falls over the table and Steve assumes the waiter has arrived, he continues to look over the menu as they place two waters on the table and begin to speak. “Good evening, my name is,” there is a strange pause and then a very awkward sounding, “Will,” is added. “And I’ll be your server tonight. Can I start you both off with something to drink?”

Steve furrows his brows, because he is sure he recognizes that voice. He is 100% positive that he’s heard it many, many times—You have got to be kidding him!? His eyes snap up and lock onto a very familiar set of brown eyes, and then his narrow into a glare. And even with very real looking facial hair, he could spot Sam from a damn mile away. What the fuck is Sam doing here? And as his waiter, no less. And just like that, the hostess’ reaction now makes perfect freaking sense.

Steve quickly glances at Y/N, hoping she hasn’t looked up just yet, seeing that she is still buried in her menu, then he flicks his eyes back to ‘Will’ and he narrows them. The aforementioned ‘waiter’ just gives him a cheeky grin in return. ‘What are you doing here?’ He mouths to his soon to be ex best friend.

‘Taking your drink orders,’ Sam mouths back with a ‘duh’ expression on his face, causing Steve's eyes to narrow even more in warning.

“I’ll just take an iced tea,” Y/N pipes up and Steve shakes his head before begrudgingly saying, “and I’ll take a beer, whatever’s on tap.”

“Excellent choices,” Sam says excitedly and shoots Steve one more cheeky grin before he damn near runs away from the table. Leaving Steve feeling super confused, very irritated and entirely nervous as to just what his friend—hold that thought, he quickly glances around the restaurant, and his eyes lock on a table on the other side with three men and a woman, all in horrible disguises and he instantly knows who they are. Bucky, Tony, Clint and Nat—what his friends, he corrects in his head, have planned. Seriously, what the hell are they doing?!

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Readers POV

After ordering your drink, you finally decide which meal you’d like and then you place your menu down and glance up at Steve, curious if he’s decided yet or not. But before you can ask, you notice that he looks super out of it now. Like he is lost in thought, and he is entirely focused on something at the other side of the room. You glance over and see that he is looking—read, glaring—at a table with a few people sitting at it. “Do you know them?” You ask quietly, as you just continue to stare at them as well.

“Hmm?” He questions, “who?”

You turn to look at him again, seeing that his focus is now back on his menu. And once again, you feel extremely weird. “The people at that table over there,” you tip your head in it’s direction.

He looks up at you for a second, silently, before he rubs the back of his neck and glances back down at his menu. “Ah, possibly. I just ah, I think I know them from somewhere, but I can’t really remember exactly where.” He shrugs, “probably from work.”

You nod, his answer seeming a little forced and awkward, but you decide to just drop it. “So, any ideas on what you’d like to eat?”

“I was thinking the steak. It sounds delicious.”

“That’s what I was thinking about getting as well,” you smile to yourself, realizing you both seem to enjoy the same foods. Clearly that’s another thing you both have in common. Score!

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Steve's POV

His eyes continue to dart between the table with his so-called ‘friends’ and the beautiful woman across from him. He is furious at his team for crashing his date, and with each passing second he only becomes more and more angry. How could they do this to him? He was nervous enough about this date, and now they had to go and add more stress onto his already frazzled nerves.

It’s taking everything in him not to go over there and tell them all to leave. His eyes snap back to Y/N, and he wants to smack himself for barely paying any attention to the story she is midway through telling. Here he is supposed to be learning all about her, or at least learning about her first hand, instead of only going on the outside information he learned from Tony’s invasion of privacy folder.

And if barely paying any attention to his date, isn’t bad enough, he also lied to her about the occupants of that stupid table. He knows exactly who they are, but in a split second decision, he chooses to not inform Y/N of that. The last thing he wanted was for her to feel uncomfortable in any way. And his nosy friends crashing their date to spy on them, yeah, that makes him uncomfortable and he knows them. He can’t imagine how she’d react to this all, so he decided to keep their presence to himself. At least until he figures out exactly what they have planned, and why the hell they thought it was a good idea to crash his date.

He vows right then and there to tell her about his shitty friends once they leave the restaurant, and apologize for his white lie at that point. But that doesn’t really relieve his guilt over all of this, nor his stress.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Readers POV

It’s not hard to tell Steve is distracted by something, and you’d have to be blind to not notice him constantly glancing over at that table. To his credit, he is doing a pretty good job at hiding his immense interest in the four occupants, but you still noticed.

And maybe that has something to do with the fact that you’ve been talking about Eggo waffles and Oreos for the last 5 minutes, having ran on a hunch that he wasn’t really paying attention to you, and that hunch having turned out to be correct.

So here you are, telling him all your favourite flavours of Oreo, and describing exactly how you eat them. You are curious just how long it will take him to clue in and question you on your current conversation topic. So far, the timer just passed 5 minutes and is still going strong.

You have no idea who the people at that table are, but you figured Steve would tell you if you had anything to worry about. And since he hadn’t yet, you were trying to ignore the small pang of fear that they were bad people, hell-bent on hurting him, you, or both. He did deal with lots of bad, bad people in his line of work though. Or rather, he pissed off a lot of them. So you could only imagine how many wanted to cause him harm, or the people around him—But we aren’t focusing on that at the moment. One issue at a time here.

The waiter returns to drop off your drinks and take your food orders, and you don’t miss the small glare Steve sends him, which yeah, that’s fucking odd as well. You have no idea what this waiter did to him, but you can only assume it probably has something to do with the table of four. Maybe the waiter is a baddy as well?—Shit, if that is the case, then they have you both surrounded.

And what if they poison the food? Oh God! Maybe you should fake a tummy ache and see if Steve will take you home early? Ya know, just to be safe—you shake your head gently. Don’t be silly, like you already thought, if anything was wrong or if you were in any danger, Steve would have told you. Or at least made sure to protect you, he was a freaking superhero after all—

“Oreos?” He asks finally, the cutest furrow in his brows at his confusion on the current topic. The one you’d picked right back up the second the waiter walked away.

And you chuckle, that only took him 10 minutes. Not bad. But not really great either, you guess. “I like Oreos,” you shrug, trying to act casual. “So tell me a little about yourself. What kinds of sweets does Steve like?”

He chuckles, “I guess Oreos are pretty good, I’m also a fan of them. But my all time favourite are Reese’s peanut butter cups.”

“Really?” You ask leaning forward on your hand with your elbows on the table, genuinely intrigued by his choice in chocolate.

“Yeah,” he chuckles again. “When I woke up from the ice, I was really surprised to see that Reese’s were still around. I remember when they first started selling them, or at least when I first started buying them, back in the early 30’s. Though they were sold individually back then, and at only 2 cents a piece,” he chuckles a little more, shaking his head as he does. “It still boggles my mind how much has changed since then, but yet, some things have stayed exactly the same.”

“I can’t even imagine,” you say honestly, “what else has stayed the same?” And just as he starts to tell you a few other things, your eyes catch movement behind him and you glance towards it. Seeing an older woman sitting at a table, one away from yours, and facing you. With what looks like an older man sitting across from her, but you can only see the back of his head. But then you notice that she is looking down at the phone in her hands, intently, as it’s raised up in the air, above her table. What is that woman even doing? Is she—is she taking freaking pictures of you!?

Your eyes focus in on the phone in question and—wait a fucking second! Is that a damn cat DJing a pizza, in space?! You audibly gasp, as your eyes snap back up to lock on the ‘old ladies’, who is now looking at you and then yours narrow, accusingly. And at least the woman has the good sense to avert her eyes, quickly, but the damage has been done. So you then assess the back of the ‘old mans’ head, and come to an unwavering realization.

“Are you okay?”

“Hmm?” You flick your eyes back to Steve’s. “Oh, yeah. Yep. I’m just dandy,” your eyes again lock on the stupid ‘old woman’. “I just have to use the ladies room, I’ll be right back.” You abruptly stand, barely getting the words out before you quickly run away from your table. You glance back to make sure Steve isn’t watching and then forcefully yank the ‘old’ woman and man from their spots and drag them to the bathrooms with you. Not giving them a moment to protest.

Then the moment the door shuts you whirl around on them, grabbing the woman’s grey hair and pulling on it, leaving you holding a wig in your hands and glaring daggers at your, so called, best friends. If you weren’t so angry right now, you’d have commented on this being a wig snatching great time. But you're furious. Fuming, even.

“I really shouldn’t be in here,” Tyler points out unhelpfully.

“Oh please,” you scoff, “I’m more likely to check out the women in this bathroom than you are.”

He presses his lips together, nodding in agreement but he is smart enough to keep his lips zipped. Your eyes move over to glare menacingly at Lindsey.

“Look, we can explain,” she puts her hands up in submission.

“I sure fucking hope so,” you scold, crossing your arms like a pissed off parent. “Well, let’s hear it then. Come on, out with it. What could have possibly possessed you both to crash my date? Hmm?”

“It was his idea,” Lindsey points to Tyler, at the same time he points to her, “it was her idea.”

They both gasp, scandalized, and glare at each other. “Liar!” They say in unison. Another gasp from both, “I am not!” and again, in unison.

You feel like they rehearsed this, they had to have. And if, by the off chance that they didn’t, then they clearly share the same wave link. And obviously a dumb one, at that.

“Okay, whoever’s idea it was aside,” you wave a dismissive hand around. “You both not only agreed to crash my date, but followed through with that stupid plan. So how I see it, you are both at fault here.” You sigh, some of the wind in your sails vanishing, “now, the real question is what the hell guys?” You shift your eyes between the two, “you both knew how excited and nervous I was for this date, how could you think this was a smart idea? The last thing I needed was more stress added into the mix. And the fear of Steve realizing you are both here, now that adds a lot of unnecessary stress onto me.”

“Sorry,” they both mumble with their heads down, like scolded children. And you believe you are getting through to these two knuckleheads. Buuuuuut then Tyler has to go and ruin it, “but it was actually Lindsey's idea, just to clarify.”

Linds jerks her head up and glares at him, “it was ‘our’ idea, traitor!” She hisses out. And just like that, they are back to bickering again.

You groan loudly and clench your eyes shut, taking a deep calming breath before you intervene, “okay, enough!” They both snap their mouths shut and turn to you. “I don’t have time to stand here and listen to you both argue. Unless you forgot, I’m sort of supposed to be on a date right now, and I’ve now been standing in the women’s bathroom for an entirely too long amount of time. Steve’s going to think I encountered a damn basilisk or something,” you sigh, shaking your head.

“Do you think he’d even understand that reference?” Tyler asks the room, then turns to Lindsey, “do you think anyones shown him those movies yet?”

Lindsey gives him an odd look, “of course he’s seen them. They are a huge part of this generation, there is no way that no one in his life has shown him the Potter franchise yet.”

Tyler nods slowly, “unless his friends all suck, I guess.”

“Very valid point, Ty—“ Linds starts but you cut in.

“Not important at the moment, guys,” you say as you uncross your arms and point a menacing finger at them. “Now, I’d ask you both to leave, but I know you won’t listen to me. So instead, I’ll ask that since you both are hell-bent on crashing my date, the least you could do is not be so damn obvious about it. Please, no more photos, and for the love of God, do not let Steve know you both are here, got it?”

“Got it,” they both mumble. Then Tyler quietly says, you think mainly to himself, “but Harry Potter is always important.”

You ignore his comment and walk passed both of them and exit the bathroom, not having anything else to say to either of them. Because honestly, it would just be a waste of time, those two do exactly what they want, no matter what you say or how you reason with them. So there isn’t even a point in wasting the breath at the moment. They will stay and lurk on you and Steve either way. However, you honestly wouldn’t change either of them for the world. They may frustrate the hell out of you, but you get them back all the time. It’s a 50/50 thing, for sure.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Steve's POV

The moment she is up from the table and has walked off, he pulls out his phone and brings up the group chat to fire off a message. ‘What the hell are you guys doing here?’

His eyes flick up to watch his friends, as they each pull out their phones and read his text. Then they all look over at him and give him their best innocent smiles, and then his phone vibrates with a message and he glances down to see it’s from Tony. ‘We are just here for dinner, such a coincidence that we happened to pick the same restaurant as you two.’

Steve shoots Tony a glare before checking that Y/N isn’t in sight and standing up to stomp over to their table. “Oh yeah? Just getting dinner, hey? Then what’s with the get ups,” he flicks the obviously fake wig on Bucky’s head, causing the Jerk to swat his hand away just as he continues on to hiss out, “and why the hell is Sam our waiter?”

“Look, Steve,” Nat starts and his heated glare snaps to her, causing her to put her hands up in surrender. “I had no hand in this idiotic plan, it was entirely their idea,” she points at Bucky and Tony, causing the latter to gasp and the former to—well, to look pretty fucking guilty, if you ask Steve. But she just turns back to Steve and continues on, “I only chose to join them to make sure they didn’t fuck your date up too badly.” Then Clint pipes up, also putting his hands up in surrender, “and I’m just here for the food.”

“Traitors,” Tony accuses in a hissed whisper.

Clint just shrugs, and Nat looks at Tony and crosses her arms, “you can call me whatever you like, Tony. But I refuse to get on Steve’s bad side because of your stupid ideas. No fucking thank you, that’s a bullet I won’t take for you.”

Tony shoots her one last glare before correcting his features and turning to Steve, clearly trying to salvage the situation. “We just wanted to be here for moral support. In case you needed any backup. Isn’t that right, Manchurian Candidate,” he elbows Bucky for support, but the Jerk knows that no matter what they say, Steve will be pissed. So best to keep his mouth shut for now, which is blatantly obvious by the way he presses his lips together and refuses to look at Steve.

“Bullshit,” Steve says as he crosses his arms. “Your choice to be here has nothing to do with backing me up, but I don’t have time to stand here and argue with you. I’m supposed to be on a fucking date and I can barely focus on Y/N with you assholes sitting here. So eat your food and get out, we will talk when I get back to the tower,” he says that last part like a threat. They are so fucking in for it when he gets home, and he wants them all to know it. “And tell Sam to let a real waiter take over, I dunno who you all bribed to let you pull this shit, but if a real waiter isn’t the next person to approach my damn table, I’ll be even more pissed off,” then with that said, he spins on his heel and quickly makes his way back to the table. Glad that Y/N hasn’t come out of the bathroom just yet, so she didn’t see him scolding the table of assholes.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Readers POV

You quickly make your way back to the table, seeing Steve sitting by himself and feel like an asshole for taking so long, scolding your shit ass friends. You quickly retake your seat and feel the need to apologize. “Sorry that took so long,” you pause, because what the hell excuse are you supposed to use!? Shit, you should have thought about this before you sat back down! “Ah, just as I was washing my hands, my um, my mom called.” Shit, that was a horrible excuse. What is wrong with you?!

“Oh?” Steve asks hesitantly, “is everything okay?”

“Oh yes, yeah,” you nod quickly. Maybe too quickly but no taking it back now. “She just forgot I had a date tonight, I told her I’d call her back later.”

He seems to give you an odd look for a moment, before finally nodding and glancing around the restaurant. “Does it feel like the food is taking a really long time, or is it just me?”

You glance around as well, not seeing a single waiter or waitress in sight, “no, it’s not just you. I think we ordered like 30 minutes ago, maybe?”

He nods, “yeah, something like that.”

“I’m sure it won’t be much longer,” you comment, trying to be positive. “And it just means we get more time to talk.”

He smiles at you, “well, in that case, let’s hope the food never comes.”

And swooooon. You couldn’t not swoon over his words even if you tried. You give him a grin, and you know for a fact that it’s probably the biggest, goofiest thing he’s ever seen, but you can’t help it. “Fingers crossed,” you trail off from starting a new conversation as you see your, so called, friends doing the walk of shame from the bathroom and retaking their seats at their table. And before you can stop yourself, the words are already leaving your mouth, unfiltered. “Ever wanted to smack someone upside the head with a frying pan?” You abruptly ask, and then mumble out, “Cause I’m getting that feeling right about now.”

Steve snorts and you realize he was mid sip of his beer when you asked, and you watch as he quickly gulps down his mouthful, before his eyes flick over to the table of four for a second, then snap back to you. “All the time, actually.”

You give the table an inconspicuous side eye, and notice there are actually now five people sitting around it. So they have clearly gained another occupant, you see. And, that’s neat. Glad to see the baddies are growing in number. Excellent. Just freaking excellent. This night is not going to plan, not one fucking bit. And seriously, where the hell is your food!?

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Steve's POV

He glances down at the watch on his wrist and sees that it’s now, 7:27. Their reservation had been for 6:30, and so they have now been waiting on their food for at least 40 minutes. He is willing to bet that his ‘friends’ have something to do with why their food is taking so long, just another thing he will scold them all for later.

And the longer the food takes, the more intense of a scolding they’ll get. Mark his words now, this will be the last time they ever pull a stunt like this on him or anyone, ever again. He’ll make sure of it.

“Sorry for the delay,” a new voice chimes in from about them, and Steve glances up to see his first unfamiliar face since the hostess. “Ah, Will had a um, an emergency, so my name is Kyle, I’ll be taking over for him.” He places two new drinks down to replace the now two empty ones. “These drinks are on the house, as an apology for the wait. But it shouldn’t be too much longer for your food to be ready.”

Y/N thanks the new—actual—waiter, and Steve just nods, a small triumphant smile on his face as he glances over at the table, to see Sam now sitting with the others. Good, at least they can still follow orders, that will win them some points with him tonight.

The new waiter—Kyle—scurries off back to the kitchen door and Steve turns his attention back to Y/N. “Did you have a better time at work, this week?” He asks, genuinely curious how this recent week went, since he was more than aware that her last week hadn’t been very fun for her. He’d been meaning to ask about how she was doing with the media and the new popularity all night, as he had worried all week about her.

And just as she started to tell him all about her week, he lifts up his fresh beer and takes a very generous gulp. Only for the fact that as a super soldier, Steve can’t get drunk. At least not off regular beer. Though he furrows his brows once the cold liquid slides down his throat, because—does this taste different than the last beer he had? Wouldn’t they give him the same one he’d ordered before?

He internally shrugs, maybe they just ran out of the other beer so they gave him this one instead. It’s no big deal, he really likes the taste of this new one, and it was free. If there is anything Steve’s learned since waking up from the ice in this new—and expensive—era, it’s that you should never ever pass up free things. So he’ll drink it either way, even if just for that simple fact alone.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Readers POV

After a few more minutes of just talking about both of your weeks, the waiter returns and finally places your food on the table in front of you. And not a moment too late, you were seriously beginning to weigh the pros and cons of cannibalism—Okay, maybe you were going that extreme yet, but you were getting pretty dang hungry for sure.

You and Steve don’t waste a second, and both cease the conversations as you start to eat your respective meals, as the waiter scurries off to wherever waiters go while the patrons eat. Probably to check on the other customers. Your eyes drift back to the table of fo—five now, and you see them all eating their food now as well. So you allow yourself a moment to just breathe, and eat, and pretend like that table still isn’t worrying you. A lot.

After another few moments, and most of both your plates now empty, you see that Steve has finished his beer. But you only make that observation because he accidentally slams the glass down on the table, not breaking the glass, but the look he gives it after the loud clanking bang, leads you to believe he didn’t mean to be that forceful with it.

Your eyes flick up to his face, and you see he is a little flushed now, his eyes a little bloodshot and—wait, is he drunk?

“This food was amazing!” He damn near yells, and yep, yeah, you believe he is in fact drunk. Oh lordy, this should be fun..

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Steve's POV

Something isn’t right. He don’t feel ..right. He glances around the room, but quickly halts his eyes when he feels like the room is rocking. Spinning almost and that makes his stomach do somersaults. His eyes look down to his now empty glass, his brows furrowing, he can’t get drunk. But yet, he feels drunk. He feels just like he did that day Thor let him try the Asgardian mead—his eyes snap over to the table of his ‘friends’ and it instantly hits him—The beer didn’t taste weird because it was different, it tasted weird because they freaking spiked his drink.

Oh, they are so going to pay for this one. He huffs, as he attempts to glare holes in the sides of his ‘friends’ heads. They are all making a point to not look his way, they know they're in shit now. The fuckers—

“Who’s going to pay?”

Steve’s eyes widen as they flick back over to meet Y/N’s. Shit, did he say that out loud?! And before he can even attempt to come up with a quick cover up, his lips are moving and spilling the truth, much to his surprise and dismay. “My horrible friends,” he manages to get a hold of his lips before he says anything more, he presses them together in an effort to keep the rest of his words in. However, the adorable confused expression now on Y/N’s face makes him smile, and he is sure he looks like a crazy person at the moment. But honestly, he doesn’t really care at the moment. Maybe he will later, but not right now. “You’re adorable when you frown,” he chuckles.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Readers POV

You were still trying to figure out what he meant by ‘his horrible friends with pay for this’, but then he has to go and say you’re adorable and that halted all your thoughts, immediately. Damn, who knew you were so weak to compliments. Once again, some journalist you are. Geesh—Focus woman! Your eyes drift back to the table of five, and you give them a more thorough looking over and—holy fuck, is that Bucky Barnes. Wait, wait, wait, and Tony Stark. AND Natasha Romanov. Oh shit, and Clint Barton. And freaking SAM WILSON! Hold up, Sam looks exactly like your last waiter, Will.

And oooooh, it all makes so much sense now. You burst out laughing at the realization that not just your shitty friends crashed this date, Steve’s did too. Oh God, this is just too damn good. “Steve?” You ask softly, bringing his attention back to you. He’d been inspecting the table, as if to make sure it was structurally sound.

“Yeah?” He asks, sounding slightly out of it.

“Question?—err, actually maybe two questions,” you hastily amend and he chuckles.

“Okay,” he nods, a little too quickly, and hiccups as he speaks his next words, “W-what are they?”

“Is that your team over there?” You nod with your head towards the table of five, but keep your eyes fixated on the large blonde.

He scrunches up his face and opens his mouth to speak, but then sighs deeply and lowers his eyes to the table, then mumbles “yeah, it is.” But then as if it just hit him in the face, he snaps his head up and starts speaking again, a little louder this time—read, damn near yelling again. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I had no idea they were going to be here—“

You cut him off with your laugh, and he furrows his brows, his mouth still open as he clearly tries to figure out what’s so funny. You try valiantly to reign in your laugh, but this is all just too damn hilarious. “Y/N?” He asks hesitantly, confusion in his voice.

And you realize you have to say something, anything, so between laboured breaths and chuckles to manage to spit out in a whisper, “see the old couple behind you, a table away?”

Steve’s lips form a frown and he glances over his shoulder, not even remotely in a graceful manner. Then his whips back around and nods at you, “yeah,” he says slowly.

“Those two ‘old people’,” you make quote signs with your fingers, “are my two idiot best friends in disguise. They also crashed our date,” and those words make you laugh all over again at this whole weird situation. Your words clearly take a second to sink in, but as if a light just lit up, Steve’s frown disappears and he starts to laugh with you. Louder than you, actually. And so loud that it draws the attention of everyone in the rest restaurant, including both tables of your date crashing friends. Every last one of them.

“You’re joking?” He manages to say between boisterous laughs. You shake your head as you say, “not even a little bit.”

He laughs a little more, shaking his head as well. “That is too funny.”

You nod, agreeing with him, “that it is. Looks like both our friends are,” you raise your voice so all the people in question can hear you clearly, “nosey assholes.” Though your words are more directed at your two best friends, but maybe also a little at Steve’s. And one quick glance at both tables, and the scandalized expressions around both causes you to burst out laughing again. After a few moments, you both manage to calm down a little, enough to speak again at least. You quickly rub the tears from your eyes, as Steve takes a few deep breaths. Then you think of something, “and here I thought my friends were invasive. At least they didn’t fake being our waiter,” you giggle.

Steve groans, then chuckles a little more, “were you really surprised they’d go to that length? They did sort of force you to goto that press conference.”

“Oh shit,” you chuckle a little more, “I didn’t even think of that!”

“Yeah,” Steve shakes his head, “they are always sticking their noses in other people's lives. It’s rather frustrating,” he mumbles the last part, and you believe more so to himself.

“Wait,” Steve abruptly says, “you said you had two questions?”

You grin, nodding slowly as your second question pops back up into your head. Though you’re going to amend it a little. You were going to ask if he was drunk, but you're positive now that he is. So your question is a little changed, “so I’m guessing they spiked your drink, which means you can’t drive?”

“Shit,” Steve mumbles as his face pales and all the humour leaves his features. “I’m so sorry, Y/N, I can call you a cab, if you want? I’ll pay for it.”

“No,” a sly grin works its way onto your lips. “I have a better idea.” You stand up from the table and Steve slowly stands as well. Though you can see his very evident wobble from the booze. “Come with me,” you gesture for him to join you, offer him your hand for what little support you can give him. Ya know, since he is much larger than yourself, and if he starts to go down, you won’t be able to save him. But the gesture is what matters, right?

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Steve's POV

He is feeling the full effects of the mead as he stands, wobbling a little before quickly gaining his balance. If he falls flat on his face in front of her, he will be out for blood. She offers him her hand and he glances down at the outstretched appendage, then almost laughs. If he does go down, there is no way in hell she’ll be able to stop him, and he’ll just end up taking her down with him. But the chance to hold her hand, can’t be passed up, even in Steve’s mead muddled mind, he knows that fact clear as day.

He smiles and takes her hand, allowing her to lead the way and he quickly realizes where she is taking them. And the slightly panicked eyes of his friends makes him chuckle again. They reach the table of five, and Steve gives a curious look to Y/N, unsure where exactly she is going to take this. But he isn’t gonna lie, he’s excited to see what her master plan is.

“Avengers,” she nods in hello and smiles at each of them.

His friends all give each other strange, nervous looks before Tony speaks up, “Y/N,” he nods then looks at Steve. “Steve.” Before his eyes move back to the little woman holding Steve's hand tightly. “I see you’ve figured us out,” he chuckles awkwardly.

“That I have,” she giggles, “wasn’t too hard, once you spiked Steve’s drink.”

“That was Sam’s doing,” Tony quickly says, earning a gasp from the aforementioned.

“It might have been my doing, but it was Tony’s idea,” Sam quickly defends, pointing a menacing finger at the billionaire. Ugh, here we go again, Steve thinks.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Readers POV

Tony is just about to speak, but you cut in before he can. You aren’t interested in their bickering about who did what, and who’s behind this whole thing. You got enough of that from your own friends. “It’s okay, we aren’t mad,” you glance up at Steve, and see him about to refute your words, but one pointed look from you and he presses his lips together and nods in agreement.

“We aren’t,” he mumbles, the words not sounding overly convincing but it’s the thought that counts.

You bite your lip to prevent the new laugh from escaping. “But,” you abruptly say, “there are conditions to us not being upset.”

And Tony clearly tries to fight the grin that wants to show through, as he narrows his eyes at you, “and those are?”

“Our bill still needs to be paid,” you say calmly, commandingly so that Tony is aware you mean he will be paying it. And as you speak you are fighting to not look too excited for your next words. Tony nods slowly, hesitantly, and says, “okay, and?”

Your grin breaks through, and you see Tony shiver from the smug smile. “Since Steve is unable to drive currently, I will be driving him home and will return your car to you in the morning—“. Tony cuts in, “what? No, no, that doesn’t seem—“. “Tony,” Steve cuts in this time, sternly, clearly trying not to laugh.

“You all were the ones who crashed our date and spiked his drink,” you say, “therefore, hindering him from being able to drive. So these are the consequences, I’ve driven supercars before, so you don’t have to worry about that.”

Tony doesn’t seem convinced, at all, but everyone else at the table seems highly amused by all of this. “I think it’s only fair,” Nat pipes up, a smug grin on her face to match yours. “I agree with Nat,” Clint mumbles through his mouthful of food. Tony shoots them both a glare, then sighs, “fine, you can take the car for the night.”

And you are just about to squeal and jump up and down, when he abruptly adds, “but,” he points a finger at you then at Steve, “if there is so much as a single scratch on it tomorrow, Steve is covering the repair bill.”

Steve gives you a look, one that screams ‘now just wait one second, let’s talk about this a little first’ But you just ignore him, and nod at Tony, “Deal.” And before Steve can say a word, you begin to drag him away from the table, hearing Tony chuckle and say quietly, “I like that one,” to the others. Which only causes your smile to grow as you continue to pull Steve towards the front door of the restaurant.

As you both stand on the sidewalk, waiting for the valet to bring the car around and you are vibrating with excitement! This is your damn dream car and you GET TO DRIVE IT! Aaaaah! Shit!! Is this real life?!—A deep chuckle from beside you, causes you to come back to reality, and you glance up at the tall blonde. This day has been the weirdest one in your entire life, not only did you get to go on a date with thee Steve Rogers, but now you get to drive your dream car?! This is all just too much! Too damn much! But in all the best ways. “Sorry,” you smile bashfully up at him, as you tuck a few wayward strands of hair behind your ear, “I’m a little excited.”

“I can see that,” he nods, a glorious smile playing on his own lips. Just as you are about to speak, the beautiful sound of the supercars exhaust can be heard coming towards you, and before you know it, the Mclaren P1 is directly in front of you. In all it’s shiny black glory, and you are sure you’re dreaming. You have to be. Either that, or you’re drooling.

The valet goes to hand the keys to Steve, but you intervene and take them before he can, and then you get an idea. You quickly unlock the car and open up the door for Steve, who gives you an odd look, so you say with a shrug, “it’s my turn to be the gentleman.”

Which causes him to chuckle and hesitantly slip into the passenger seat then you close the door and make your way around to the driver's seat.

And before you know it, you are pulling up out front of the Avengers Tower. Steve had told you on the drive that he normally lives out at the compound now, but still has a room at the tower and stays there from time to time.

You shut the car off and quickly gesture for him to wait, receiving another odd look from the blonde. You quickly get out of the car and race around to open his door, you are determined to be the ‘gentleman’ this time. Steve deserves as much.

He chuckles again as he clues into what you’re doing, then climbs out of the car and you begin to walk him up to the tower's front doors.

Once you both reach the doors, you halt your steps and turn to him, he does the same but in reverse, halting and turning towards you.

“I had—“. “Thank you—“. You both speak at the same time and laugh, then he says, “I’m sorry, go ahead.”

“I just wanted to say I had a wonderful time tonight.”

“Even with our friends crashing the date?” He asks, one brow raised.

You giggle, “yes, even with that. It made for a very memorable first date.”

“That it did,” Steve nods. “And I just wanted to say thank you, for not only going out with me, but for putting up with my shitty friends.”

You wave it off, “they aren’t so bad. I think it was rather sweet that all of our friends crashed our date. Really shows how much they care, even in their own weird ways.”

He nods again, as he glances down at the ground, one hand coming up to rub the back of his neck, “would you be interested in doing this again sometime?”

You grin brightly, you couldn’t stop it even if you tried. “No, I wouldn’t be interested in doing this again.” Before you can finish your sentence, Steve's head snaps up and he gives you one of thee saddest looks you’ve ever seen in your life. “Just wait,” you giggle, putting your hands up to halt him, “let me finish. But yes, I’d love to go on another date with you, preferably one without our friends being present.”

His frown morphs into a brilliant grin, “yes, no friends on the next one for sure.”

“Okay, well I should get home,” you say reluctantly, “but I’ll call you in the morning before I head over to drop the car off, and maybe we can do coffee and a walk? Just the two of us?”

“I’d love that,” he nods. “And yes, just the two of us.”

“Perfect,” you smile, and lean up to plant a kiss on his check, but at the last second you change course and lightly place your lips upon his. And just as you are about to pull back, his arms move around your waist and pull you into him as he deepens the kiss.

Which yeah, you fucking swoon at that too, and if he were to let go of you right now, you’d melt into the sidewalk. You’d become a human puddle.

But luckily for you, he doesn’t release you right away and you both drown in each other for a few moments before you reluctantly pull back and he does that same. “Goodnight, Steve,” you say softly, breathlessly as you take a step back.

“Goodnight, Y/N. See you in the morning.”

You smile, “see ya then.” You turn and head back towards the car, a skip in your step that you know Steve can clearly see, but you don’t care. You are too happy right now, for a bunch of different reasons.

You glance towards him as you pull up the driver's door and see he is still standing there, watching you, and your tummy does flips. You wave, receiving one in return, then climb into the supercar and close the door.

The whole drive home you can’t wipe the grin off your lips, no matter how hard you try. So maybe you were a little over dramatic in the beginning of this story, maybe you made this night out to be a lot worse than it actually was. Because it wasn’t the worst date you’d ever been on, not by a long shot. It was actually the best, if you’re being honest.

This all started with you being a Drunk Twitter tweeter, and ended with Steve being, well, being Just Drunk honestly. But you wouldn’t change a damn thing, not one second, because even the bad moments all lead up to this glorious one. The start of something so, so special.

And now you have a coffee date with Steve in the morning, and—if you have any say in the matter—many, many more dates to come. This is just the beginning, and you can not wait to see where this all ends up. But something deep, deep down is telling you, that you’re going to love the journey to the end. More than anything, because you’ll get to make that journey beside Steve. And honestly, what more could a woman want than that? Nothing, that’s what.

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

@caps-lockdown @itsstillnotwhatyouthink @tfandtws @boxofteenageideas @wangdeasang @giggleberts @strawberry-gothchild @theonelittleone @agentbadbitch @ratwrites @starrystellars @bandsandanimefreak @rockyroadthepastryarchy @lovvliies @cuffski @icesoccerer @alwaysright4 @lilsthethrills @steeeeverogers @zombiepotterfour @mu-mu-rs @ledandan1244 @straightforwardly @denzmallows @xremember-me-notx @gwynethjodie @lollipopdomination @capstopavenger @jemimah-b99 @rcvenqers @justkending @alagalaska @silent-loucidity @sabertooth-potato @pies-wands-and-more @interstellarmess @gabriella69816 @phantom-soilder @wordlesscaptain @captain-hammer-of-asgard @starstucknature @viarogers @pixieferry @kaithezaftig @the-kinkiest-goblin @hysterically-original @badassbeckettswan @heyiamthatbitch @zlixlle @capsicledoll @givemehopenfandoms @pretendingandpreposterous @frozen-phoenix17 @emotionallysalty @saturngirlz @atomicsludgedonutbiscuit @ivannagotthebeat @bohemian-barbie @marvelous-capsicle @steverogersxreader @cjhorseback @jasminecalia @secondstar2disney @jessiedaeum @betsynodak @capricornprince118 @just-ladyme @pinkleopardss @drayshadow @sister-of-stars @wiserebelpartypie @dark-night-sky-99 @patzammit @cs-please @troublermalik @bratstopmom @anika-ann @wxstedhexrt @rynabarnesrogers @ab-baybay @scentedsongrebel @captainchrisstan @kelbabyblue @fckdeusername @murdermornings @dreamlesswonder86

#steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers au #steve rogers x reader #marvel au #marvel fanfiction #Drunk Twitter #part 3 #Just Drunk #au fanfiction #fanfiction #steve rogers #justkendingwritingchallenge

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makeste · 5 years

Text

BnHA Chapter 262: A Fierce Bad Rabbit

Previously on BnHA: The hospital raid squad, which had two jobs consisting of (1) not letting Ujiko get away, and (2) not letting any of the Noumu break free to go ravage the countryside, impressively failed at both of these tasks (or so I assume) in a remarkably short amount of time. The EndeavorZawaMicLock squad were all occupied with having a very destructive fight in the hospital lobby, leaving my girl Miruko, Goddess of Courage and First of Her Name, to do pretty much all the heavy lifting, which, fine!! Except that Ujiko remembered that he had a bunch of High End Noumus just floating there waiting to be activated, and he was all “!!” and fucking activated them, and like five of them went after Miruko all at once and smashed her into a bunch of machinery and glass tubes, which frankly should have killed her but it didn’t because she’s a fucking boss. But now it’s just her (and Crust, who might do something too, but for now JURY’S STILL OUT) against all these guys while Ujiko speeds off to grab Tomura and abscond. So basically everything that could go wrong has already gone wrong so UH. OKAY.

Today on BnHA: Miruko kicks ass. Then she checks her watch and sees that there’s still time for her to kick more ass, so she does. Then there is still time, because this chapter is all about her kicking ass! So she kicks even more ass!! It’s great!! I have no complaints!! She decapitates a man with her thighs!! That’s a thing that really happens!! Also she loses an arm but WHO HASN’T LOST AND/OR BROKEN THEIR ARMS IN THIS SERIES, REALLY. Everyone is doing it. Somehow she manages to make it look cool because Miruko. Miruko can strangle a man with a cordless phone. She can kill two stones with one bird. Miruko makes onions cry. Death once had a near-Miruko experience. Mirukoooooooo. Anyway the chapter ends with Skeptic warning everyone at The Ol’ Villain Hotel that the heroes are coming, so basically WELCOME BACK, EVERYONE, this manga is back with a vengeance.

guys I’m gonna try to do this recap fast because I’m seeing Heroes Rising tonight at 7:30! and I’m so excited! and for those that asked, yes I do plan on doing some kind of write-up about it, though it’ll all be from memory after the fact so we’ll see how that goes. but !! I’ve waited 84 years for this ahhhhh but anyway so in the meantime let’s see what new and creative ways our heroes are finding to screw this up even more

(ETA: I did it but this thing isn’t edited for shit lol. after I get back I’ll give it a more thorough readthrough so sorry if I missed any really obvious errors! also there are probably way more exclamation points than usual which may or may not be a plus or minus.)

look at this helpful announcement

High End Noumu approaching, everyone. you have been warned. just in case you somehow failed to notice?? IT’S RIGHT THERE Y’ALL LOOK OUT

lmao FINALLY

MORE HEROES. YOU ALL CERTAINLY TOOK YOUR FUCKING TIME, but hey welcome to the party. and none of that “I don’t see how that’s a party” sassy shit either. you all know what I’m talking about so get out there and have fun

so they’re standing there all “it’s a talking Noumu!” and YEAH. that’s what I’ve been fucking trying to tell you. thank god someone finally fucking said it out loud so that hopefully the EZML squad can finally take notice of this as well. like guys. bigger fish?! get to frying!!

so now Crust is all “there are more of them ahead, Miruko’s in danger!” which, again, thanks for finally letting everyone else in on this formerly exclusive scoop there pal. ‘preciate it

I... really do not understand Crust’s quirk at all. I’m just gonna own up to it

what is this. what does “zuga” mean fx-wise. why did those scale things on his arms get so big. what are they made of. what’s happening

oh it turns out that if you scroll and read more instead of pausing for ages to ask dumb questions, the thing you were asking about might actually be explained in great detail in the very next panel

but what are they made out of though. and why “Crust”?? ah well I suppose that’s a question for someone who actually cares more than I do

by the way the quality of this scan is actually really good so far, I gotta say. we’re only two pages in, true, but they either cleaned this up really nicely, or this was a much higher-quality scan than usual. either way I am appreciative!

lol this poor Noumu is shook

what did I name you two weeks ago, again? Rusty?? anyways he’s doing his best you guys. gambare my dude, though actually you do need to die, so that’s too bad though

Crust is all “you pitiful living corpse!” with tears in his eyes because he’s dramatic! but jokes aside I do appreciate that he has compassion for these monsters who are all still basically innocent victims at the end of the day

does anyone else actually hear that funny-sounding anime narrator guy in your head nowadays when you read panels like this lol

I can hear the voice so clearly and it’s great

only ten times the strength of a normal human, guys. that’s actually not that bad. I’m only half joking lol. because obviously your average hero is going to be much stronger than a so-called “normal” person too, yes? and I’m pretty sure Miruko has the strength of like 30 humans but I may be overestimating her just slightly but am I though

oh lol I apparently did not learn my lesson about doing commentary before I’m done reading hahaha

so High Ends are on a different tier of their own above even the “high” tier. well that’s just. yeah that sounds more like the “we’re still fucked” update that I was expecting

oh wait, seriously??

are you telling me that all of the High Ends were actually cultivated from villains? so maybe not completely innocent, then? is this Horikoshi’s way of trying to make us feel marginally better about the fact that the heroes are shortly henceforth going to have to exterminate these guys with great prejudice? I mean they’re still basically slaves to Ujiko’s programming now though so that sucks

also I missed this earlier but the narration here basically just confirmed that Noumu are all made from corpses. which I kind of suspected, but the still-very-much-alive Tomura would then be a glaring contradiction to that, no? or is that why he’s so special. anyway I do appreciate that we’re getting a lot of much-awaited answers in this Noumu arc, but some of this is also just raising more questions. gotta be patient I guess

speaking of Tomura, Ujiko’s back in the Tomura room, so. I assume some absconding is soon to occur

oh shit!! so there’s another panel explaining that “artificial transplant of quirks” requires surgery and then three months of stabilization time following that. sooooo I’m pretty sure this mofo just confirmed that he gave Tomura some shiny additional new quirks, so that’s nice! that’s real fucking great! I know we were all eyeing Tomura skeptically and thinking to ourselves “this is almost just right, but needs more death”

wait, what?

“I was already dead anyway” meaning that he knows there’s no way out for him? and so he doesn’t have a secret way out of the lab?? ??? can that really be true?? our intrepid heroes actually did their job right and the villains had no contingency plan?? oh my god I am so terrified of letting my guard down lmao I still refuse to believe this at all

and is that Tomura who’s at 70% stabilization? that would seem to fit with the timeline we were given. holy shit is he unboxing him early fsdfkjalsdk are we about to go from “fucked” to “exorbitantly fucked”

and why am I strangely excited about it sob!!

HAHAHAHA OH GOD

so this is how liberty dies. with a beep

also fuck you all, now it’s at 71%?! couldn’t leave it at a nice even number for us, could you? you just had to throw that extra percent in there at the last moment to fuck with us all

anyway did you all catch how fucking ripped he was there though? like boiiii whaaaaat. clearly his abs are already at 100%

OH MY GOD

DOES NOTHING FUCKING FAZE THIS BEAUTIFUL, RULE-BREAKING MOTH

HAHAHA

RIGHT??

HOLY FUCKING MOLY

friendly reminder that Dabi was all good and ready to throw down with both Endeavor and Hawks (who were admittedly weakened by that point) that one time a while back, but then Miruko showed up and he was all “lol nope I think the fuck not” and warped out of there. Dabi, whose quirk is so powerful that its only apparent downside is the fact that it roasts him alive as well. that Dabi took one look at Miruko and decided he likes having his spine intact and fucking vamoosed, because that is the smart fucking thing to do when this girl shows up smiling at you the way that she is smiling at these Noumu now

anyway. fucking Ujiko knew he needed at least five High Ends to even stand a chance of slowing her down, is all I’m saying. y’all better respect the FUCK out of Miruko, everyone. it’s the law

anyway. so. quirk: bunny. can smash rl gud

someone needs to ask Horikoshi the fuck kind of rabbits he has been hanging out with. applied that “and more!” part pretty fucking liberally huh. WHO DID YOU SAY TRIX WERE FOR AGAIN, CHILDREN??

NOBODY THROWS MIRUKO IN THE BRIAR PATCH AND GETS AWAY WITH IT

fffwhatttttttttt

that would be our good buddy Max Rebo. so that’s definitely not an elephant trunk-like thing then. we may need a new name for you

on a side note, I never thought we’d meet another character who looks more like Katsuki than Mitsuki does, and yet every damn week Miruko is proving me wrong. goddamn she is great

lmao wait maybe that wasn’t Max at all, but Jester. because this is clearly Max over here

so Girl!Noumu is a water bender, Jester can do... something weird with his hair, and Max can do anything an elephant can do if that elephant was also powered by steam. nice

HAHAHA BUT MIRUKO IS ALL “KICK!!!”

HOLY FUCK HOLY FUCK!!!

HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT. I WOULD READ AN ENTIRE MANGA OF JUST THIS LMAO THIS IS TOO MUCH ADRENALINE I CAN’T

JESTER’S WEIRD SPIKY ROCK HAIR IS SLICING HER ARM AND SHE’S ALL “THAT HURTS YOU JERK!!!!” AND GETTING READY TO FREAKING PILEDRIVE HIM I CAN’T, THOUGH!?

SDKFJLDKSJFLKJ

HER FATHER PEPPY TAUGHT HER THAT. BARREL ROLL ALL OVER THESE BITCHES!!

WHAT THE FUCK

FUCKING QUIRKS!!!! THOUGH!!!! WILLLLLLLLLD

SDKFJLAS;DHK OH MY GOD OH SHIT

real talk this is the scariest fucking quirk I’ve ever seen I was like what the fuck looking at her arm and then I saw him doing the twisty hand gesture and just. fuck. YOU’RE NOT CRIMSON RIOT AT ALL YOU’RE SOME PSYCHO TELEKINETIC BITCH AND I FUCKING HATE YOU!!

NO!!!!!

fuck fuck fuck. I’M SURE HER ARM’S GOING TO BE JUST FINE AND DANDY AFTER THIS GUYS, DON’T WORRY. THIS MANGA HAS SUCH A SERENE AND TRANQUIL HISTORY WITH ARMS. ISN’T THAT RIGHT DEKU

though on the plus side, if she does lose that arm we can count on her to somehow instantly become like 50x more attractive, which I’m pretty sure might cause the very fabric of the universe to unravel but it would be worth it

(ETA: SHE DID AND IT WAS!!)

MADAME PRESIDENT!! MY QUEEN

OH HELL YERRRRRR

fucking hell guys I’m running out of exclamation points and excited things to say here. AND SHE JUST KEEPS GOING! LIKE HER MOM THE ENERGIZER BUNNY BEFORE HER

I’M SORRY UJIKO DID YOU THINK FIVE HIGH ENDS WAS ENOUGH?! MAYBE NEXT TIME WE MAKE IT TEN, HOW ABOUT THAT. FUCK OFF

lmao holy shit I can’t stop laughingggg

well Crimson, at least you get to die happy. is she literally going to crush his face between her thighs. is this entire chapter just one big prank on me. if Miruko was the protagonist would this series have ended in the first chapter. trick question, the answer is it never would have started to begin with because she would have killed All for One years ago!! how much would it cost to hire Miruko to come kick away all of my problems for me

hello good afternoon everyone this is a real panel that really happened in this manga

I don’t even know what to say about anything anymore

sob she’s all “YEAH RIGHT” and SNAPPING HIS FUCKING NECK WITH A FUCKING TRIANGLE CHOKE, THIS IS REALLY HAPPENING, FUCKING LOOK!! AT!! THIS!!!

we’re not even gonna make it to 300 chapters. Horikoshi held off for as long as he could, but eventually Miruko couldn’t be contained any longer and he had to unleash her and she instantly went and reckt every last fucking bad guy out there until there was nothing left. who are the kids even going to fight. nobody that’s who. go back to school kids

SON OF A BITCH WHAT IS HAPPENING

THIS IS THE MOST VIOLENT THING I HAVE EVER FUCKING SEEN AND YET SOMEHOW I SWEAR I CAN HEAR ANGELS SINGING. RESPLENDENT

SOBBING!!!!

“S’POSE I SHOULD GET THIS ANNOYING THING CHECKED OUT BEFORE I BLEED TO DEATH OR SOME BULLSHIT.” WHAT AN INCONVENIENCE. JUST A FUCKING FLESH WOUND. NOBODY USES ARMS THESE DAYS ANYWAY

“IF THE ONLY WAY TO STOP YOU IS BY CRUSHING YOUR HEADS THIS WILL BE WAY EASIER THAN HOLDING BACK ON A NORMAL VILLAIN.” SOB THIS IS MIRUKO’S WORLD AND WE’RE ALL JUST BEGRUDGINGLY ALLOWED TO EXIST IN IT. MY BARONESS

DID YOU JUST TOURNIQUET YOUR DISMEMBERED FUCKING LIMB WITH YOUR OWN FUCKING HAIR ONE-HANDED FFCKCK KCKCLK JUST MIRUKO THINGS

Miruko also saw Horikoshi getting ready to end the chapter after 17 pages and was like “EXCUSE YOU THERE” and he backed off because he actually likes having a fucking head thank you very much

LMAO AND NOW OF ALL TIMES WE’RE CUTTING BACK TO THE OL’ VILLAIN RESORT. SIGH

Skeptic seems to have finally cottoned on to them being in some kind of trouble. huh

how does he know it was Jin who screwed up?? did he realize that Hawks betrayed them oh shit!?!

OOP HE’S SOUNDING THE ALARM

AND THE CHAPTER IS ENDING. BUT I’M NOT DONE SCREAMING. AHHHHHH well anyways I’m off to watch my children kick lots of ass on the big screen. assuming I can get this posted in time with zero editing whatsoever lol I’ve got like... an hour. WE SHALL SEE!

(ETA: we did it lol just barely! this whole thing is probably a giant mess but oh well! Mirukoooooo)

#bnha 262 #miruko #mirko #ujiko daruma #I already forgot his new official name ah well #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste spoiler recap #makeste reads bnha #no time for tags!!#movie!!!!

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dhrdrabbles · 4 years

Text

Four portraits of Astoria were placed across the manor.

Each was beautiful in its own regard – the tall, slender woman being surrounded by peach blossoms, sunflowers, chrysanthemums, and winterberries, respectively. Draco Malfoy had commissioned each portrait of his late wife symbolising a season after she had passed far too young, leaving her grieving husband and distraught son. Draco had wanted to make sure that she would be remembered in every corner of the haunting, old mansion and be a part of their family around the year without seeming eerily misplaced. He had also hoped for a symbolism of eternity – an endless circle of the four seasons, although this notion now struck him as a bit melodramatic.

Astoria had been Draco’s ray of sunshine in an otherwise bleak youth. She was caring, smart, empathetic, and funny. Astoria’s heart was open for anyone and she treated all people and creatures equally respectful. Astoria would listen patiently and give thorough advice even at a young age. Astoria was missed by her family and friends alike, none of which could believe they had lost her so early in life. Her portraits seemed so much more alive, so much more present than other portraits of deceased persons.

So when Hermione Granger, née Granger but ex-Weasley (not by name but by statute), mother of two brilliant children, former minister for magic (the youngest on record even by the time she stepped down on her own accord), acclaimed author, and Draco Malfoy’s new partner in life, first passed one (the spring version) of the portraits she had heard so much about before she first visited the manor (aside from that fateful night over twenty years prior, let’s not discuss it, thank you very much), she was irritated to find that Astoria’s beautiful face (and Hermione was positive that this was not an embellished version of the late Malfoy (junior-)matriarch, this had been her actual face) in a bored but irritable expression.

Hermione passed her quickly then, thinking about mentioning the mood to Draco but quickly deciding otherwise. Astoria had been perfect on every account and Hermione, distinguished former minister of magic and all, had felt quite small every time Draco spoke of his late wife. It was difficult not to believe that Astoria’s grimace had been due to Hermione’s presence in the manor.

Such thoughts plagued Hermione ‘the original overthinker’ Granger until she and Draco had an ‘official’ meeting with Astoria (her summery version) where Draco’s late wife proved to be everything he had made her to be. She was interested in Hermione’s career, but more so her well-being, she was witty and snorted at the right names when Hermione told stories straight out of the Wizengamot. Even her snort was charming. Glancing at Draco during their conversation, Hermione spotted a wistful look in his eyes and she had to admit then that even without knowing her much, she missed Astoria herself.

Hermione was all the more surprised – and irritated, if she was being honest with herself – when she walked past chrysanthemum-Astoria sometime later only to find the other woman rather irritable and tight-lipped again. In this moment, Hermione did not know how to react (or act – situation far from clear: Astoria had barely returned her own greeting) and so she stomped on, inwardly fuming. Was she mad at Astoria for putting on an act when Draco was around? Was Draco part of this scheme and did he care how this made her feel at all?

She was able hold back during dinner and focused instead on Draco’s recital of his new publication on the side effects of pepper-up potion. However, later, she couldn’t get herself to respond to his hands or mouth, made a half-hearted excuse and so they went to bed rather irritated on both sides. Hermione had a hard time feeling bad, even when Draco’s last words before finally falling asleep were “I don’t care if we have sex once a day or once a month, I’d just wish you’d be honest with me”.

When sleep wouldn’t come, Hermione finally made a decision. She slipped out from under the heavy blanket, made sure Draco was still fully covered and tip-toed out of the room.

Astoria looked ethereal in her white dress, sitting on a stone bench, surrounded by masses of snow and framed by little red specks – winterberries. This time, she full acknowledged Hermione but did not speak once again.

I must not be jealous of a dead woman, Hermione had told herself all over all evening and yet here she was, feeling both jealous and nervous in front of a painting.

“Good evening, Astoria.”

“Hello, Hermione. What brings you here?”

Astoria’s tone was levelled and Hermione was even more jealous that the woman in front of her seemed so capable of perfect containment when necessary. During her time in office, she had frequently been criticised for being too emotional. (Too emotional – hah. Hermione usually had gotten angry, linking this label to her femininity and lecturing an overwhelmed Ron about the relationship between emotions and gender. He had trouble understanding. Draco had been with her from the first second – he was now avidly reading de Beauvoir).

“I uhm–“, Hermione began, scolding herself for thinking about jealousy when walking to the portrait instead of coming up with a sensitive question.

“Do you want to know how to please Draco best? I have a few–“

“What? No!”

Hermione had been shouting and now listened carefully for Draco down the hallway, cursing herself mentally for being so clumsy. Nothing happened. Relieved, she looked back up at Astoria who now seemed rather amused.

“I … I’m sorry, this might come across as incredibly rude, but”, Hermione took a deep breath, “are you, by any chance, really unhappy that Draco is with me?”

Astoria’s eyes widened in shock. “What?”

“It’s just…”, again, Hermione had to breathe awkwardly before continuing, “I couldn’t help but notice that you were so lovely when we spoke with Draco, but every time I’m walking past you by myself, you seem … sulking?”

Hermione rolled her eyes inwardly at her own unelaborate phrasing. But before she could correct herself, Astoria had jumped up from her bench (did it look Ancient Greek?) and took a step towards Hermione.

“Hermione, what? I’m so sorry I came across this rude!”

What?

This was surely not what Hermione had expected.

“Oh no, I’m so sorry, truly. I should not have jumped to conclusions.”

Come again?

Hermione’s face must have mirrored her confusion because Astoria now awkwardly shuffled strands of long, dark, straight hair out of her face hectically.

“It’s just that –”

Astoria now seemed lost for words as she helplessly flapped her arms and looked around.

“You see”, she began cautiously, “I was never the biggest fan of flowers.”

Hermione’s eyes widened.

“Of course, they’re beautiful et cetera, but I had a ridiculous hay fever that could barely be treated with potions and my green thumb was non-existent. My relationship to flowers is rocky at best. You’re right, I’m sulking. I know Draco loved me dearly and he wanted the best for me, Scorpius, and himself after I passed. Of course, he wanted to have me portrayed as memorable as possible. But all this”, again, she helplessly moved her arms and Hermione now realised that she meant all four versions of herself, all the flowery beauty, the references to goddesses and eternal beauty and wisdom, “that is not the essence of who I was.”

Hermione had felt foolish already, but Astoria’s final statement was too much. “I’m a family person. I would have pictured myself with them, I guess. And I love Draco. I always will and this is why I will never complain to him. When he told me you were with him now, I was unbelievably happy for him. You do him justice, Hermione. You understand him – maybe even better than I ever did. And I let my guard down because I felt this was possible around you. You seemed to be the person I could trust with my exasperation. I just never mentioned it to you, which was very stupid on my part.”

Astoria now shook her head. Hermione was stunned.

“Flower girl, can you believe it?”

Astoria’s bone-dry tone drove Hermione over the edge. She started giggling. Astoria’s initial silence turned into a hearty laugh after a few moments as well and – to Hermione’s surprise and delight – Astoria let out tiny snorts.

“In all honesty though”, Hermione said when they had calmed down, holding her ribs from laughter. “I do see it. The melodrama and all.”

They kept laughing.

“Feel free to sulk”, Hermione added after a few seconds, luring a few snorts from Astoria.

Draco rolled his eyes and closed the door to his bedroom, going back to bed before Hermione realised his feet were cold when she eventually came back. He should have known these two women were a lethal combination.

Authors notes:

Hi again!

This one was a lot of fun to write, despite containing very little Draco. It’s been a headcanon of mine for a while that he would glorify Astoria after her death (in a universe where their marriage took place and all, that is) and that Astoria herself would feel some kind of way about it, bonding over it with Hermione. Hope you guys enjoyed it!

Also, the initial premise of this blog was once that I would also happilypublish drabbles written by other authors and that I would take prompts. Just so you know. :)

Finally: HELLO to all my new followers! This almost vacant account (revived after six years!) grew by ca. 25% after only one post last week (and this post also became the most successful one to date). Thank you all so much and what a pleasure to have you. I also have a multifandom-blog where I usually am which you can find under @ahoidraco if you’re interested.

Until next time!

#dramione #dhrtag #dhrdrabble #dhrdrabbles #harry potter #hp #hp fanfic #draco malfoy #hermione granger #astoria malfoy

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kkulmoon · 5 years

Text

SUGAR & SALT |”In the winter things brew”(1)

— pairings: a friend of a friend/ rich boy!kim taehyung x baker!reader (f) + park jimin x named OC & kim seokjin x named OC

(appearances by other idols, to be announced when appropriate)

— genre: angst (?), romance, smut (later chapters), slow burn, fluff (occasional)

— word count : 5,197 words

— warnings/content: enemies to lovers (?), slice of life, unrequited love, discrimination (later on), religion (writing about very lightly, so some may take offence), countryside-ish au,

— synopsis: You're a small town baker, whose business is on the line following questionable decisions made by your town's political board. You decide to take action in order to salvage your reputation as the town's favourite baker.

What you didn't expect was to fight for your precious secular life that keeps being invaded by the best friend of the owner of your rivalling bakery, Taehyung. He also happens to be the one in charge of your lack sugar, due to a minor (depending on the point of view) mistake, though he's known as quite the conscientious count.

You're a baker.

A bad one, it seems. Even with Taehyung, Jimin, Seokjin and Ada, the finest products and tools at your disposal, you seem to cook up a disappointing dish. So whose fault is it really?

☁︎ next chapter ☁︎

☁︎ masterlist ☁︎

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You and your roommate, Ada, just arrived at the ski resort. Scraping sounds resound as you drag your luggages and clump them by your respective beds. It's now officially year seven of "Vacation for those with low earning reports", which meant visiting your local (almost) ski resort in Punniton for the seventh year in a row. The first one happened back in your first year of high school after you wanted to feel independent which lead you to meet your best friend, Ada, and planning what turned out to be the most unplanned trip of your life but you still made it. You managed to go and come back and that's what counted.

"Soooo I want to go and check the slopes but I know how you much you like your afternoon nap, so I'll leave you to it." Ada says riffling through her bag for her skiing pants.

You just hum in response, already liking the firmness of the mattress. Though it has been seven years in a row, going to the same resort every winter break, you still adopted your same mundane routine. You change into a cosy fit, and make your way to the lobby to take a look at the restaurant. While you did like skiing, you particularly liked food, so to you, bad food meant a bad vacation. You make a quick beeline for the pastry section and let your eyes get inspired by the plethora of new-age and classic pastries. One of the other reasons you visited the resort each year was to scout any new pastries that you could debut back at home, in the bakery. Punniton's ski resort was known for providing a variety of pastries for its international guests.

So yes, while you did go for skiing the first two years, the remaining five where simply to spark your creative juices in the kitchen, but that's something only you needed to know. Looking at the display had your mouth watering like a Pavlovian dog. One piece before your nap wouldn't hurt, right?

"Could I have a-" you say.

"Could I have a-" another voice echos beside you.

You turn to your side.

"Oh!" the more than familiar male exclaims.

"Woahhhh, Jimin?! like for real, THE Park Jimin!" You lunge at him, wrapping your arms around him.

You feel the vibrations from his chest as his laugh fills your ears. You take a step back, making a thorough examination of your more than dazzling former high school dance partner. You're happy to see that not much has changed, at least not on the outside but he seems to carry an even brighter aura around him.

"Hmmm yeah, it's just me," he says sporting his smug face, one that has had you cheesing ever since you met him for the first time in tenth grade.

His eyes soften and performer Jimin takes the backseat as he asks, "How have you been? It's been a hot minute."

You think back to your high school days and remember Park Jimin before he became Park Jimin. He would squeeze in dance practice before classes started. His weekends were spend in one room, the kind with mirrors and his eyes where always set, burning with passion to make it. With your unassuming character you genuinely thought that someone so ambitious would end up corrupted. You couldn't have been more wrong. Jimin had made it, he was standing right in front of you and it felt like you just left dance practice back in high school and you were on your way to get a bite.

"Good, thanks! But I am feeling a lot better now," you can't help the smile that is plastered on your face, Jimin has always had that effect. "I am still working at the bakery..." you glance at him and you are happy to see that his interest hasn't flattered unlike others, "and I'm head chef now and get to choose what the bakery sells!"

"That's nice to hear Y/N," Jimin says taking an apprehensive look at Y/N.

While Y/N was never one to dream, she still had hopes and fantasies. Something she never knew that Jimin was aware of . Back in twelfth grade, before graduation, Jimin accidentally came across Y/N's recipe log for the bakery. Between the ending pages she had sketched a drawing for a shop sign, specifically a sign for a bakery , on it written "Sugar".

Jimin sighs, shakes his head and asks, "Anyways, to what do I owe the pleasure?" You simply smirk at him.

"No way! You are still doing that???" You nod. "With Ada?" You nod harder as your eyes crinkles.

"I don't know whether to find that sad or cute," Jimin says to which you swat his arm repeatedly as you glare at him.

"Ohhh I see, just cause you became a big city dancer, now you're too good for our cheap breaks, uh?" You stare at him questioningly. Jimin is just about to answer as you raise your hand," Let me just remind you, Mister Park, that you were a part of this the first three years."

Jimin simply answers, "A very proud participant at that," and now it's your turn to look at him with soft eyes.

You look back at the cashier by the counter, " Could I have two slices of the Banoffee pie, please?" You and Jimin glance at each other .

Back when it was the three of you (Ada, Jimin and you), the first food you ate together at the resort was always Banoffee pie. This happened after you found out you all had a bit of an obsession with cream.

Jimin forcibly pays for the pies as you look for a place for the two of you. While Jimin goes to the bathroom and to fetch the cutlery, you sneak a message to Ada.

[17:15] guess who I just bumped into?

[17:16] sweetie 💖really, you know I don't like guessing games ?

[17:17] you don't, expect when it comes to _______ ?

[17:18] sweetie 💖To who?????

[17:19] you're no fun :(

[17.20]Here are some hints: dance, blonde, high school 👀?

[17:21] sweetie 💖Haha, very funny 🖕🏻, but I told you I was over it, it has been like 4 years christ 🙄

[17.23] You known what, whatever 😑 first don't use the Lord's name in vain and second I'll cut to the chase, Jimin, the one who you have had a crush on for almost a decade / our high school friend is here... we're in the lounge area by the restaurant eating banoffee pie, so if you want to join in on an old tradition please do pass by, Miss "I'm in Denial" 😘

Jimin sits down across from you. You talk about his time in the big city, about getting to dance for a living. The more you talk about it the wider his smile gets and the brighter his aura shines. While your modest self can't comprehend the allure of such a lifestyle, you can understand Jimin, and what his dreams mean to him. That's enough for you to mimic his smile.

Just as you and Jimin are about to part ways, you see the familiar bounce of a black bone straight bob heading your way. As you are about to call out Ada's name, Jimin turns his head at the rustling sound of Ada's skiing pants. Now it's your turn to take the backseat. The atmosphere turns silent and calm. The closer Ada gets the stronger her deep breaths resound. You wonder if she is out of breath from seeing Jimin or from rushing to the restaurant to eat some pie. Her trailing eyes gives you the answer.

"Hey," Jimin cuts through the silent with a small wave and a comforting smile.

"Hey!" Ada responds in an overly cheery voice, black hair strands sticking to her forehead.

I told you I wasn't lying," you snap your fingers motioning at Jimin standing by your side.

"I see..." she mumbles while fumbling with the straps of her skiing overalls.

"Are you guys just going to stand there like you don't know each other," you comment and they glare at you.

"What!? you make it seem like you hated each other... I mean the least you could do is like hug or something," you add pursing your lips.

Ada looks at you and her face flinches which means she is suppressing her "Really!?" face. You simply shake your head at her with widened eyes and try your best to suppress a smile.

Jimin takes the first step, contradicting his past behaviour. While Ada is looking for a way to reassure him that he doesn't have to do it and that you are just messing with them, Jimin takes another step, more than he has ever taken. Ada's past betrayals keep her rooted where she stands. Just like a bride, Jimin takes the last steps towards Ada, looks at her, smiles at her and finally sees her for the second time, except this may as well be the first. Ada's arms let go of her strap to smoothen her overall, because now Jimin is looking at her. They stare and end up smiling at each other. As cute at this is, you're growing impatient so you give Jimin a little push. As they engulf one another, it's finally time for all three of you to exhale in unison.

Jimin lets go of Ada to brush his hand through his hair while Ada moistens her lips. He reaches back for a bag beside his chair and extends it to Ada.

"I didn't know Y/N told you I was were. I was planning on giving it to you later. But you're here now so... yeah..."

Ada takes the bag, peaks inside with a nose scrunching smile.

"It's tradition, and traditions should be kept, right?" Jimin questions and Ada's smile flattens a bit.

She sighs and says, "Some traditions are meant to be broken." Ada stares right at Jimin, hoping this time around he understands her.

Inside the bag was a carefully packed slice of banoffee pie.

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A couple of days pass by. You and Ada hit the slopes everyday after your collective morning walks. The two of you soak up the festive spirit of the resort. Christmas is a week away, which means that work is slowly but steadily creeping back into your conscience. But for now, you choose to appease yourself with copious amounts of marshmallow filled hot chocolate and the resort's exquisite selection of pastries.

Today is no different, with your hot chocolate in one hand, you point eagerly at the Yule Log Cake that wasn't there yesterday. The cashier shakes her head at you while cutting into the cake. You sit by the table you and Jimin shared on your first day and indulge in the delicacy in front of you . You're in such as trans that you don't hear Ada creeping close to you.

"Wahhhh!" she screams as she shakes your shoulder. Your cutlery clings as it hits the floor and you involuntarily spit some hot chocolate onto the table. In your moment of distress Ada takes the opportunity to steal a bite of your cake. You put on your blank look and stare at her dumbfounded. She takes a short look at you, smiles and takes a seat across from you.

"Soooo... I know we didn't plan to do anything this afternoon but Jimin hit me up and said that there was a bus from here that would take us to the ice skating rink." She checks if you're doing fine now and resumes, "You know it would be just like our first trip, tradition and all."

"I thought you wanted to break traditions," you say and it comes out more harshly than you intended it to.

Ada rolls her eyes, "Yes, but I was only referring to some not all," and now it's your turn to roll your eyes at her.

"Anyways do you want to come or no?"

"No." you say and Ada ticks her head to the side surprised.

"Well, that doesn't matter, this is my payback for the Jimin stunt you pulled. Here's your ticket. If you don't show up I will expect a refund by the end of the day," she says slapping the ticket onto your right palm.

Ada stands up to leave, as she's walking you shout, " Don't act like you didn't like it," you scoff, how ungrateful can one actually be.

You take a look at the ticket and cringe at the greyish hue on your hands. The only downside of winter. You basically need to lotion up every three hours. You hurriedly devour the rest of your cake and rush to your room to change.

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Everyone is already seated on the bus when you arrive, panting from your little 'run'. You take it as a sign to go easy with the cakes. Your eyes skim the seats, the bus is narrow and hot, and you feel both happy and betrayed when you see Ada sitting with Jimin near the back of the bus. You walk towards them sporting an exaggerated fake smile .

"Hey Y/N!" Jimin says while glancing between you and Ada, checking if the current situation is okay.

You nod reassuringly. To that Jimin points at a mop of wavy black hair infront of him.

"This is my friend Taehyung, he's staying with me at the resort." At that you and Taehyung glance at each to other and exchange courteous and straight smiles.

Taehyung is focused on typing on his phone and you aren't interested enough to reprimand him for using it in a phone free zone. To combat the everlasting presence of smartphones in our modern day to day life, Punniton's Ski Resort decided to place certain phone free zones. It seemed people liked the idea enough since no one has yet to complain. Taehyung however doesn't fit into people. This is something you would come to realize the more you got to know him.

You glance at Jimin with a questioning look and he makes a head motion towards the seat beside Taehyung. You keep bickering back and forth about where you should sit that Taehyung ends up stealing a quick glance at you, but this time he gives you an actual genuine smile, though there's still no teeth. Feeling rude and defeated, you sit yourself down next to him. You try your best to properly fit into the bus seat but your winter jacket, which is slightly too big because you couldn't afford the better model in your size, keeps getting in the way. Finally you give up and simply unzip the jacket.

You're in a phone free bus, in the mountains, so you wonder how the hell this Taehyung dude manages to get a reception, but at least he isn't bored like you. You know who else isn't bored? Ada and Jimin, or as you call them "Admin" because they have been affecting your mood for the past days, but right now is gotta be the worst instance of them all. It's all giggles and more giggles and small claps. All I get when I turn to my left is a man with a handsome face and even better looking hands typing himself away. You wish you could at least have the window seat and busy yourself by looking at the landscape.

You nudge Taehyung a bit, surprisingly he instantly turns his head your way.

"Hmmm..." You start, "not to be rude or anything but would you mind if we exchanged seats," you point as his phone, " since you're typing and I have nothing to do, I would just like to look outside."

Taehyung motions for you to get up with his hand. You step aside, he gets off his seat and you realise that he's at least a head taller than you. You waddle into the window seat and fix your jacket so that Taehyung has enough space to sit. As soon as he sits back down, he focuses his attention back on the typing. Not wanting to disturb him you mumble to yourself, "Thank you."

Ten minutes pass by and you're bored again. You look at Taehyung who has his head leaned back against the seat with his eyes closed. Now that you think about it, despite the endless scrolling and stalking you did on social media you've never seen Taehyung on any of Jimin's social media posts. But you also knew that his social media was more for business than for private reasons. Though you had never seen him before, he definitely looked like a big city boy. He wore classic muted colors, sleek clothing that looked brand new and actually fit him. Between you and Ada, you didn't really care about how you looked from a fashion standpoint, but even with her "low income report" Ada managed to look like she came from the big city.

You, on the other hand, were looking awfully shabby beside the other three individuals. Even if Taehyung himself didn't make you feel this way, just looking at him felt like an insult to your physical appearance. You felt like you were being scolded by your mom to fix your hair, your clothes, your everything, basically fix your entire self.

Now that you think about it, it has been a while since you talked to your mom, you make a mental note to message her when you get back to the resort. You turn around, kneeling on your seat to find out that Ada has dosed off and Jimin has voluntarily remained silent even when he can clearly see that you have no one to talk to. He looks up at you.

"By the way, my mom told me to say hi to you and congratulate you on your sold out show, like a while ago, but better late than never, right?" you say, trying to lift up the mood.

Jimin's eyes are moving around and he's chewing his pinky. He must be thinking about something. Yet he manages, in classic Jimin fashion, to give you his endearing eye smile.

"Well, tell her thank you and that I will come visit her soon."

You give him a shocked face, "Oh so that's how it works, all I need is to compliment you a little and then you will come visit."

You nod your head, "Uh, uh I see how it works."

Jimin glances at Ada before he looks back at you and says, "All you need to do is ask."

You give him a tight smile and sit back down on your seat.

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You wake up from the sudden rush of cold air you feel on your arm. Hastily, you turn you head towards where Taehyung should be, eyelids still dormant and hum softly.

"Errm... Y/N, we have arrived..." Taehyung says poking your arm.

Still drowsy from sleep, you barely register the sound of Ada speaking in the back. You feel a hand touch your hair and instantly you're awake, ready to attack.

Taehyung furrows his brows at your reaction, clearly confused, but still glad that you're finally awake. You don't know Taehyung, so you decide not to punish him for touching your hair, but you do flip Ada off for giving him a green light. She responds by sticking her tongue out. The bus driver's voice echos through the intercom.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have arrived at our stop, Lake Punniton. It's currently 14:13. You will be able to explore the forest and skate up until it's time for departure at 17:30. I would recommend that we gather back here at this same stop,10 minutes prior to the departure time. Anyways, I don't want to keep you waiting, so enjoy your time here. Once again, thank you for choosing Punniton's Ski Resort!"

Soon after his commentary, everyone rushes out of the bus. You step out of the bus and instantly want to get back in there. Your cheeks are tingling and your ears feel like they are practically boiling. Someone pulls you into a side hug as you see a flash go off in front of you. You're about to protest and say that you did not agree to appear in any promotional content for the resort, but you notice that behind the camera is Taehyung.

"I hope you don't mind me shooting you guys, it's not often that I get to take pictures of other people," Taehyung says waving his camera around. It's only now that your mind registers that this is your first time actively listening to his voice.

"Nahh, you don't have to worry. You can take as many pictures as you want so long you promise that we can get them as well," Ada chirps with a sense of new found positivity.

It's official, you think, the Jimin effect is now rooted back in place. While you're happy that Ada is opening up to Jimin once again, you're slightly uncomfortable because of the uncertain outcome of her trust in him. You don't have time to keep pondering on the issue as Jimin pulls the oversized sleeve of your jacket.

"C'mon, let's go!"

You retrieve your sleeve with a simple pull but keep walking towards the rink. Once there, Taehyung hands you a pair of skates and you thank him.

"You're welcome," he says sitting beside you on the bench. Now that he's speaking directly with you, and it is just the two of you, you pay close attention to the characteristics of his voice. Sleek, classically deep, calm and a tad bit emotionless. He sounds good. Not wanting to compliment him, even in your own head, you convince yourself that that is how people from the big city sound like.

Once you're done lacing up your skates, you motion to Taehyung that you're going for a little round. He nods while gesturing at his camera. You push off from the bench and let yourself glide over the frozen lake. The ice is a bit rough but you can't really complain, it's a lake not an actual skating rink. The only advantage to skating in a lake in comparison to a rink, is the unlimited space you get to roam. Obviously some places are blocked because of the unstable ice but there's still a vast part of the lake available. You skate straight for as long as you can while staring at the sky.

"Y/N!" Jimin shouts, "Come over here!"

Jimin and Ada are ahead of you. You pick up the speed only to fumble when attempting a snowplow stop. You inevitably fall on the ice.

"Karma." Ada utters under her breath.

You give her your best stank face while attempting to get yourself back up. You end up falling down again as you get a gush of snow on your face from Taehyung's perfect snowplow stop. You sigh defeated. Taehyung glances at you worryingly. He extends his clothed hand at you. You are mad but not mad enough to freeze your ass off on the ice, so you accept his help. With a strong grip Taehyung pulls you back up.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to ma—"

"Yeah it's okay, as Ada said, karma," you cut him off pointing towards the benches by the frozen lake, "I am gonna go for a walk in the forest, just so I can, you know, clear my mind."

As you skate away, Taehyung makes an attempt to catch up to you in order to give you a better apology but Jimin holds him back and tells him, " Don't worry, it's not you, it's just because you come from the big city".

While Jimin isn't wrong, he isn't totally right either. Yes, you are not fond of him because he comes from the big city, though you are unaware of where he actually lives. You also find it hard to like him because you feel inferior to him. Unlike you, Taehyung actually carries a genuine sense of self-esteem and comfortability with oneself. He was never once, ever since meeting you and Ada, intimidated by your friendship with Jimin. He never showcased an ounce of uncertainty with regards to the activities you've shared so far. You, on the other hand, knew that both Ada and Jimin did not inform you about a forth addition to the trip because that would have been a sure way to keep you seated in the restaurant eating your afternoon and health away.

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Beep! Beep! Beep!

You reach for your phone to stop the timer. You were mad which meant you needed a walk. It had been a while since you had taken one of your timed anger walks. Though now that you have calmed down you realise you were more hurt than mad. Once again, walking blesses you with its magic. It has been twenty minutes, you don't know how far you have walked but your shoes are covered with a thick layer of powdery snow. Unexpectedly, a couple white spots show up on your jacket. You look up to find out that it has started to snow. You should probably head back to the skating area before you get lost.

Scrunching sounds fill the forest as you move forward back to the skating area. Now that you're calm, you know that there really isn't a reason for you to be mad at the situation. Yes, you wanted it to be like old times, just the three of you but that's not how things work. Not for you at least, they have never been how you wanted them. That's how you became so modest.

The area around your neck is white. The melting snow is trickling down inside of your jacket. Damn oversized jacket! You will need to buy an extra large scarf to survive this winter.

By the time you reach the ice skating area, your scarf is very moist, your eyelashes are white and your chin is wet. You sit by the bench to search for Ada's bright red beanie. You had gifted it to her during last years's Secret Santa. Because of this, it was a red knitted beanie with a white motif of a dancer in the center. If she had known it was you, she would have blamed you for reminding her of him.

You can't seem to find the red beanie amongst the crowd. Click. Click. You snap your head to the side to find Taehyung's camera pointed at you. You stare into it. Click. You look away. Click. You stand up to walk away. Click.

Taehyung didn't know you so he could understand your initial dismissal of him. Plus, Jimin had warned him that you weren't very fond of city people but he still insisted that you were friendly. However, you weren't making it easy for him to approach you, let alone get to know you. So he decided to breakthrough in his own way, the one he felt the most comfortable about, by using his camera. Taehyung didn't only approach you to catch your attention but because the scenery, with you on the bench, a slight layer of snow still on top of your tightly coiled ball of hair, would make a great picture.

"Hey! Where are you going?" Taehyung interjects before you manage to go too far.

Taehyung jogs to catch up with you.

"Where are the others?" you ask, hoping he will get the gist.

"They went for a walk," he says keeping it short, just how Jimin told him. "I stayed because I wanted to take some pictures of the scenery," he adds, lifting up his camera to prove his point.

You didn't ask but he still told you. Something you would find out later is that Taehyung often does or says things somebody asked him to.

Here's all you've gathered about Taehyung so far: nice (or at least seems like it), handsome, artistic, big city boy, stylish, confident and persistent. With of all of this, things aren't looking good for Taehyung with regards to the possibility of you befriending him. While Taehyung's profile was far from ideal, there was one big pro that could compensate for everything.

Heis, after all, friends with Jimin. That must mean something?

"How come you decided to follow Jimin here?"

Taehyung turns his head towards you, a smile tugging at his lips. "Nothing in particular honestly, I was free, Jimin offered, I accepted." Taehyung shrugs his shoulders. This is something Jimin would let you know. Things with Taehyung were often like this, meaning easy.

"That's nice, I guess..." You think you should add something to fill up the silence but there's nothing to be said, so you make shit up.

"Be honest. This must be a downgrade compared to what you are usually used to, right?"

Small ridges forn around Taehyungs nose and under his eyes. Oopps... really Y/N!? You couldn't get your discriminatory ego in check.

"I'm so so-" you start.

"No need to be. I mean, you're not totally wrong," he counters swaying his head side to side.

You turn to look at him, eyes wide. Taehyung looks back raising his eyebrows with a close mouthed smile that accentuates his bread cheeks.

"Ahhhh, how dare you, "you respond with an exaggerated scoff. Now, Taehyung eyes's crinkle and you snicker lightly.

Okay, maybe if you gave yourself some time and a healthy dose of welcoming energy, you and Taehyung could become more than just acquaintances. Not exactly friends but not strangers either.

"First of all, please do not post those pictures of me." You turn to stare at your shoes. "And secondly, I'm sorry for my behaviour, that is, my unwarranted bias towards you"

"No worries, it's all already forgotten." That's another thing Taehyung does a lot, forget on demand.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You and Taehyung are seated at a table in the eating area by the bus top when you see Ada and Jimin walk towards you.

"Feeling better, Y/N?" Ada asks.

You dismiss her mocking tone. "Yes, I was until exactly 5 seconds ago." You turn to look at Taehyung and take a deep breath.

"Much better," you say.

"Uh oh, I see you have broken the barrier." Jimin smiles at the two of you. "That's great, in fact fantastic! It will make the journey back home sooo much easier," he says visibly relieved.

"What do you mean?" You look at Jimin questioningly.

"He didn't tell you?" he says, looking at you. Turning to Taehyung, "You didn't tell her?"

You wave your hands around.

"Taehyung lives in Warringham," Ada swiftly adds.

Before you have the time to interrogate Taehyung, he's flying off the seat frantically searching through his bag and his jacket.

"What is it?" you ask.

Taehyung doesn't answer. You look at Jimin and he shrugs.

Taehyungs is in frenzy mode for a good five minutes before he calms down. Though I doubt it's because he has solved the problem.

The driver calls for everyone to get back on board. You hurry inside before everyone gets in to get the best seats, the ones at the back.

Though you did not talk about it, you assume the same positions you had on the journey to the lake. It was as if you had gone back in time, experiencing déjà vu. Jimin and Ada are laughing except this time they are beside you, and Taehyung is frantically typing himself away. Only this time he looks worried.

Now that you're in the bus the barrier between you and Taehyung has rebuilt itself and you don't dare to ask him if everything is alright. This will happen a lot of times between you and Taehyung. A constant cycle: open, close, open, close, open and repeat.

You are all seated down in the bus, three best friends and a spontaneous add-on that currently look very distressed. Only you didn't know that the add on would end up making you similarly distressed, if not more.

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— a/n: thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed the first chapter ! Any sort of feedback is appreciated. I do tend to mix the reader’s POV with third person omniscient POV.

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ineffably-good · 4 years

Text

Prompt: Glorious

This is part two of my last prompt, which you can read here.

Part of the Good Omens 30th Anniversary celebration prompts. You can read all of the ones I’ve completed over on AO3!

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Part two: Project Heavenly Slumber

Crowley was in Baghdad in the court of Mamun the Great, giving his best effort toward whatever it was demons did – foster discord, disrupt the rule of law, interfere with justice, Aziraphale wasn’t sure. He miracled himself into the outskirts of town, where he’d sensed Crowley’s presence. He found him haggling with a merchant over a pile of dates. The demon had always had a sweet tooth, although he’d deny it vociferously if cornered about it.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale said, touching him on the sleeve. “How lovely to run into you!”

“You didn’t run into me,” Crowley said, not missing a beat as he handed over his pile of coins and took the bag from the vendor. “I felt you appear just a second ago. You’re here on purpose. Come to oversee the translations, I suppose?”

Aziraphale blinked. “Translations?”

“Oh!” Crowley grinned. “All kinds of fantastic things are going on here – they’re building this thing called The House of Wisdom. Big building full of scrolls! Translating all the texts from Greece, Persia, Sumeria. Been wondering when you’d show up – right up your alley!”

“Oh dear,” Aziraphale fretted. “And here I am stuck in the courts of Charlemagne overseeing stupid wars and conquests! I’d much rather be here! If only we could switch assignments!”

The demon smiled rapaciously. “We could undoubtedly work something out, angel.”

“Oh now,” the angel replied, retreating into his prim default. “That won’t be possible and you know it. But I did come here to seek you out.”

“Oh? Missed my sparkling personality?”

“Hardly,” the angel said. “But I need your advice. I’ve gotten myself in rather a pickle. Is there somewhere we could go to talk?”

Crowley laughed so loudly and for so long that Aziraphale began to feel quite annoyed. He helped himself to another generous serving of Crowley’s precious date wine, drank it all in one gulp, and then sat back in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest.

Still the demon laughed.

“Oh – oh my –” Crowley moaned, wiping his eyes and beginning to calm down. “So sorry angel, but that one is a knee-slapper! Gabriel and his glorious presence overpowering the infant Yeshua into unconsciousness!”

Aziraphale giggled a little too at that one. It never got old.

“And – and now –” Crowley tried to regain breath control, but he was still half-laughing. “And now you’ve got to go teach a bunch of idiot angels how to sleep? Oh, for Satan’s sake. I wish I had your job sometimes. No one in Hell ever says anything funny.”

“Yes, well, that’s the problem you see,” Aziraphale said insistently. “I can barely sleep myself! Hardly ever do it. I was hoping you might have some pointers for me?”

Crowley noticed the low level of the wine jug and waved a hand to refill it to the top, then poured himself a mug of it. He took a sip while thinking carefully.

“I suppose I could teach you a few things,” he said. “Things I learned in China. Breathing techniques. Ways to calm the body and achieve other states. A little bit of hypnotic suggestion, perhaps?”

Aziraphale wrung his hands. “Oh dear, I would be so grateful. Anything you have, anything at all.”

Crowley nodded. “When do you have to report in?”

“Tomorrow!”

“Well then,” the demon said, “we’d better get started.”

Aziraphale left Baghdad armed with a sealed jug of date wine, several interesting new relaxation techniques designed to help ease anyone into a peaceful sleep, a scroll or two with some interesting guided incantations in them, and a small packet of a powder that Crowley promised would be safe but which he doubted he would ever feel brave enough to use. He still had his doubts about the demon’s intentions from time to time, and he certainly didn’t want to go down in infamy as the angel who got everyone in Heaven hooked on narcotic powders.

He made his way back home, left instructions with his secretary for things to be done in his absence, and then made a show of riding off on his best horse as if he were off on his travels. Once he was firmly out of sight of any and all of the humans, he set the horse free with a gentle command to find its way back to the stables and blend in, and miracle himself up to Heaven to begin his great and glorious work.

Gabriel was in that irritatingly heightened state he got into when he had come up with another new idea for team building or motivating his underlings. If regular Gabriel was hard to deal with, excited Gabriel was almost unbearable. He all but vibrated with self-importance and celebration, bestowing smiles and hearty claps on the shoulder to anyone he met.

“Principality!” he boomed jovially. “Glad you made it on time. Let me show you to where you’ll be working.”

He led the way through a winding series of corridors, each nearly indistinguishable from the next, past the library and on into an area Aziraphale had only rarely visited before – some kind of large, empty conference room, all white and chrome like the rest of Heaven, barely furnished except for a large stack of pillows and blankets someone had thrown in the middle of the room. Sitting in a half circle on the floor around the pile of bedding were eight nervous looking angels, low ranking guardians and office workers, obviously pulled from other duties and deposited here.

“Interns,” Gabriel announced. “This is Principality Aziraphale, former Guardian of the Eastern Gate, and our premiere expert on humanity. He’s here to introduce you to a human concept called sleep. Please give him your full attention and cooperate with everything he asks of you on this glorious new work. Questions?”

The angels jittered nervously and one fearfully shook her head. Aziraphale thought wryly that this was nearly the nicest thing Gabriel had ever said about him.

“Good then!” Gabriel said, whapping Aziraphale on the shoulder rather painfully. “I’ll check in on you later.”

He strode out of the room and the door sealed behind him.

“Good morning,” Aziraphale said nervously. “Shall we go around and introduce ourselves?”

As the day went by, the gathered angels got less and less fearful. Most of them hadn’t met a Principality before, Aziraphale realized, and they were naturally deferential and timid. Over the course of a few hours, though, they began to loosen up and to realize that this angel, in particular, welcomed questions and comments.

After a few stretching and breathing exercises, one of them raised her hand and waited patiently to be noticed.

“Yes, Anielle is it?” Aziraphale said.

“I’m terribly sorry, Principality Aziraphale,” she said quietly, “but I don’t understand. What is sleep FOR? And why are we supposed to learn how to do it?”

Terribly good question, Aziraphale thought. He tried to remain professional, despite his doubts about the entire project. “No one really knows what purpose sleep serves, but without it humans sicken and die. Also, many of them seem to enjoy it immensely,” he said. “I believe the archangels think we might be able to influence the dreams of sleeping humans, to – well, to guide them towards goodness and help counter demonic influences.”

Another angel raised his hand.

“You don’t really need to raise your hands,” Aziraphale objected. All eight pairs of eyes stared at him uncomprehendingly. “Or for Heaven’s sake. Yes? Plavian?”

“Could we perhaps use it to frighten them back into the path of righteousness, as well?” the angel asked. “In extreme cases of course. Using the nightmares you mentioned earlier?”

About half of the other angels tittered approvingly. Anielle, to her credit, looked upset.

This Plavian, Aziraphale thought, had a bit of Gabriel in him. He was undoubtedly going to be moving up in the chain of command. He could smell the wanker gene on him from here.

“Humans can react very poorly to nightmares,” Aziraphale said crisply, “and providing and worsening them is really more of a demonic tactic than an angelic approach. We’ll focus on methods that don’t actively damage anyone’s psyche. Our Heavenly Mother wouldn’t want us to harm them.”

He stood up. “Now,” he said, “everyone take a blanket and a pillow and find a space to lie down. We’re going to try some relaxation exercises and see if we can get any of you to fall asleep.”

Nothing worked. Nothing. They tried breathing exercises. They tried guided relaxation. They tried tensing and releasing each muscle in their bodies, starting with their feet and working their way up to their eyebrows. They tried calisthenics. They tried music. Finally, in desperation, Aziraphale magically dimmed the lights and read them all a story. He tried to pick a soothing one. A Tale of Two Cities should do, he thought.

The room was quiet and there was deep, even breathing all around when Aziraphale finished chapter two. He softly closed the book and stood up as quietly as possible, peeking around in the dim light. All eight of the angels were still, their hands folded on their chests, their eyes closed.

Were they – were they doing it?

As he leaned closer to the angel nearest him, he noted that she opened one eye just a crack and grinned up at him.

“I think I’m doing it!” she stage-whispered to him. “It feels really good!”

“It does!” someone else echoed from a far corner of the room. “I think I’m sleeping!”

“Me too!” said a third.

Aziraphale tried not to tear his hair out.

“Class dismissed for today,” he said. “Go home and try some of those relaxation exercises in the peace and quiet of your own abodes. We’ll try something new tomorrow.”

“You want to do what?” Gabriel said.

“I want to bring in a meal for them,” Aziraphale said patiently. “Food makes humans tired, so maybe it will help get them into the proper state.”

Gabriel frowned. “This is highly irregular,” he said, “corrupting them with gross matter.”

“You did want me to be thorough,” Aziraphale said primly.

Gabriel waved his permission, and Aziraphale got to work.

“Welcome back!” he said the next afternoon. “Today we’re going to expand our horizons a bit and try a meal.”

The angels filed in, looking curiously at the table Aziraphale had set up and its contents.

“What’s a meal?” one of the angels asked.

“It’s food! Humans consume it for sustenance.”

“So, it’s like the word of God?”

Aziraphale frowned. “Not exactly. Anyway, please take a seat around the table and let’s get started.”

He walked them through consuming a variety of dishes, taking a nibble here and there himself – fruits and vegetables, savory pies, cheeses and breads in various forms, sweets. The angels gamely tried everything, most of them looking somewhat unimpressed and trying to hide their distaste for the experience. One or two of them, though, took to the meal with slightly more gusto, taking seconds of some dishes and seeming to enjoy themselves. Aziraphale took note of these ones; they were potential future allies in his endeavors, he thought, and unlikely to be appreciated here in Heaven.

After they’d finished, they did some stretching and then he lowered the lights, had them all lay down, and he led them through the relaxation program from the prior day. He hoped that being warm, comfortable, and full would ease a few of them into sleep.

Aziraphale found himself fighting off a yawn. He really had been working frightfully hard the last few days.

The principality woke up some indeterminate amount of time later with the most terrible sensation of being watched. He opened his eyes in a panic and found himself ringed by his students, with eight pairs of eyes staring down at him in complete fascination.

Aziraphale pushed himself up to seated.

“Oh, for Heaven’s sake,” he said. “Did anyone besides me sleep?”

“No,” said one of the students. “But you did it very well, sir!”

“You were making the most curious noise,” another one added. “Kind of like this.” The student opened their mouth and started to make a rumbling noise that sounded a bit like an earthquake.

“No, I think it was more like this,” the original student one said, emitting a noise like a kitten purring, but loud.

“And you seem to have created a liquid,” added a third student. “It dripped out of your mouth onto your pillow. Is this part of the process?”

“We tried to touch your dreams,” Plavian said, “but it didn’t work.”

“NO ONE TOUCHES MY DREAMS,” Aziraphale said, leaping to his feet. The students backed away nervously; they had heard what a principality was capable of, in the general sense, and even more, they had all heard strange stories about Principality Aziraphale and his flaming sword. No one really wanted to see him angry.

“Oh, very well,” he said, pulling a leather pouch out of his robes. “Let’s try a little chemistry, shall we?”

“So in total,” Michael said sternly, “you’ve taken eight of our most promising young angels, sullied their corporations with cheese and bread, led several of them to believe that food is equivalent to the word of God, taught them heretical chanting techniques from the Eastern empires of Earth, and gotten several of them severely addicted to opium powder. Is that correct?”

Aziraphale looked at his feet and tried to appear repentant while inside he focused on one thought and one thought alone. He was going to murder the demon the next time he saw him. This was all his fault.

#goc2020 #good omens #good omens fanfiction #Aziraphale x crowley #heavenly projects #angel interns #hijinks ensue

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soveryanon · 4 years

Text

Reviewing time for MAG180!

- I really like how the statement really felt like a story advancing logically and through space, with its own codes; it felt a bit closer to my own nightmares, progressing, moving forwards, shifting a bit as the protagonist was forced to adapt and conform to exterior rules (which were never questioned), aware of the potential transgressions, that anything and anyone could punish them if they overstepped (the graves were listening, the angels were eager to punish, the reverend controlled the respectful pace and the words, the crowd was ready to judge, the alleys were full of danger, the dead mother was ready to attack). I really felt the dream-logic in that one, the immersion into an odd universe ruled by another logic than the real world?

… And that rule was the “NIHIL NISI BONUM” (from “De mortuis nihil nisi bonum”, “of the dead: nothing but good”) even when it was destroying the victim from the inside. Obviously, the fact that they were in a necropolis, that there were corpses haunting the living, that it was about a funeral ceremony, would point towards End; but it really felt Web and Beholding to me, too, with the idea of getting trapped in a situation and having to perform, and the sheer weight of the stares and the permanent judging?

(MAG180) ARCHIVIST: “The names are carved with steady-handed reverence, and the dates do not make sense, but… [WOOD CREAKING] bite your tongue. [CHAINS CLINKING] Read the epitaphs quietly to yourself, in a respectful, solemn whisper – “loving son”, “noted philanthropist”, “honoured hero” – and do not question them out loud, for these graves… they are not silent. They are listening. Stop a moment and see the stone angels perched above you, staring down from the harsh corners of each mausoleum roof, looking out over the avenues of darkened […]. They keep their eager vigil, desperate for a comment, a word, a breath out of place against which they might strike. […] Walk faster now. Pick up the pace. For not all the tombs are silent, not all the graves are at peace. […] Don’t mention it. No point making a scene. The angels wouldn’t like it. Besides, those are the tombs with the longest epitaphs; so they must have been good people. […] The faceless gaze of each sepulchre angel fixes itself upon you, and you feel yourself turning back towards the house, though every muscle in your body screams at you to run. Instead you nod, and apologise for your lateness. [ANXIOUS, DEEP BREATHING IN THE BACKGROUND] The angels look away, and you step across the threshold. […] He leads you through the winding house towards the memorial room, the thick carpet crunching under your feet so loudly that it makes you wince, certain that it calls all attention to you. The Director’s steps are silent and dignified, the heavy fabric of his dark suit still and crisp as cold iron.[…] One hundred and sixty pairs of misty eyes follow your slow procession down the room, bile rising higher and higher with each row you pass. Fifteen left, you can make out her hair, still the cold grey you remember so vividly. Ten rows left, and you can see her mouth, those lips that hide the grin that now flashes thorough your memory. Five more, and you can see her eyes. Why are her eyes open? They are lustreless, and clouded, but still contain the cruelty you saw when she held the knife. […] He places you behind the podium, as the mourners stare at you, and you realise with a stab of agonised dread that they are waiting for your eulogy, their faces alight with hungry grief. […] Behind you, a dark shadow moves, [WOOD CREAKING] a shape that seems to slither from the coffin. [GROANING GURGLES IN THE BACKGROUND] You watch it coming closer from the corner of your eye but you cannot stop your kind words.”

(Hell Is Other People.) What hit me most in this one was the feeling of never managing to escape, the slow anguish and despair (while it wasn’t a quick pursuit nor a hunt!); the idea of having to conform to rules, of being imprisoned by other people’s eyes (“though you know that nothing escapes his eyes.”); the implacable neatness and order all around; the sudden mention of the abuse they had suffered from their mother (which… helped so much to recontextualise their dread) and the fact that even (especially) after death, nobody was ready to acknowledge it or to let them denounce it (the angels were ready to strike); the protagonist having to Perform like the others and pretend to negate what had been done to them; the fact that they saw their dead mother rise and come towards them… and couldn’t do anything about it. That crunch was AWFUL. Little apocalypse reference with the crowd (“The mourners are all lined up so very, very neatly, four chairs either side, twenty rows deep. […] One hundred and sixty pairs of misty eyes follow your slow procession down the room”), since it happened on the 160th tape… and sneaky sneaky spiders with the maths: it means 80 people on each side, and 8 eyes on each row on each side! =D

Another little thing which Got Me, too:

(MAG180) ARCHIVIST: “‘If you would like to say a few words…,’ the Director commands.”

“if you would like” but “COMMANDS” (it wasn’t a choice.); the shortness of breath conveying the anxiety, starting mid-statement, which was… unsettling and indeed anxiety-inducing.

When it comes to sound: once again, Jon’s statement “created” the soundscape! It was gradual: the cries of birds were different from the ones we could hear around Jon&Martin before; then we heard the footsteps; then we began to hear the occasional wood creaking, the chains clinking, the stone scraping, the gurgles, and the crowd whispering. Big YIKES moment there:

(MAG180) ARCHIVIST: “Just knock and ask to enter. Or try your best not to hear, to think nothing but good and admirable thoughts of those who wait in monuments to their own virtue. [GRAVEYARD SOUNDS AS THE WIND GUSTS, CHAINS CLINK, WOOD CREAKS] There now, a face, pale and stained with age and death and sin – no, not “sin”, never sin. [GURGLES IN THE BACKGROUND] Misjudgement. Indiscretion. Misunderstanding. Never sin. Never evil. It grins and smiles and nods its head with broken yellow teeth. It is a smile that wants you closer, wants you near. A bloated, purple tongue that tries to whisper reassurance, but can only gurgle promises that smell like sour fruit.”

… because with the chains clinking, we could see the denegation through the sounds and/or the creature potentially getting annoyed.

(- AHAHAHHA SOB that the statement’s climax was about a forced eulogy about someone who had been awful and continued to hurt the protagonist even after death… in the episode right after Daisy’s death. Daisy who had hurt Jon. Complicated relationships, complicated mix of feelings – although the mother from the statement was an “a monster, brutal and unrepentant”… while Daisy, the real Daisy cut from The Hunt, was repentant. Even Peter had made a jab about it (MAG134: “And he even brings a Penitent Thief along, in the form of your pet murderer!”).)

- Regarding sounds! I really like how we could hear Martin run or accelerate his pace thanks to the sound of his bag, early in the episode!

(MAG180) [CLICK–] [FOOTSTEPS CRUNCHING ON GRAVEL, AS THE WIND WHISTLES] [BAG JOSTLING] MARTIN: Hey, hang on! ARCHIVIST: Oh! Right you are. MARTIN: Sorry, I just… don’t want to lose sight of you, you keep… disappearing behind tombs and that. ARCHIVIST: I’ll try to slow down. [FOOTSTEPS STOP] […] [FOOTSTEPS RESUME] MARTIN: … Yeah, all right. [INHALE] Come– Hey! Hey! I said slow down! ARCHIVIST: S–sorry. MARTIN: H–how exactly does a leg wound make you faster? ARCHIVIST: I just want to get through here quickly.

Small thing I appreciate, too: the fact that Martin used to be more angsty about Jon leading and him following…

(MAG170) MARTIN: Why am I here? I… I, I fell behind. I was, I was too slow, and, and, and the fog caught up, I was… I was following, al–always following, never leading; never leading. Why did he leave me behind? Di–did he? Who we, who, who are you? Who am–?

… but also/now doesn’t hesitate to voice when Jon is going too fast for him <3

- It’s terrible and amazing how the episode managed to be both gloomy and funny, since:

(MAG180) MARTIN: Sorry, I just… don’t want to lose sight of you, you keep… disappearing behind tombs and that. ARCHIVIST: I’ll try to slow down. [FOOTSTEPS STOP] MARTIN: … Thank you. [INHALE] I really rather not end up lost in a… what did you call it? ARCHIVIST: A necropolis. It’s like a cemetery but all the tombs are above ground. [INHALE] New Orleans has a very impressive one. Or… had.

They were almost (unwillingly) playing hide-and-seek in a necropolis.

- Martin’s list of vocabulary when it comes to Jon’s activities during the apocalypse:

(MAG164) MARTIN: I don’t, I don’t feel fine, okay, and you were there a long time doing your… y–you–your guidebook, which, you know, I get it, but that place is…

(MAG168) MARTIN: Right, yes, yes, of course. You… [INHALE] You vomit your horrors. [SIGH] ARCHIVIST: [REVULSED SOUND] Uh! I’m… not sure I like that metaphor…! MARTIN: “Puke your terrors”? ARCHIVIST: … Just go.

(MAG177) MARTIN: [SIGH] It’s… It… He needs to make a statement. BASIRA: Is that like a euphemism, or…? MARTIN: Ew, no! It’s, hum… He sort of describes the place he’s in to the recorder and… Look, it’s–it’s, it’s magic Eye stuff, he can’t help it. He needs to do it, and if he doesn’t… ARCHIVIST: [FAINT GRUNT] BASIRA: He gets constipated? ARCHIVIST: Hardly! MARTIN: Actually, yeah, basically. ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] BASIRA: Right.

(MAG180) ARCHIVIST: No, obviously. This place is a manifestation of– MARTIN: No. Nope. ARCHIVIST: … I understand. Of course. MARTIN: Sorry, I’ve just… [INHALE] I’ve been hearing altogether too many of your statements lately, and– ARCHIVIST: Yeah, no, no, I– MARTIN: –yeah. ARCHIVIST: I, I get it. MARTIN: Just… a little break. ARCHIVIST: That’s fair enough. MARTIN: In fact, this time, when you start to… intone… ARCHIVIST: [AMUSED HUFF] MARTIN: I’m going to find a nice soundproof mausoleum, and just… just chill, with whatever horrors they’ve got lurking in there!

No respect for statements, uh. (I feel like Martin was talking even more casually than usual, early in this episode? He contracted words a loooot!)

Still glad that Martin doesn’t hesitate to say no, and that he doesn’t want to hear about this stuff! Although I’m a bit worried, still, of him… being back to removing himself when Jon gives his statement – it still really feels like at some point, Jon will come back from the statement only to discover that Martin is gone or has been attacked… ;; (We know from MAG179, and Basira sneaking on him, that Jon is unaware of what is happening around him when he is engrossed in one.)

- JON AND MARTIN WERE SO ADORABLE, GOSH?!

(MAG180) MARTIN: Maybe play a bit of “I Spy” or something. ARCHIVIST: [CHUCKLES] MARTIN: … I–I’ll start. I spy, with my little eye, something beginning with… T– ARCHIVIST: Tombs. MARTIN: … Cheater. ARCHIVIST: [INDIGNANT] I did not!

Playing lil’games!! I love how “I Spy” felt like a reference to something-Martin we had on Patreon, to Beholding watching everything, and potentially to The Web (“I spy, with my little eye(s)…”). I love that Martin was super-predictable, since going with “T(ea)”? Jon knowing him too well? Their banter, Martin’s inconsequential accusation, Jon sounding SO OFFENDED (hand-on-heart, perfect picture of Victorian offense, in my mind!). And Jon’s sense of humour?!

(MAG180) MARTIN: … Your turn. [BAG JOSTLING] ARCHIVIST: Fine. I spy, with my little eye… Literally everything. [MARTIN LAUGHS] [THE ARCHIVIST LAUGHS] [A NEARBY TOMB LAUGHS] [LAUGHTER STOPS WITH TENSE SIGHS] MARTIN: Right. [SIGH] Sorry. Forgot. [SIGH] Levity is just… off the cards. ARCHIVIST: Mm-mm! [SIGH]

Martin used to not get it (MAG088: “I don’t think I’ve ever heard him tell a joke.”), but now he sure does!! I love that Jon deadpanned and used his Serious Archivist From Season 1 voice for it, it was adorable and so silly! Their laughs were so adorable!

(… And then the seriousness struck, reminding them of where they were. Apocalypse not giving Martin a break, uh.) (But eh! Jon even makes eldritch horrors laugh at his jokes!)

- I’m a bit surprised that Martin was having trouble with what had happened:

(MAG180) MARTIN: [LONG SIGH] ARCHIVIST: How are you doing? About… MARTIN: Yeah, yeah. Yeah. I’m… I don’t know. I’m–I’m not sure how to feel; just… pressing on, you know? ARCHIVIST: I do. [SILENCE] MARTIN: Do you think she’ll be okay without us?

Was it just about leaving Basira behind? Or was it about Daisy’s death? I was suspecting that Daisy having to die might be a bit of a shock for him (… since he had expressed multiple times wanting to make things “better”, and Daisy was a case of… it not being possible, with the added fact that it was also putting to mind of Jon’s own situation), with a potentially delayed response, but nothing explicit in that regard so far. He was a bit closer to Basira, and clearly upset and worried over her going solo again for a while, so it’s understandable ;; Jon had mentioned he had trouble expressing his own feelings:

(MAG167) MARTIN: Okay, so how exactly would you describe your current emotional state regarding all of this? ARCHIVIST: I… MARTIN: Go on. I’m all ears. ARCHIVIST: I feel… MARTIN: Mm–mm? [FOOTSTEPS STOP] [BAG JOSTLING] ARCHIVIST: [FRUSTRATED EXHALE] I feel… sad. [SILENCE] MARTIN: Sad. ARCHIVIST: Very sad. [BAG JOSTLING] MARTIN: Very sad. ARCHIVIST: Yes, all right, point taken.

(MAG179) ARCHIVIST: Is it… Is it awful that I wish she’d recognised me? MARTIN: Daisy? ARCHIVIST: Yeah. I mean, she was… We were friends there, sort of, near the end. We went through so much and it just… I wish I could have actually said goodbye. MARTIN: Would it have made you feel any better about any of it? ARCHIVIST: I don’t know. Maybe? It’s hard to know how I feel about… anything these days. [SILENCE] MARTIN: We said our goodbyes to Daisy after the institute. This was just… This was just dealing with all the stuff she left behind. ARCHIVIST: … I suppose.

So they’re the same in that regard. Still glad that they notice when the other isn’t talking much about what they’re feeling, and convey that it’s okay to talk about it if they want, still?

(There is not much more to say about Daisy, now, but I still hope that they’ll talk about it again… I want to feel the consequences of this death, how it hurt? It might come back when Basira returns, though…)

- Just An Archival Team Worrying:

(MAG095) MARTIN: And–and I’m glad we can help, of course I am. It’s just what he’s doing seems really dangerous. And I get that he’s worried about us. I mean, we worry about him as well. I worry. And we should just–

(MAG112) BASIRA: I’m sorry, I just… I worry. DAISY: Worry about yourself. I’m fine.

(MAG117) ARCHIVIST: I do worry about Martin and Melanie, leaving them behind, but… I– I suppose that’s– part of trusting someone, isn’t it? Letting them help how they can.

(MAG117) MARTIN: Anyway. I guess I’m just… sick of sitting on my hands, drinking tea and hoping everyone’s okay. This way I finally get to do something. It’s gonna hurt, but… I’m ready. And I want to. Also, I get to burn some stuff, so that’s cool! I just… really hope everyone makes it back.

(MAG128) ARCHIVIST: I just– I worry. You’re working for someone… really bad! MARTIN: Yes, I’m not an idiot, Jon, but it’s no… worse than working for something really bad, so…

(MAG139) ARCHIVIST: … [SIGH] I’m just worried about Martin. … Christ… Every other Avatar gets to have their feelings… burned right out of them, but me? I’ve… just got to sit in mine.

(MAG142) DAISY: Melanie’s out, and… [EXHALE] Jon and Basira’re still off. Bit worried. But they can take care of themselves, you know?

(MAG180) MARTIN: Do you think she’ll be okay without us? ARCHIVIST: Oh, she’s made it this far. MARTIN: … Yeah. I just worry.

- I’m glad that Jon got Basira’s consent about it:

(MAG179) BASIRA: All going well, I’ll meet you both in London. He’ll know where to find me. ARCHIVIST: So, you won’t mind if I check up on you sometimes? BASIRA: If you must! But don’t overdo it. I don’t like being watched. ARCHIVIST: Understood.

(MAG180) ARCHIVIST: Yeah, me too. But I’m… uh, “keeping an eye on her”, so…

Because dang, using double meaning like this, and using his power like this… he really sounds like Elias, lately. (On the surface – the fact that he got Basira’s consent, and that it’s genuinely for Basira’s well-being, does make a gigantic difference.)

- Jon’s leg injury was mentioned again this episode, with the fact that he was walking very fast:

(MAG180) MARTIN: H–how exactly does a leg wound make you faster? ARCHIVIST: I just want to get through here quickly.

And it made sense if reflecting Jon’s enthusiasm? But I can’t help but wonder if there is a Trick about it (like Jon’s body metamorphosing a bit after healing from injuries; or a reminder that he had recently been injured because the wound will reopen soon, or something).

- Levity, and at the same time a few reminders of what is at stake:

(MAG180) ARCHIVIST: I just want to get through here quickly. MARTIN: Really? I mean, it seems pretty calm apart from… Wait. Wait, wait, no, no, no, no, no, no! It’s not more children, is it? ARCHIVIST: No, no, no, the necropolis is fine. Uh, I mean, well; obviously it’s, it’s… bad, i–i–it’s horrible, but– MARTIN: S–so why the hurry? Where are we going? ARCHIVIST: Er… Well… MARTIN: Oh, come on, don’t play coy. ARCHIVIST: I’m not being coy, i–it’s just, well, I, I… MARTIN: … Wait. Wait, are you excited? ARCHIVIST: A–a bit? Maybe?

Understandable from Martin to be cautious about Jon’s behaviour, since last time Jon was trying to hurry in a domain… was because the domain was absolutely awful. (I’m super fond of the way he’s nagging Jon, when suspicious? I picture him narrowing his eyes, every time.) I love and am sad at the same time about how Jon scrambled a bit to remember his moral stance (he still knows that these places are awful and wants to label them as such, wants to reject them, although he’s now made to enjoy them on some level), a bit performatively, because his attention wasn’t even focused on the domain this time around? He was entirely focused on what was coming up next:

(MAG180) MARTIN: … [SUSPICIOUS] Why? What’s next? ARCHIVIST: [EXCITED] I don’t know! MARTIN: Wh–, y– … In what way? ARCHIVIST: All the ways. 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! […] Right, then…! I’m done. Let’s see what we’ve got…! […] It’s beautiful… MARTIN: … It’s a trap…! ARCHIVIST: [STILL DELIGHTED] No; it might be a trap. We, we just don’t know!

And it’s so understandable? It was something so unexpected and surprising for him? I love how it felt so different and unexpected to have him enthusiastic about something, and yet absolutely understandable, because, for once… he didn’t know something. And there was no way to tell (well, no static at least) whether it was because Jon was under an influence pushing him to discover about that ~mystery~, or if it was genuine excitement because it was breaking his routine, it was so different from everything else that he couldn’t help but hope and be curious about it? Since for once, there was potentially something “better” ahead of them? … Which left poor Martin having to remind him, multiple times, that it didn’t necessarily mean good news, but could be “a trap”, something worse. It is indeed a bit suspect that Jon didn’t consider that it could be Annabelle, or hiding Annabelle, although he had mentioned that he couldn’t see her. Precautions out of the window, there was NOVELTY, there was a MYSTERY!

- Jon’s character development!! ;w;

(MAG164) MARTIN: Maybe she’s right…! ARCHIVIST: I am not, nor have I ever been “adorable”. MARTIN: [CHUCKLE] Okay, not true.

(MAG180) MARTIN: Just so you know, this… this is an adorable look on you, by the way. ARCHIVIST: [IMPATIENT] Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes… MARTIN: [EXHALE] [HUMOURING] All right, then!

He didn’t reject the word, this time! … And I can only concur with Martin, Jon sounded adorable (we have to take Martin’s words for it, that he also looked it!). I think this is the most excited and delighted we’ve ever heard him? His outburst was genuine and spontaneous, not even driven by relief, this time around!

(On another hand, CRIES, because we do know since MAG080 that Jon, as a child already, was mostly drawn towards novelty (“I hated to read anything I felt like I had read before”), and Elias (fuck him) has commented about Jon’s tendency to push on and run into things (MAG092: “In a hundred ways, at a hundred thresholds, you pressed on. You sought knowledge relentlessly, and you always chose to see.”). It’s just ;; A reminder about how much Jon’s personality made him vulnerable to Beholding taking over, twisting what was already there. Wanting to see and to uncover mysteries is part of Jon. It’s Jon.) (Also cries cries, if the apocalypse hadn’t happened, Jon&Martin could just have gone travelling around the world together, and Jon would have been the most excited tourist, uh.)

- Martin and pop culture this season…

(MAG166) MARTIN: If you want to stop them and have the power to, then… then, then yeah, let’s do it, let’s go full Kill Bill! ARCHIVIST: [LOW] I, I, I haven’t seen it…

(MAG168) MARTIN: What, what happened to Kill Bill? … Jon? Jon, you said– ARCHIVIST: I know what I said, and I don’t… [SIGH] I don’t know, Martin.

(MAG180) MARTIN: [EXHALE] [HUMOURING] All right, then! Lead on Scooby, let’s go solve a mystery, woo-oo-ooh…! […] It’s fine, fine. Just… stay in this… avenue while you do it, I don’t want to lose sight of you. ARCHIVIST: Of course. MARTIN: Not when there’s a mystery on the loose, woo-oo-ooh…!

Taking on Tim’s mantle TT___TT

(I’m keyboardsmashing that he’s comparing Jon to Scooby, though. But eh! It’s also kinda cute: Martin is a dog-lover, so if he had to pick one for Jon…)

- Jon’s excitement was so contagious! And I like how we could get a feel of something being different when they came closer to the house – just the wind whirling, peacocks screaming and birds twittering, but without the usual sense of dread?

(MAG180) MARTIN: Is that… ARCHIVIST: [PLEASED] Looks like it…! [FOOTSTEPS STOP] MARTIN: … No, no– ARCHIVIST: Or yes! [PEACOCK SCREAM IN THE DISTANCE] MARTIN: It… can’t be real. ARCHIVIST: And yet! MARTIN: But, eh! But it’s… it’s… ARCHIVIST: Yeah! […] MARTIN: But it’s… It’s, it’s fine. It’s better than fine, th–there are trees! Look! Like… real trees! [BIRDS TWITTER] ARCHIVIST: It’s beautiful… MARTIN: … It’s a trap…!

* A bit “YIKES” that Martin is taking the presence of Actual Trees as a sign of a place being Fine And Well… when we’ve been haunted by Trees in Magnus. Albrecht’s tree, that he wanted “dead” (… complete with a mausoleum nearby); the tree at Hill Top Road, sealing (?) the Web box…

* “It’s fine” as opposed to:

(MAG160) ARCHIVIST: What happened? MARTIN: I–I, I don’t, I don’t know, everything… [FOOTSTEPS] It’s all gone wrong! ARCHIVIST: Help me up! [GRUNT] MARTIN: No, no, no! Don’t–don’t, don’t go outside. It’s… It’s real bad…

Truly an anti-apocalypse pocket, uh…

- So we have one domain that is not Jon’s specialty!

(MAG180) MARTIN: It–it’s like something out of a National Trust brochure…! ARCHIVIST: I–I mean, I’m pretty sure it is National Trust. It was, anyway. MARTIN: But… you don’t know for sure? ARCHIVIST: No! I can’t see anything about it. If I had to guess… Upton House, maybe? I–I mean, country houses and stately homes… are not exactly my specialist subjects…!

He infodumped about necropolises, however, and I can believe that that was just out of personal knowledge. But it’s interesting that he already couldn’t know with certainty what the house was or had been, even with Beholding powers?

If it is indeed Upton House: 1°) it’s not a Smirke building (so, interesting that the ~oasis~ in the chaos wouldn’t be from the guy who might have contributed to structuring the chaos a bit too much), 2°) they’re getting quite close to London! … And there is Hill Top Road more or less on their current way to London, it wouldn’t be a big detour. (Martin had packed maps when they left the cabin, I wonder if he’ll get an opportunity to use them?)

- I AM MELTING, DROWNING AND DISSOLVING IN JONMARTIN

(MAG180) ARCHIVIST: It’s beautiful… MARTIN: … It’s a trap…! ARCHIVIST: [STILL DELIGHTED] No; it might be a trap. We, we just don’t know! MARTIN: … Jon… [SILENCE] ARCHIVIST: [RESIGNED] … Yeah. [INHALE] We’ll go around. [PEACOCK SCREAM IN THE DISTANCE] [BAG JOSTLING] MARTIN: No… [SIGH] No, no, no. [SIGH] Let’s, let’s check it out. I mean… obviously it can’t be how it seems but… Well. ARCHIVIST: What if it is! MARTIN: [CHUCKLE] Exactly. ARCHIVIST: A beautiful oasis, untouched by the end of the world. MARTIN: It’s got to be worth a shot, right? [BIRDS TWITTER] ARCHIVIST: … Thank you. MARTIN: [SOFT HUFF] Don’t fret it. It’s just nice to see you like this…!

(“It’s beautiful” / “You know what else is beautiful? :-)” etc.)

The fact that Martin had to be The Voice Of Reason, and tried to be cautious, but relented because Jon was too excited/curious/adorable about it ;_; It made sense for both? Jon already knew that this place was different because he couldn’t See it before getting closer to it, unlike the rest of the world; and Martin didn’t do a good job about it when it comes to the smiting, but he knows from experience that Jon can be influenced by Beholding impulses – so that he would have to stop him if necessary. It was a nice role-reversal from most of season 5 since, usually, Jon had to remind Martin of how the apocalypse worked, and to not “trust comfort”? But right now, it was Martin pointing out and reminding Jon that when they look good, things can’t be as they seem.

… I’ll be laughing for a while that Martin only relented because Jon was cute. Like, understandable! Fair! But also, Martin, please <3

(There was no static, but if they were influenced by Annabelle to come here, I’m not sure she did anything to Jon. Martin, however… making him focus on Jon’s excitement, on wanting to see him even happier? Jon has sworn that he wouldn’t look in Martin’s head and they have discussed the possibility that he could be influenced, I wonder if we’ll hear about whether it’s the case or not soon.)

- Did they think that the front of the building was kind of a façade, a décor? Like a theatre setting? Or was it about the fact that for old big houses, you generally don’t come through the giant doors (although they work!), they’re closed to public use while the functional doors are elsewhere? Awww that Martin has not enough experience with big houses to know about the latter:

(MAG180) MARTIN: So… what now? I don’t see a doorbell. ARCHIVIST: I’m not even sure this door actually opens. MARTIN: But it should, it’s the front door! [DISTANT, MUFFLED PIANO NOTES] Besides, it’s the biggest one so if it’s not, then– ARCHIVIST: I mean, maybe they expect you to come in through the café or…

(We could already hear, very faintly, Salesa playing! There were a few interruptions when they were waiting outside, I wonder if they were for the Aesthetic or if he was actually practicing?)

- Jon sounded SO HAPPY to not know things!

(MAG180) MARTIN: … [SUSPICIOUS] Why? What’s next? ARCHIVIST: [EXCITED] I don’t know! MARTIN: Wh–, y– … In what way? ARCHIVIST: All the ways. I don’t know what’s next. […] MARTIN: You think the others might be there? ARCHIVIST: [DELIGHTED] I have no idea! It’s a mystery! […] ARCHIVIST: I–I mean, I’m pretty sure it is National Trust. It was, anyway. MARTIN: But… you don’t know for sure? ARCHIVIST: No! I can’t see anything about it. If I had to guess… Upton House, maybe? I–I mean, country houses and stately homes… are not exactly my specialist subjects…! […] MARTIN: … It’s a trap…! ARCHIVIST: [STILL DELIGHTED] No; it might be a trap. We, we just don’t know! […] ARCHIVIST: I mean, they usually have a little… gift shop or something. MARTIN: Okay, so where would they be? ARCHIVIST: … No idea! [SMALL LAUGH] MARTIN: I thought you said you’d been here before. ARCHIVIST: I said I might have been, and even if I have, I was twelve. MARTIN: I’ll tell you what, it’s more convenient when you know everything. [SOUNDS OF A DOOR UNLOCKING] ARCHIVIST: [PLEASED] Oh! Guess I was wrong!

You bet that if it’s still the same when he wakes up, he’ll just be obnoxiously “I DON’T KNOW =D” about so many things <3 And he deserves to be happy about it <3

- So, at least, Jon identified the building as potentially Upton House, which he visited when he was twelve:

(MAG180) MARTIN: I thought you said you’d been here before. ARCHIVIST: I said I might have been, and even if I have, I was twelve.

So the house shouldn’t be Mr. Spider’s building (and Jon was eight), nor Hill Top Road (that Jon visited in MAG147) (… well. The new one, at least. He wouldn’t know what the pre-1974 looked like. But likely not a country house comparable to Upton House.) Still, given that Annabelle opened the door, there were a few elements reminding me of Jon’s childhood misadventure? Visiting a house as a child, and a spider behind the door… (BUT JON DIDN’T KNOCK ON THIS ONE, AT LEAST……… Annabelle opened the door without being prompted. They were taking too much time, uh.)

- Martin still wants to rely on the smiting, uh.

(MAG180) 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.

Jon had already seemed less fond of that one ability (while for Martin… it was a potential defence, power against monsters and avatars susceptible to hurt them), I’m not surprised that he wasn’t even thinking about it… but he sure was a bit oddly relaxed, still.

It was the first indication that the area of the house itself was operating differently from the apocalypse – is Jon cut off from The Eye? Can he use any power at all? Or has he just “lost” the ability to use the new powers he got in the apocalypse – the sea of knowledge and turning someone who is feared into someone who is afraid? (MAG166, Helen: “there are now exactly two roles available in this new world of ours: the watcher, and the watched. Subject, and object. Those who are feared, and those who are afraid. And Jon, well… he is part of The Eye; a very important part. And he’s able to, shall we say… shift its focus. Turn the one into the other.”)

- I love that Jon&Martin took so long deliberating/talking that Annabelle had to open the door even before they knocked or called for someone.

(MAG180) [DOOR OPENS] [MUSIC CAN BE HEARD PLAYING MORE CLEARLY] MARTIN: Oh. Oh no, uh… [FOOTSTEPS] ANNABELLE: Good morning. ARCHIVIST: [FAINT GRUNT] MARTIN: Uh… Yes… ANNABELLE: Come on in. He’s waiting for you. ARCHIVIST: Oh. And who exactly– MARTIN: J–J–Jon. Jon. ARCHIVIST: What? MARTIN: I think… Hum… Annabelle? Annabelle Cane? ANNABELLE: Come on. He’s very excited, you know.

Hurry, guys.

Note about Annabelle: she’s POLITE when talking directly with someone!

(MAG166) MARTIN: Hello? ANNABELLE: Hello? Is that Martin?

… There had been no “Hello” to Jon in the statement she had left for him, but to be fair, Jon&co had burst into her home and talked about burning it down, so they had been a bit rude first, maybe. (… though she had written it and left it for them before they did.)

- Quite surprised that Jon apparently didn’t recognise Annabelle on sight?

(MAG123, Angie Santos) “As he told it, she was young, rail-thin underneath an oversized brown hoodie, which she kept pulled up, trying to cover up a network of pale stitches that stretched over one side of her head.”

(MAG150) MELANIE: [CHUCKLING] What? You think I wouldn’t notice if she had cobwebs down her face? ARCHIVIST: … No? MELANIE: [DEEP INHALE] That’s it, isn’t it? [EXHALE] You… you really think I’m so stupid I wouldn’t have noticed if my therapist was some kind of monster!

Annabelle’s appearance is pretty distinctive, we had descriptions of her and it involved “stitches”/cobwebs on/in her head, following her injuries from MAG069. Martin probably recognised her voice from their call in MAG166, but Jon didn’t have any reaction until Martin pointed it out despite Annabelle having such a characteristic look. Was part of her head hidden? Has she healed, or did her appearance revert to before her head injury once she got into the house? Or was Jon under influence, unable to connect the dots or notice the cobwebs? (What if Jon has actually met Annabelle before, off-tape, and wasn’t able to recognise her back then either?)

- … I love that Jon immediately went for Questions as soon as Annabelle was identified, though.

(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.

* Jon… It’s so typical of him, it’s very Beholding, and very Jon, and very… earnest? from him to just go for questions right away – his questions weren’t exactly tender, but he could have gone for recriminations or complains or acidic remarks about her MAG147 statements or the nagging phone calls, especially given that he has no affection for The Web in particular… but no. He went for questions.

* “Making myself at home” just like how spiders just decide your home is their home, uh. (I’m picturing a dozen boxes and bags made out of cobwebs lying around near the entrance. “Just making myself at home!” said the spider person.)

*“helping out around the place”: same as with “I want to help you, of course” (MAG166), define “help”, Annabelle, please.

- Jon was not the rudest he’s ever been, but Martin sounded way more careful and less antagonistic? He avoided directly interacting with her once he got confirmation of who she was, just answered her when she directly addressed him:

(MAG180) ANNABELLE: Good morning. ARCHIVIST: [FAINT GRUNT] MARTIN: Uh… Yes… […] MARTIN: … Jon, I don’t like this. ANNABELLE: You can relax, Mr. Blackwood. You’re safe here. MARTIN: I don’t feel it. ANNABELLE: Not something I can help, I’m afraid.

* Was the “Mr. Blackwood” a reference to their first exchange:

(MAG166) MARTIN: Hello? ANNABELLE: Hello? Is that Martin? MARTIN: Don’t do that. […] [SIGH] Look, look, look, I’m talking to Annabelle Cane, right? ANNABELLE: You never gave me your name – so why should I offer mine?

While she had allowed herself to call Jon “Jon” in her statement (with the added cruelty that Jon would read her “‘Free will’ is a funny old thing – isn’t it, Jon? Can I call you Jon? I’m going to call you Jon.” without being able to stop). Is it her sense of humour showing towards Martin’s name, reminding that he had never introduced himself properly? Would she switch to “Mr. Sims” for Jon just for funsies too? Is it a reference to Martin’s poetry pen names, or a reference to Martin lying about having a middle name (as Jon discovered in MAG164)?

(Damnit, sad that Jon didn’t chirp in with “Actually, it’s Blackwood-Sims now :|” or something like that, though! =D)

* MMMM, is her “Not something I can help” a reference to The Web not working like this (not able to force you to feel an emotion, mostly nudging you towards certain actions and letting you rationalise Why You Wanted To Do That Anyway), or does it imply that Annabelle also has less power in this house and might be cut off from The Web, at least a little…?

- Obligatory YIKES though, because… Spiders-affiliated people inviting you to ~come in~… rarely leads to anything good…

(MAG059, Ronald Sinclair) “On Sunday evenings however, we’d all gather for the evening meal and before we sat down to eat, he would remove the bright white tablecloth that covered it and we gather around the dark wood. I remember it was carved in all sorts of strange swirling designs and patterns; it felt like you picked a line, any line, you could follow it through to the centre to some deep truth if only your eye could keep track of the strands that had caught it. The centre of the table looked at first like it was simply part of the wooden top, but if you looked closely, as I did so often, you could see an outline marking the very middle, as a small square box carved with patterns just like the ones that laced their way over the rest of the table. I don’t remember how long we sat around the table those evenings nor do I have any memory of what we might have eaten. […] 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: The second-to-last page shows the right-hand door up close, the stains and the ink seeping from the edges. It is looks like it has a cut-away panel that can be opened onto the final page. “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.

(MAG110, Alexia Crawley) “Finally, Dexter announced that it was time for the unveiling, for the Spider, for… Kumo to make its appearance. We were all excited, as we assembled outside the workshop, but… there was a nervous energy in the air that day. It was about as cold as it ever gets in L.A., but the shiver that passed through us when he told us it was time was… something else entirely. Dexter told us the actors would see it first. He gave no reasoning for this, and silenced the outcry from a couple of the crew with a vicious glare. He then gathered up the cast and, with Brandon leading them, took them through a small door in the side of the workshop. And they disappeared inside.”

(MAG123, Angie Santos) “It was bare bones, since he’d been given no copy or indication of how it was to be organised, except for the name of the site: [STATIC] Chelicerae, which he made sure stood prominently at the top in a tasteful Sans Serif. The client had requested only a single area where threads could be posted, labelled ‘Come in’. Of course, there was never anything in there.”

(MAG136, Alison Killala) “Sometimes, I remember, he would invite people over to his studio that I was sure he hated, for screenings of his “original cuts”. I was quite… jealous of this at the time, as I’d never got such an invitation. But it was probably for the best. I didn’t… realise it back then, but… [SIGH] those guests… they never quite looked the same afterwards.”

(MAG147, Annabelle Cane) “And sitting on the side of the road above it, casting a thick, angular shadow, was the squat brick structure of the old chip shop. I’d never seen it open. No one had, as far as I could tell. It was painted a dark blue, that never quite matched any colour of sky that was behind it, and had a hand-lettered sign that could still be seen covering much of the bare left hand wall, in curling, faded typeface. “CHIPS”, it said. […] I don’t really know why I decided to hide there. But assuming you’ve been paying attention, I’m sure by now you understand how little that means. Perhaps deep down… I simply knew it would be unlocked. […] A light rain began to patter down, and I, not having had the foresight to pack an umbrella, ran to it, and opened the door as quickly and quietly as I could.”

Bad, bad sign? Although it seems to be Salesa’s residence more than Annabelle’s ;;

- Uhoh, interesting that there was static and even a glitch when they crossed the threshold:

(MAG180) MARTIN: [FAINT GROAN] So, do we… follow or…? [PIANO CEASES] ARCHIVIST: I… I suppose. [FOOTSTEPS] [DOOR CREAKS] [STATIC RISES ABRUPTLY, WITH A GLITCH, AND FADES] ARCHIVIST: Oh… MARTIN: Oh, hum… ARCHIVIST: Oh. [PIANO RESUMES] [DOOR CLOSES] [FOOTSTEPS ECHOING AS THEY GO] MARTIN: [INHALE] [SIGH]

The glitch reminds me of Jon smiting avatars; there was also a slight ripping sound when the door opened in MAG160. Jon and Martin’s very light reactions indicated that they did feel something, and that entering the house… indeed meant entering somewhere different, a place that might operate following its own rules. And as they noticed right away, hunger&tiredness caught up with them:

(MAG180) MARTIN: Though… Jon, do you feel… Huh! Do you feel hungry? ARCHIVIST: I, hum… Actually, I was going to say I’m feeling… really tired…! [BAG JOSTLING] ANNABELLE: Not surprising. When’s the last time you slept? MARTIN: [YAWN] ARCHIVIST: I–I don’t know, I–I mean… weeks ago. Months, maybe.

Jon had pointed out that in the world of Fears, they didn’t need those:

(MAG161) MARTIN: You should get some sleep. [CREAKING SOUND] ARCHIVIST: I… [SIGH] can’t. I–I–I can’t, I–I don’t think I do anymore… “Sleep”. [EXHALE] How long’s it been, now? MARTIN: I don’t know. It’s not like there are days to count anymore. All the clocks have stopped, and… [DISTANT HOWL] ARCHIVIST: Well, I haven’t yet. I get… tired, but it doesn’t feel the same. [WOODEN CREAKING SOUND] Probably for the best. Sleep doesn’t look… pleasant. MARTIN: Nnno, it’s… it’s not. […] MARTIN: [MIRTHLESS HUFF] What about food? ARCHIVIST: What about it? When’s the last time you thought to eat, o–or even felt hungry? MARTIN: [FAINT] What…? Wha… Uh… I don’t know. ARCHIVIST: No. Whatever is sustaining us now doesn’t need us to eat. MARTIN: That… that can’t be possible– ARCHIVIST: It’s a new world, Martin, the natural laws are whatever they want them to be. And I suspect they don’t much care to keep humanity fed and watered. MARTIN: Well, that as may be, we can’t just stay here forever.

So, their bodies do feel those needs again in the house, and it seems to work… like things should normally work. No more dream-logic, physical laws working again. Salesa mentioned that they would need to eat, so it probably means Actual Food – is he cultivating some in the house’s domain?

… Given what happened soon after (Martin and Jon crashing, sleeping, and the mention from Salesa that they would rest and eat), it’s… extremely reassuring for regular victims in the apocalypse? I was fearing that, even if the world was turned back, hunger and thirst would catch up with them in one go, killing them instantly. But if Martin and Jon are able to survive this, if it’s really that they just need to rest and eat a bit to be fine, then it should be manageable for everyone else if the apocalypse were to be somehow stopped? (Which might not happen. But at least, it’s reassuring that it wouldn’t lead to “well, everyone dies anyway because, now that the world is back and working normally again, they haven’t drunk or eaten anything for months”!)

- Given how Annabelle wasn’t surprised, and was even expecting that Jon and Martin would collapse from tiredness and hunger (since she had even warned Salesa about it)… did she herself experience that when she crossed the threshold? Is it doing that to Jon&Martin specifically because they’re connected to The Eye? Did Annabelle suspect that it would happen from experience or from sheer deduction? If it’s the latter, it means that she probably has a better grasp on the apocalypse’s rules than Jon, despite him being almost all-knowledgeable…

- I. Love. Salesa. Already.

(MAG180) ANNABELLE: Well. There you go, then! Just in here. [OPENS THE DOOR] Your guests are here, Mikaele. [PIANO CEASES] SALESA: Hoo-hoo-hoo! Excellent! Come in, come in! Ah, a pleasure to meet both of you. Thank you, Annabelle! ANNABELLE: You’re quite welcome. [PIANO RESUMES] Have fun. ARCHIVIST: [EXTREMELY TIRED] S–sorry… Uh, Mikaele… Salesa? SALESA: The one and only! I must say I have been, uh… [THE ARCHIVIST AND MARTIN COLLAPSE WITH A SMALL SNORE, FAST ASLEEP] [PIANO CEASES] SALESA: [SAD SIGH] [SILENCE BUT FOR CLOCK TICKING IN THE BACKGROUND] ANNABELLE: I did say this might happen. SALESA: You did, you diiid. Well… so much for my big reveal… Shame. Ah, well. We can talk after they’ve slept, I suppose. Urgh! And had a bath. And some food. No rush. [SOUNDS OF CROCKERY MOVING] We have all the time in the world. [CLICK.]

* He was working SO HARD on that dramatic effect. Stopping the piano to quickly greet them and immediately going back to playing it. He WANTED that dramatic background during their discussion, uh. (Beethoven’s Piano Sonata No. 31 in A major, Op. 110: I. Moderato cantabile, molto espressivo => it was only the first part. He probably would have kept going until the end of the third if they had managed to start talking, just for the sheer drama of the musical background. He knew that him turning out to actually be alive was a big deal, he banked on the surprise and was ready for the drama and flourish.)

* “So much for my big reveal”, HIS SAD SIGH, the fact that he was really hoping for his dramatic introduction while playing the piano, and he was robbed. ROBBED.

… I wonder if he was acquainted with Simon? At the very least, I’m LAUGHING SO HARD at Peter: look at the people he was on good terms with! First Simon, now Salesa? Peter definitely had a type, and it was Obnoxiously Cheerful Dudes Who Like To Show Off And Make Bets.

* Salesa was not at all how I was imagining him, and yet I’m fully onboard, I love him, he sounds insufferable like Simon while being casually savage. He had laughed about the antiques business joke in MAG038! Excited child sulking slightly, but immediately having mundane Priorities.

* To be fair, Jon and Martin’s level of filth might include: mud from the Trenches and the worms, potential spores from the Corruption village, Extinction juice from the couch, some ashes from the burning block of flats, Trevor and Daisy gore… so yep. They’re dirty, and they’ve probably never changed since they left the cabin.

* Laughing about Salesa’s Luxury taste. The house is big (it’s Upton House, or Upton House-like, and we could hear that through to the echo and the length of the corridor), he was playing the piano, he mentioned a bath (not a shower!), he used crockery at the end… Is it tea. Is there tea. Is Martin getting actual tea. (Martin had mentioned that he had found actual teabags in the cabin, before leaving; could he put them to good use here?)

* Another place, another clock ticking in the background, and me thinking about Elias’s office. (Or was that a metronome, for the piano?)

* How long has it been since Salesa took residence in this house? Since the apocalypse began? Or has he been travelling too, only staying there for a bit while waiting for Jon&Martin?

* Conversation incoming with Jon, I wonder if they will mention Floyd – as one of Salesa’s old crewmates, and someone Jon plagued with nightmares.

* I’m??? Surprised and delighted??? about Salesa and Annabelle being very polite with each other and kinda chill? There seems to be a mutual respect here, I want to learn more about it! They’re on first name-basis! Annabelle was calling him “Mikaele”! From what we knew until now, only Peter had called him “Mikaele”!

* I really love Annabelle’s voice so far, too? Very fluid, air-like, slight smile tugging at the corner of her lips, and I have absolutely no idea what she’s thinking at any moment, only guessing that she might have been having fun anyway.

* Since she dropped Jon&Martin in Salesa’s care with a “Have fun”, and then chirped in again, I was picturing her making Jon&Martin enter the room, then departing… and then coming back, popping her head through the door-case for that almost verbatim “I told you so <3”.

* “We have all the time in the world.” NO, YOU DON’T… NOT WHEN PEOPLE ARE LIVING HELL OUT THERE D:

- Jon And Collapsing is otp:

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

(MAG131) ARCHIVIST: Y–yes. Just, uh… Uh, i–if you start… walking, that way, I–I–I’m sure there’ll be a door, for you. JARED: There’d better be. [FOOTSTEPS] ARCHIVIST: Y–y–yes, I, uh… I… [COLLAPSES] [CLICK.]

(MAG139) ARCHIVIST: … If I… Knew… what his plan was; if I knew what Peter was doing; if I just– [WHISPERING] … Can I…? [LOW RUMBLING SOUND, STATIC RISES] [CRIES OF PAIN] [VERY SHARP SQUEAL OF DISTORTION STEADILY RISING] [NOISE OF SOMETHING-OR-JON FALLING] [SQUEAL OF DISTORTION DECREASES] ARCHIVIST: [MUMBLING] End… E–end recording…! [CLICK.]

(MAG160) ARCHIVIST: I – OPEN – THE DOOR! [STATIC REACHING A PEAK] [GLASS BREAKING] [DISTORTED SOUND] [CLICK.] [CLICK–] [CONSTANT FUZZY STATIC] MARTIN: Wake up, wake up…! Wake, Jon–Jon–JON, wake up! [SLAP] ARCHIVIST: [YELP] Uh, wha– … Martin…?

(MAG180) SALESA: The one and only! I must say I have been, uh… [THE ARCHIVIST AND MARTIN COLLAPSE WITH A SMALL SNORE, FAST ASLEEP] [PIANO CEASES] SALESA: [SAD SIGH]

And yet: extremely interesting that this time… Jon lost consciousness, but

the tape recorder kept going for a while

. It didn’t turn off the second Jon conked out. (And we could hear the passage through the domain, with the glitch, but the tape recorder didn’t click off either when they entered the house, although Jon&Martin noticed that natural laws were affecting them again; the tape recorder kept going just fine…)

- Still screaming that SALESA IS STILL ALIVE, HOLY SHEET.

Back when MAG141 had aired, I was deeply in camp “we haven’t heard the whole story, and the news of his death was only a third-hand account, no one’s seen the body, so it’s definitely suspicious and things were probably not as they seemed”. But since MAG160… happened… and the whole configuration changed, I was mostly expecting a tape or a second-hand account of what had truly happened? I wasn’t really expecting Salesa to be still around AND fine despite the apocalypse? So EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE =D

Floyd’s statement regarding Salesa’s disappearance had been riddled with oddities, starting with the content of his story: as mentioned, Floyd himself hadn’t witnessed Salesa’s death, and had only reported to Jon what Captain Gaultier had told the crew about how Salesa had ~met his end~:

(MAG141) FLOYD: Some tried to ask the captain about Salesa, but he just shook his head. He wasn’t making much sense. We managed to gather the two of them had left early to deliver the artefact, but something had gone wrong. There had been an argument. They had been betrayed. Salesa was dead. … The captain died soon after; the shrapnel trapped in his skull finally getting the better of him.

… which had felt, on a narrative level, like a way to circumvent Beholding’s compelling power (it’s not a lie from Floyd to say that he was told by someone else that Salesa had died, that’s his truth: Jon had already commented about this aspect in MAG107, about Gerry’s death: “It’s all very well, being able to get people to answer your questions, but if they genuinely don’t remember something, it’s not always as useful as it seems.”). But it was also a gigantic oddity when it came to Jon’s tape recorder:

(MAG141) BASIRA: Yeah, I heard. ‘anks. … What? ARCHIVIST: The tape recorder… BASIRA: [INHALE] Get ready. Any idea what’s coming? [QUICK FOOTSTEPS] ARCHIVIST: N–no, I’m… No, I–I don’t think that’s it. BASIRA: It’s not recording for nothing. ARCHIVIST: No, I… [STATIC RISING] … I think… [CALLING OUT] Excuse me? FLOYD: Yeah? [FOOTSTEPS APPROACH] ARCHIVIST: [INTERESTEDLY] You… FLOYD: Uh…? BASIRA: Jon? ARCHIVIST: You used to work for Salesa… […] He didn’t exactly seem inclined to volunteer the information. Besides, you said I needed to be ready for Ny-Ålesund. BASIRA: [SNARLS] ARCHIVIST: “Full power”, I believe were your words. The statement helped. BASIRA: And now he’s going to see you in his dreams as he relives that for the rest of his life! ARCHIVIST: [EXHALE] BASIRA: Because… because a tape recorder told you to do it?!

(MAG146) BASIRA: How many? ARCHIVIST: Basira, I– BASIRA: How. Many. [SILENCE] ARCHIVIST: … Four. MELANIE: Jesus… ! BASIRA: Including the one on the boat? DAISY: What one on the boat? ARCHIVIST: Including Floyd? … Five. […] MELANIE: [EXHALE] Why didn’t you record them? BASIRA: Why do you think? Because he was ashamed. ARCHIVIST: No! I don’t– … I–I mean, I don’t record anything anymore, not… not really, I just… sort of assume they’ll… turn on, if it’s important. BASIRA: Well, they didn’t. ARCHIVIST: … No, I suppose not.

… since no recorder showed up to turn itself on for Jess and the three other victims, but did for Floyd, and for Floyd only, and we didn’t have any explanation about why – the only big distinction being that, unlike the others, Floyd was connected to a recurring character from statements Jon had read about, while Jon’s other victims didn’t feel connected to stories we had already explored a bit. It had also been an oddity when it came to… Jon’s behaviour by itself:

(MAG141) BASIRA: What the hell was that?! ARCHIVIST: He had information about Salesa; I thought it would help. BASIRA: Is that why you were so keen on this ship? ARCHIVIST: I wasn’t sure. Just had a hunch there was something here.

Since, at this point in time, he had already fed from Jess two weeks earlier (she would come in to file her complaint the day after Floyd’s statement) and, the way Jon later summarised it, he had mostly fed from people after using his powers (first one after waking up, second one after Melanie’s surgery, third one after the Coffin, and Jess after trying to take a peek into Peter’s plan at the end of MAG139). But Floyd hadn’t sounded like it was hunger; it had sounded like absolute curiosity.

… Was it because Salesa had found a way to go undercover from The Eye, and Jon was supernaturally drawn to knowledge hidden from it? What about the tape recorder: was it to convey to Jon that Salesa was important and that he should pay attention to him and his disappearance, or is it that whatever-is-behind-the-tapes was craving to know about Salesa specifically because he was one of these recurring figures? (For example, if Jon had been reading statements about an endless warehouse trapping people, would the tape recorder have turned on for the story of the supermarket janitor he attacked after waking up?) Or was it specifically because Salesa had done something to go under the radar, and whatever-is-behind-the-tapes knew that it hadn’t been by normal means? Or was it specifically to “narratively” prepare this encounter in Upton House?

(Damnit, now I’m going to cross fingers until the end of the series for an Agnes statement from Agnes herself, lying around on tape somewhere, or for Agnes to still be around somehow, somewhere ;_;)

- Extremely giddy about Salesa since he had been present since season 1, and we had mostly heard about him in the first two seasons!

*Pre-1994: was one of Leitner’s assistants/guinea-pigs, ran the fuck out of there with Leitner’s list of clients and slowly began to deal in spooky artefacts for money. (MAG115)

*Autumn 1999: lost his cook to a Flesh meat-grinder, which prompted him to establish his rule: “only I take stock of the merchandise.” (MAG115)

*January 2000: Vincent Yang accidentally touched an old wooden crate in Salesa’s shipping container, and got trapped inside until Peter Lukas&Salesa opened it. Salesa might have betted on his survival (? at the very least, Peter had lost a twenty pounds bet with him). (MAG066)

*January 7th 2007: Salesa gave a statement to the Institute after a Slaughter weapon he had sold to them apparently caused some damage. (MAG115)

*Spring 2010: bought an old Victorian syringe from Dr. Neil Thompson, which was said to have belonged to 19th-century physician John Snow. The team’s malarial research took a Corruption turn right after the sale. (MAG045)

*2011: Floyd Matharu began working on the Dorian; captain was Gaultier and reported to Salesa, who was travelling with them, although it felt like Salesa had the last word anyway (“Always felt a bit uncomfortable when the captain was giving orders and he was there. I could sometimes feel Captain Gaultier looking to him for support or confirmation, and that always slightly undermined our confidence in him.”) (MAG141)

*Shortly before May 29th 2011 (since Lee Rentoul was losing limbs fast): was seen “flanked by four men in dark suits, who carried a square wooden crate between them”, meeting with Paul Noriega for a transaction that didn’t pan out – Salesa departed still with the crate. Described as “paranoid”. [“four men in dark suits” would… fit… the Dark guys from D.K.N. Systems… but they were butchered by Julia&Trevor in summer 2010, so dates don’t seem to match up for that.] (MAG014)

*March 2012: “sold”/gave/passed over the Spiral Chinese pot from the Jiajing period to Andre Ramao. (MAG038)

*2014: Salesa was tired, especially after losing a crew to a (Spiral?) rug. He announced his retirement, took a few crewmembers with him to retrieve an item (“an old camera with a broken lens”) from a tiny island about a hundred kilometres south of Malé, which disappeared right after (swallowed by The Dark or The Vast?). The night of their return to Southampton, there was a big explosion when he was delivering the item with Captain Gaultier, who came back saying they had been “betrayed” and that Salesa was “dead”, before dying from his injuries shortly after. (MAG141)

Last mentions of him were from Peter… and about his relationship to Gertrude:

(MAG159) PETER: Thinking about it now, perhaps one of the reasons I lasted as long as I did was that I was, at the end of the day, predictable. A “known quantity”. I had my little patch, sending my poor lost sailors to their Forsaken end, but I rarely stepped outside of it. When I think of all those I met who travelled in this secret world we found ourselves in – Gertrude, Simon, Mikaele, even Rayner… there are plenty whose lives might well have been easier with my death, but it was rare that I strayed outside my habits.

(MAG167) ARCHIVIST: “And with that, Gertrude Robinson was without assistants. She never hired another. She worked with those that seemed useful until they were no longer so: Leitner; Dekker; Keay; even Salesa on occasion. But she never again allowed herself to trust.”

It’s true that we hadn’t actually seen any example of “collaboration” between Salesa and Gertrude; we only knew that a few items from Artefact Storage came from Salesa, and that he was aware of the consequences of giving a statement as per MAG115. We might learn more about the explosion he “died” in and the so-called betrayal from 2014! Was it Gertrude? Explosions would usually be her trademark, and she was still alive back then (she would die in 2015); depending on when it happened exactly in 2014, it could even have been after Gerry’s death. Still no idea about his connection to Annabelle, aaaaah!! … And I’m so happy that amongst the hypotheses enumerated by Jon:

(MAG045) ARCHIVIST: I don’t think there can be much doubt that the antiques dealer is the curious Mr. Salesa. He’s now turned up enough that I can no longer write it off as a coincidence, and have been having a word with Rosie about whether we can make contact with him. Apparently, he hasn’t been seen for almost two years now, with rumours in the trade running through everything from “he had a quiet retirement” to “he’s trying to dodge a jail sentence”, or even “he was shot dead in Columbia for stealing a priceless artefact from a drug lord”. Whatever the reason, it doesn’t look like he’ll be answering questions any time soon, though I have urged Rosie to keep trying.

… Mikaele Salesa DID apparently get his “quiet retirement”, if that house is any indication! =D

- There was this ~funny~ thematic of the dead haunting the living, in Jon’s statement, which is resonating in an amusing way with the fact that Salesa was presumed dead… and turned out to still be around. (Is he still absolutely human and just managed to escape the Fears? Did he turn into an avatar? End avatar? Something else?)

- … Since the house might be insulated from The Eye in some way (Jon wasn’t able to Know anything about it, didn’t think he could smite in there), that means Salesa shares something with Leitner:

(MAG080) ARCHIVIST: And the other book? LEITNER: Hardly a book. Barely twelve pages. It is entitled A Disappearance. If read cover to cover it removes one from the world. I cannot say precisely what that means, only that the assistant I assigned to it, Jacob Feng, was never seen again. I have found, however, that reading only one or two words is sufficient to hide me from the prying eyes of your master. It allowed me to talk with Gertrude in relative safety, and occasionally come above ground for my own ends. […] ELIAS: I’ve wondered for so long who it could be down there. Who was helping her. I honestly never would have guessed. LEITNER: How did you know I was here? ELIAS: I didn’t. You’re very well hidden. But Jon is not, and he failed to take the same precautions I’m sure you took for granted with Gertrude. I knew he was talking to someone. And it turns out to be Jurgen Leitner himself. [SOFT CHUCKLING] What an honour.

I’m not sure Salesa would be glad to know. (Leitner had the gall to be invisible to The Eye/Elias in The Eye’s own temple, but Salesa appears to be chilling quietly in the middle of The Eye’s apocalypse, so.)

- Obviously, there is the big question of how/why this house seems to be insulated from Jon’s powers and the Fears. Is it thanks to the camera he had retrieved on his last journey?

(MAG141) FLOYD: Then, he says he wants to send us off with a proper payday, that there’s one last job he wants us to do. Very dangerous; very… illegal. […] He was really cagey on the details, clearly being careful about exactly who he was telling exactly what. All I knew is that we were on our way to the Maldives, to a tiny island about a hundred kilometres south of Malé. No-one would tell me the name of the island, but in that area of the world, any islands that small are usually private, though I had no idea who the owner might have been. Once there, Salesa and the four crewmembers he trusted most were going to take the small boat over the island. We were to wait, and prepare to depart as quickly as possible as soon as they returned. […] I’ve gone over that memory so many times, trying to think what I might have missed. But even now, whenever I think of it, it just looked like an old camera with a broken lens. And then Salesa closed and locked the metal box, and carried it down into the hold as we started to sail away. […] A huge shape, a shadow surrounding it on all sides; getting darker, getting closer, coming up from deep, deep below the surface. It must have been huge, so large that the edge of it almost touched the ship. And had we been a few minutes slower? I have no doubt whatever awful thing emerged that night, it would have taken us as well. Something began to break the surface, as I realised the deep rumble was no longer the thunder, and I closed my eyes, and fell to the deck, gripping the rail with all my might, as a wave hit us from behind, propelling us away from it. When it had finally subsided, and I could bring myself to look back, the island was gone, and ocean was still.

We still don’t know what it was exactly: a pinhole camera, a Dark artefact, an anti-Fear artefact cancelling the Powers’ influence? Interesting thing is that he had bought the old Victorian syringe a few years prior (in 2010), which had apparently been protecting the team specialising in malarial research up until they parted with the item – all hell broke loose right after (MAG045). Had Salesa begun to get an idea about items able to protect you from a power’s influence thanks to that syringe? Does he have other items like this in his possession?

- I wonder when Annabelle and Salesa met! Did they begin to collaborate before Salesa went off to retrieve the camera? When the explosion happened, did she save him? Or only just now during the apocalypse?

I’M SO MAD THAT THERE IS TECHNICALLY A CONNECTION BETWEEN SALESA AND SPIDERS…

(MAG038) ARCHIVIST: This is not the first time Mikaele Salesa’s name has come to the attention of the Institute. Even discounting the incidental role he played in case #0112905, he appears to have something of a knack for locating objects displaying more… disconcerting phenomena. I believe some of the more bizarre things in the Artefact Storage area were purchased from him. It has been something of a– Urgh. Urgh. [CHAIR SCRAPES ON THE FLOOR] ARCHIVIST: I see you… [THUMP... THEN SOUND OF COLLAPSING SHELVES] [NOISES OF EXCLAMATION] [DOOR OPENS] SASHA: All right? ARCHIVIST: Ah… Yeah, a… a spider.

… The spider which warned the Archive team of the incoming worms invasion Happened when Jon was talking about Salesa.

I’M SO MAD.

I’m extremely surprised about Annabelle and Salesa collaborating, and at the same time, it seems thematically fitting? They’re both people of colour with a rough start in life, who were used as guinea pigs by academics attempting to learn more about the Fears through using others. Have they been collaborating for long? Are their goals aligning, or is it an alliance of circumstances? The way it was presented this episode, she mostly did Salesa a favour by bringing him Jon&Martin, but she was neutral about it…

What does Salesa want? Does he want to undo the apocalypse, has a high goal? Or did he want to invite Jon and Martin just as a distraction? He had seemed like a fair boss, looking after his crew as long as they were obeying him, and looked genuinely affected by the loss of some of them in Floyd’s statement (someone heartless and uncaring wouldn’t keep a picture of his past ship and now dead crewmembers to look at it sadly), so I’m not sure what to expect. Is he fine living in peace while knowing everyone else is suffering outside, including old crew like Floyd? (His “We have all the time in the world.” didn’t give me the impression he was in a hurry to do something to save people fast ;; They! Don’t! Have! All the time in the world! If others are suffering in the meantime… ;;)

Is this house cut off from all the Fears? What about Annabelle’s connection to The Web? What is Annabelle trying to achieve, will we learn about it right now? We tend to conflate her to her patron, but it’s true that… she could be in the same situation as Jon in that regard: influenced by The Mother, using her power when necessary but not actually going along with what it seeks?

- Interesting that Salesa has Heard about Jon and Martin:

(MAG180) ANNABELLE: Come on in. He’s waiting for you. […] Come on. He’s very excited, you know. […] Your guests are here, Mikaele. SALESA: Hoo-hoo-hoo! Excellent! Come in, come in! Ah, a pleasure to meet both of you. Thank you, Annabelle! ANNABELLE: You’re quite welcome. [PIANO RESUMES] Have fun.

… when he officially disappeared in 2014, so before Jon’s time as Head Archivist, and while Gertrude was still in tenure. Has Annabelle been updating him about them?

Really curious about next episode and what Salesa will discuss with the boys. Will he talk of Peter with Martin?

- I think there is a chance that Annabelle will have already left when Jon&Martin wake up, since they were Salesa’s guests and Annabelle was just leading and leaving them to him. Would be… extremely typical of her to remain full of secrets a bit longer (and Jon&Martin would be frustrated as heck). Or not! It could be the time to reveal her intention, it could be a joint statement, or she could stay as an observer, or she could talk with Martin.

- Anyway, cheers for Jon&Martin getting their second honeymoon (on their anniversary, for us, since the episode aired the week of September 25, the day MAG159 happened)! And Jon is sleeping! Coma and instances where he mentioned that he would nap or get some rest notwithstanding, I think this is only the second time in the show that he’s canonically taking a rest?

(MAG055) ARCHIVIST: Supplemental. I… Uh, I don’t have much to report, actually. It’s been Halloween week, which means the research department is always inundated with statements. Most of them are patently false, but the volume means that they’ve called in the Archive to assist with the overflow. It’s… been nice, actually. Disproving piles of nonsense felt good. Like… real work, not just driving myself to distraction with [CHUCKLES] conspiracy theories and paranoia. I even got a good night’s sleep.

(Although yeah, he technically passed out this time again, and he’s done a lot of that in the past already. Still, congrats, Jon /o/)

I really wonder about the logistics of it: Salesa was described as almost 6’6”/200cm-tall according to MAG045, and looking “like he could handle himself”, so he might be carrying Jon&Martin to bed? (Or I guess that many many small spiders could do the job if needed.) Will they wake up in the same room or in separate ones? Same bed? I wonder if the episode will begin with them waking up, or already having been in the house for a bit, and the tape recorder clicking on only for a big discussion… Though another possibility is that there would have been some hidden conversations having happened off-tape already.

- Mmm, since Melanie&Georgie have also been impossible to find:

(MAG164) MARTIN: Uh, oh, okay. Hum… How are the others? ARCHIVIST: I, uh… [STATIC INCREASES] Hm! I’m… I’m not… sure, I–I can’t really see Melanie o–or–or Georgie. MARTIN: They’re dead…? ARCHIVIST: No… No, I–I don’t think so; if they were dead, I– I think I would know that, I just… I–I don’t know… where they are, w–what they’re doing. [STATIC DECREASES] MARTIN: Hm! ARCHIVIST: L–London, maybe? […] At least with Georgie and Melanie, I have a vague sense they’re still alive, i–in London, and, or– Well, what was London.

(MAG177) BASIRA: Convenient. What about Melanie? MARTIN: He’s… not sure about her either? He can’t see her or Georgie. BASIRA: Dead, then. [STATIC INCREASES, THEN FADES] ARCHIVIST: [INHALE] No. Uh, not dead. Just… hidden, somehow.

Jon had given an explanation regarding his inability to see what was inside the Panopticon (MAG164: “The, the way this works, this… “new sight”, the knowledge is, is… [SIGH] It’s somehow wrapped up in the Panopticon? An eye can’t… see inside itself.”), we know that his inability to see Annabelle was different from Georgie&Melanie (MAG164: “That’s… weird, I, I know The Web was wrapped around that phone, but, but I can’t… see her. A–at all.”), that his inability to “know” and “see” The Web’s plans had to do with the fact that its plans were too intricate (MAG172: “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.”). Unless they’ve been travelling too, Georgie and Melanie should be in London, so they shouldn’t be in the house if it is indeed Upton House, nor in Hill Top Road (Oxford), but we might get material to speculate why Jon can’t see them at the moment (and why he couldn’t see Annabelle) through the explanation regarding this house?

- Given that at least two of Jon’s powers are getting cancelled by the house (“Wait, hang on, can you even smite people here?” “I, I don’t think so.” + his inability to Know anything about this place)… do his other powers, such as compulsion, work in there? Will Salesa give a live statement? … Can Jon even compel in this house (since he can’t “smite”), or would it lead to a mess like MAG100 but with Jon struggling this time.

Given how he had been sustaining on fear already before MAG160, can he get sustenance from normal food while inside the house, or will he quickly begin to feel withdrawal symptoms again? Given how he had healed from injuries thanks to his powers (already in season 4, and having been hurt by Daisy last episode), and how Martin reminded us twice that Jon’s leg had been injured, would the house affect that, too – will Jon begin to crumble, without The Eye’s influence? (Will Jon even wake up as long as they’re in the house? He had woken up from his coma in MAG121 by choosing Beholding over death…) If Jon happens to be cut from The Eye inside… ooft, it’s heart-breaking to remember how curious Jon is by himself, without any supernatural influence; he was extremely curious about the house because of not knowing anything about it, and he immediately asked Annabelle questions about her presence and plans when she was leading them to Salesa…

(I doubt the answer would be positive anyway but: they’ll… probably wonder whether the house could have saved Daisy from The Hunt, cutting her from it like the Coffin had done? ;;)

- Once again, interesting to note that, at the very least, Jon’s powers aren’t working as they did in the apocalypse, preventing him from being all-powerful inside the house… but the tape recorder remained on, when they entered, and continued to run after they had collapsed, only clicking off a bit later. If this place happens to be neutralising The Eye, it might be another confirmation that it is not Beholding behind the recordings? (But if this place happens to be neutralising/cancelling all the Fears, what would that say about the tape recorders then…?)

- Jon and Martin began season 5 in the safehouse, which trapped Jon with a false sense of security (“But we can’t stay in this cabin forever…!” “Why not? It, it’s quiet here, an–and I have you…!”); Jon’s enthusiasm about potentially-Upton-House reminds me a bit of the fact that he could get reeled in by domains… So is it another domain, which would manipulate him into wanting to stay, stopping their journey? Is it a place powered by the nearby necropolis and the suffering of others? Or is it, indeed, a place protected from The Eye and/or all the fears, without any caveat or “trick”, where Martin and Jon could indeed choose to stay… if they’d agree to abandon their quest, to let the apocalypse go on to torture everyone who doesn’t happen to be them? It could fit very well with the exploration of exploitative and oppressive systems from the series; what about the temptation of letting everything go to hell as long as Jon and the person he loves are protected in that “oasis”, in a little bubble of privilege and safety? Could they even be happy there, while knowing people are still suffering outside, and that the only people able to find a solution to undo the apocalypse might be them? Martin alluded to the children of The Dark domain in this episode (“Wait. Wait, wait, no, no, no, no, no, no! It’s not more children, is it?”) and learning about their situation had only strengthened his resolve to reach the Panopticon in order to do something (MAG173: “The sooner we get back to the Archives, the sooner we can put a stop to this. All of this. They just… They’ll just need to hang on a little longer.”); there is not a lot of suspense about whether they would choose to stay there or not. Contrary to what Salesa said, they don’t really have “all the time in the world” when it means that others are suffering longer in the meantime. But the temptation to stay might still be there, and it might still hurt them to have to abandon it – forming another “what if they had stayed?” scenario to twist the knife when things… inevitably go down for them before the end of the show.

(We’ll see how the house affects Jon when it comes to his Beholding-affiliation; but the Jon we saw in MAG180 was at his most excited and enthusiastic. Would Martin get tempted to protect Jon’s happiness? For Jon, the temptation to have Martin stay there might be even stronger: he had already offered Martin to stay in the Lonely house… but it was still a place of misery. What about here, if it’s a place where Martin could genuinely be safe and fine?)

Aaaaand we’ve reached season 5’s midpoint with such a big surprise! (I’m a bit sad that this one wasn’t followed by a hiatus, since we could have had a gigantic wave of fanworks&headcanons about Jon&Martin living The Luxury Life in Upton House, The SafeHouse Returns.)

MAG181’s title sure puts to my mind a few banger lines from different seasons… 83 It could be about something Tim had bitterly said; it could be about what Annabelle wanted and something she needed from Jon&Martin (and what for); it could be about Annabelle&Jon’s own forced involvement with the Fears; it could be about Salesa’s; it could be about the temptation of staying in the country house, safe and protected while the world is still forked outside. Lore-episode? If there are dominant Fears, I would say Beholding and/or The Dark?

#tma liveblog #mag180 #tma season 5 #long post/#tma spoilers/#the magnus archives

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