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lustbile-archive · 4 years

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Wanna Watch?

YangyangxReader

Word Count: 3.2k

Summary/Warning: Smut. Yangyang swears that tentacles are hot, just watch one video with him and you’ll see. He promises.… this was supposed to be a blurb but then I got very carried away. and because of that it might be a little rambley at some parts im so sorry

Requested

You’d be the first to admit that you and Yangyang had a weird friendship. Your other friends had clocked it, saying that even for best friends, you were way too open with each other.

And they weren’t technically wrong. Something about being around Yangyang deleted your filter, made you say shit that you never thought you’d say to another human being, but in your defense, he was exactly the same way.

It started with a few dirty jokes. It wasn’t anything serious or any different than ones you’d say with or without each other, but you two did encourage each other. It was as if anything one of you said, the other had something to add. It didn’t take long for things to begin to spiral and for your friends to decide that you two together were lethal.

After that day it was like you were attached at the hip. Something about your shared vulgarness made you click and it wasn’t very long after until it went a little far.

It was the first time you stayed over at his place, a bottle of liquor tucked in your bag. Tipsy off a half a bottle each, you both let it slip what turned you on the most. It wasn’t weird at the time, but the next morning there was a tension there.

That tension eventually faded, leading to another sleep over. And another. And another. Each of them somehow leading to some form of sexual conversation.

But the one that happened tonight was different.

Some joke about porn was made. You two sat side by side in your own chairs as you watched him play some game you quickly forgot the name of, and he had deemed it appropriate to mention that it would be kinda hot if the woman he played as were to get fucked by the tentacle monster that she fought.

You started by jokingly scolding him about how, though you weren’t sure exactly in what way, what he said was chauvinistic. But then you followed it with teasing about how he was a weirdo for being into tentacles.

“Oh come on,” he goes on, much louder than he needed to be, “you cannot tell me you’ve never looked at tentacle porn. Not even just because you were curious?”

“What porn I watch is none of your business Yang,” you retort as you push your finger in his face, a bratty giggle bursting from you when he smacks your hand away in irritation.

“So you’re not denying that you’ve seen tentacle porn,” he hums, nodding to himself, “if that’s the case I’m just gonna assume you have.”

You move to retort again, but he quickly interrupts, “actually I’m going to assume that you only watch tentacle porn and it’s something you get off to very often.”

“You think about me getting off a lot Yangyang?” you ask, but you quickly realize maybe the question was a step too far once the words are in the air.

Thankfully, he seems to ignore your question as he suddenly closed his game, the incognito tab he opens immediately after making your mouth run dry.

“How about this,” he starts, his fingers running across the keyboard as he types in the the link to a porn site. You divert your eyes quickly when you see the bars auto fill pop up, the idea of seeing whatever he looked at when he forgot to go incognito making your stomach flip, “let’s just take a little peek and we’ll see who’s right.”

“See who’s right about what?” your voice pitches and your back straightens as you ask.

“About whether or not tentacles are hot,” he turns to you briefly as if he’s explaining a math equation to you, “come on dude keep up.”

“Man I don’t know,” you hesitate, but you quickly notice he already has a video picked out and queued.

“I’m not gonna force you to watch it if you don’t want,” he reassures as he hovers his cursor over the play button, “but I also won’t judge you if you’re curious.”

You gnaw on your bottom lip for a moment as you think, your heart beating faster as the seconds pass, “okay fine just play it before I change my mind.”

And that’s how you got where you are now. You and Yangyang curled into your chairs, eyes wide and curious as a slender woman, with a disproportionately large chest, screams and whines while she’s brutally fucked by a weird tentacle monster.

You feel your face twist in fascination, first at the amount of detail and time that must have went into animating each frame, but then slowly but surely, just how weirdly hot you found yourself finding the video.

Something about the way the multiple tentacles cover her body as they suspend her in the air. One is shoved deep in her mouth, gross gagging noises added as a result, two attached to both of her nipples and another set fucking her open from both holes. It was easily one of the weirdest things you’ve ever seen, but you couldn’t ignore the growing wetness it caused in your underwear.

You try to not let it show in your body language, the idea of Yangyang noticing your arousal and then most likely making fun of you for it making you want to crawl in a hole.

You eyes dart over to him for a moment to try and gauge how he’s feeling. The first thing you notice immediately is the way he curls to block your view of his crotch, the second being the fact that he looks at you as well.

“So… what are you thinking?” he asks slowly.

“I don’t know what are you thinking?” you throw back almost too quickly.

“I… I think you know what I’m thinking,” his words continue to spill out like molasses, his head quickly nodding to the space between his legs with a embarrassed flush to his skin, “I’m asking how you’re feeling.”

“I don’t know,” you double down, your head shaking with a jerk, “I- I don’t know how I’m feeling.”

“It’s okay if you like it-“

“I don’t know if I like it,” you lie, your tone defensive and sharp.

“You do know that you’re not a bad person for liking it right?” He continues to reassure as he tries to keep his patience with you.

You only huff in response, the video still loudly playing as you talk. You try to shift in your seat to create distance between you, but it only makes you aware of how your arousal grows.

“Okay im not gonna lie,” he starts, a joking tone to his voice in the way that tells you he’s trying to ease the tension, “I think it’s hot, but you probably guessed that. I’m just saying I could totallly jack it to this.”

You know it’s a joke, but that doesn’t stop the words from making your face warm and your thighs flex. And even though you try and advert your eyes, you know he is analyzing every move you make.

“Do you maybe…” he trails off as he considers what to say next, “ack, no no it’s weird never mind.”

“What?” you dart up in panic, “is something im doing weird?”

“No no no,” he panics as well, “you’re fine… I was just gonna ask if you... if you maybe wanted to see how much you like it. Like see if you can get off to it?”

It was in this you found out that maybe your friends were right. Maybe you were lethal together, too comfortable and relaxed and willing to do and say the worst in front of each other. If that wasn’t the case there was no way in hell you’d end up where you were now.

If someone had told you that when you first met Yangyang that one night you two would be masturbating to tentacle porn together, you would have told them they lived in a fantasy, that they were just delusional perverts that don’t like people being just friends, but they would have been right.

You felt weirdly eager as you pushed your pajama shorts and underwear to his floor, the air of the room hitting your skin and making you come to the terms of how wet the video had gotten you.

And the fact that Yangyang seemed equally as eager as he pulled himself from the restrains of his sweatpants both put you at ease while putting you incredibly in edge.

You tried to ignore him as he sat next to you. Your eyes taking an iron lock onto his screen as a new video played. It was the same idea, pretty girl with literally any possible hole stuffed with a slimy tentacle getting pleasured in any way possible, the only difference was a slight change in art style.

It took you a moment to get into it, your fingers gently tapping against your clit as you tried to build the courage to touch yourself the same way you do in the safety of your own room, but after one particularly hard thrust from the monster and a desperate cry from the girl, you couldn’t hold back.

Your fingers dipped into your entrance gently as you coated the tips in your arousal, your hips jumping slightly at the friction.

Yangyang tried to ignore you as well, his fist moving slowly as he tried to focus on the scene in front of him, but the way you jerked next to him and the bubbles of noise that slipped unintentionally from your lips, he felt like a starving tiger being tempted with a steak.

You tried to bite your tongue to hold in any moans as your fingers started to roll circles gently on your clit, but with the way you grew wetter and wetter and the rising sensitivity in the bundle of nerves, you couldn’t help the quiet whimpering that rose from you chest.

It wasn’t that you could get off to it, it was actually much easier than you had anticipated. Something about the way the girls in the videos were being stimulated in every way possible had you hot and dripping in your arousal, and maybe your best friend pleasuring himself next to you was making it a million times sexier.

You weren’t alone though. It didn’t take long for Yangyang to lose his internal battle, his eyes straining to his side and his gaming chair rolling back slightly to allow him to watch you from the side. He knew he could crank one out easily to the videos in front of him, he had done it plenty of times before, but if he let the opportunity of watching your chest rise and fall with labored breaths while your fingers moved quickly over your dampened skin pass him by, he’d be kicking himself forever.

He was moving before he could even think, the finger of his free hand working with a mind of his own as they tap gently on the side of your chair. His heart beat sky rockets when you jump, but he only feels himself get harder when he sees it doesn’t stop your rapidly moving hand.

“Say no,” he whispers regardless of his growing need to touch you, “say no cause I cannot ruin this friendship.”

“No offense Yang,” he almost collapses at how winded you sound, but also at the promise that you’re still comfortable enough to shorten his name, “but if what we’re doing now didn’t ruin it, I don’t think anything will.”

“Thank fuck,” he speaks too loudly again as he moves his chair next to yours, his hand brushing against the side of your bare leg as it leans against the arm of your chair, “cause I wanna touch you so bad dude.”

“Hmmmm,” you hum out as his words swirl your brain like a blender, your heart rapidly pumping against your chest. You’d be a liar if you tried to act like the idea didn’t cause a new wave of arousal run over your body. Your answer comes before you can even think of the consequences.

“Please,” the word being your only verbal response before you rip your hand away from your body, your legs falling wider apart as an invitation. Your body jumps in protest as you deny yourself the orgasm that was slowly building, and Yangyang immediately jumps into action to compensate.

The first touch of his fingers is unsure, a hesitation in his muscles as he tries to convince himself that what’s happening is real. He isn’t sure what’s hotter to him in that moment, the way you whimper with a slight pout to your lips when he finally presses his digits to your swollen clit, or the way your eyes remain locked on the animated porn.

He’s battling between the two, when you show him something better. Your hand moves wildly in the air for only a moment, before you're pushing it under his arm. It doesn’t take you much exploring before you find where his hand slowly moves against his length. Your hand swats gently at his in a way that weirdly reminds him of the way you swat at him when he does something he’s not supposed to, and after his brain catches up with your motions, he lets go.

He thinks his heart probably stops when your hand wraps around him, your wrist immediately moving at the same pace as his fingers. His eyes slam shut for a second, a desperate attempt to hold off his orgasm, before they open slightly again.

He tries to do the same as you and keep his eyes trained on the video, and it works a few times, but as you gush and twitch against his unrelentingly moving fingers. He feels like one of his biggest fantasies has come to life in front of him, the whining sound of his name from your lips music to his ears.

You babble and squirm, your orgasm approaching you much faster than it has ever before. There’s something so jarring and new about the video that flashes in front of your eyes, and combining that with your best friend playing you not much differently than he’d played his game not long before made you feel like you were losing your grip on reality.

You’re vaguely aware that your hand flexes around his length, and fear that maybe your hold may be too rough immediately leaving your mind when you hear him let out a pleased groan. The sound also momentarily replaces the fear that filled you from actually looking at the boy that sits next to you, and you feel your head jerking to look at his face scrunched in pleasure.

The wind is knocked from your lungs when your eyes meet his again, neither of your stares faltering like you assumed they would. Instead the eye contact encourages you both, and you feel your hands pick up their pace.

You thank the universe for Yangyang’s reflexes as he finds no trouble in following your antsy jerking hips, his fingers never shifting away from your buzzing clit. He’s also completely unfazed as your thighs clamp around his wrist, and instead his now free hand moves to grab at your knee that’s closest to him, and pull harshly to hold your legs spread.

The angle his body is now turned leaves him leaning on his side, and he shows no hesitation to using the new position to his advantage as he begins thrusting his hips to fuck your fist.

You feel as if there’s another force around you that forces you to stare at one another, your hands and hips becoming frantic as you both inch closer and closer to your finish.

The video had ended moments before, but neither of you move to choose another. Too distracted by the other bodies, both of your breaths pick up right before the point of hyperventilating.

You feel yourself right on the edge, the beginning of your orgasm making your toes curl and your back arch off the back of the chair. Just from the stimulation on your clit, you can feel yourself falling, but when he notices that you’re starting to crumble, his fingers slip down until they push into you making you gasp loudly.

With his middle and ring finger pistoning in you at the same pace as his hips and the heel of his hand digging and rubbing into your clit, you finally start to come. If it wasn’t for his determined pace, your fluttering walls would push him out, but he fights against your body with a deep grunt as he curls the digits to pull against the nerve inside you that makes your eyes roll back into your skull.

With your mouth hanging open, silent moans and squeaking whimpers popping from your throat, he’s sure he stares at a defiled angel. He knew he always found you attractive, even more attractive when you first took his raunchy jokes in stride, but as you come so beautifully around his fingers, he decides you’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen.

Just watching your come is enough to push him over the edge, but as it makes your muscles tense, your hand flexes and shakes as you hold him. With a few more pulses of his hips, he’s coming with his lip tucked between his teeth and his eyes trained on where you wrap around his fingers, your noise of surprise at the feeling of his come shooting across your hand only making his orgasm stronger.

With shaking legs, he falls back into his chair, his hand pulling from your sensitive skin, and his softening length slipping from your fingers.

Silence falls over the room, the only sound being the angry sound of his computer's fan and your evening breaths. You pull your limbs into your body as you try to get more comfortable in the seat, and as you try to wrap your arms around yourself, you notice the evidence of his orgasm that sticks to the side of your hand.

You’re moving before you can even think about your actions or how weird they could be to the boy next to you, your hand lifting up to your face and you tongue peaking out to lick at the sticky substance. You jerk slightly at the taste, but in a thought of self challenge and a simple ‘fuck it,’ you slide the flat of your tongue up the side of your hand, collecting everything he left behind, before swallowing deeply.

You hear a muffled sound of surprise to your side, the sound making your head whip to the side as you remembered your possible audience. Your heart beats fast as you panic at the idea of him finding your action gross, but as you look you see him in a very similar position.

Yangyang grins around his fingers that were once drenched in your orgasm, but now sit licked clean in his teasing mouth. There’s a slight popping noise as he pulls them hesitantly from his lips, and his devious smile only grows before he speaks.

“Oh so we’re both like gross, gross huh?”

#nct smut #wayv smut #yangyang smut #nct imagine #wayv imagine

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reynaruina · 3 years

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(PT Dib AU) Grief

Chapter One: Morning After

The smell hit him first. Something roasting slowly in an oven. Chicken and... potatoes, perhaps?

It was a cozy, painfully homey smell, intermingling in the air with the distinct scent of Zim's house, filling Dib up with yearning and dread. It assaulted his nostrils enough to slowly pull him out of the dream world. However, even though Dib wasn't keen on returning to the sorrowful dream he'd been trapped inside all night, he wasn't too into the idea of waking up either.

Against his better judgement, in spite of his impulse to bolt out the front door once again, Dib decided to stay put. He evened out his breathing and lay still, eyes loosely closed, trying his best to appear asleep even though the loud beating of his anxious, treacherous heart could be heard from a mile away.

There was noise too, and close by. Footsteps in the kitchen, tiny ones, coming and going from spot to spot. Something bubbling on the stovetop; the sound of a kitchen knife chopping away; Zim mumbling to himself as the oven door creaked open. That delicious scent came barreling down towards the couch like an avalanche, landing on Dib’s chest just as heavily.

Dib felt a tear roll down his cheek. His brain was only now slowly emerging into the waking world, and with it came memories of the day before. The tidal wave of sludge they had turned into threatened to rot the very scent of homemade food in the air, and he couldn't stand it.

Once the footsteps left for some adjacent room, Dib made his move. Swiftly he opened his eyes, pulling off the soft sheets, rolling off the couch and onto the floor as silently as he could. He avoided the breakfast plate on the floor as well, trying not to look at it, trying to block out the smells inundating the house. He got up, facing the closed front door, feeling the presence of the kitchen behind him as if Medusa herself were standing there, waiting for him to give into temptation and turn around. Weirdly enough, the rotten sludge of thoughts sloshing around in his brain-case gave him enough courage to focus. He stepped up to the door, grabbed the doorknob and tugged.

It was locked.

“Fuck.”

Dib turned the doorknob one way and the other, hoping it maybe was just stuck, pulling with both hands, his desperation growing as the door refused to open. He began fumbling with his coat, digging in the pockets, hoping to find his lockpicking kit when—

“Wait!! Don’t leave!!”

Dib almost jumped. He’d never even heard Zim coming back. His grip on the door tightened, and he began to tug more fiercely. Perhaps he’d have to kick it down...

“Dib-human, please… Just give Zim a moment to explain. I’ll let you go, just let me talk first.”

Frozen in place, eyes fixated on the door, Dib diverted all his willpower to keep himself from turning around. He knew what he’d be in store for, he’d caught glimpses of Zim cooking before. The sight of Zim standing on a stool in the kitchen, with an apron on, trying to arrange the contents of one of his lunch boxes had done...things to him. And that was when he was in an arguably better state of mind.

Zim sounded desperate, pained, remorseful. Dib couldn’t look at him, couldn’t let the visuals add to the sounds and smells, couldn’t… It’d be too easy for his nemesis to…

“What do you want?” He was faking the harsh tone; surely even Zim could tell. A dull pain in his forehead, present for a bit now, was starting to take a turn for the worse.

“I….Zim wants to apologize.”

A full body shiver. The disgusting little insect knew exactly what to say.

“For what?!”

“For missing...for not bringing you any food in the last...few days. I am very sorry for that. It wasn’t intentional.”

It sure wasn’t, the demon voice in Dib’s head whispered sarcastically. He ran to it for protection. He needed the strength, his legs felt like giving up. He slumped against the door, trying to stay upright, head feeling like it’d split open at any moment.

“There’s nothing...noth-thing...to apologize for. We never had any agreement about this, you just...it’s all on you for...doing...that—”

Speaking was difficult. Something rang fiercely in his ears.

“That's not true!” Zim responded. “I… I made a habit of bringing you food every day. You accepted it, expected it, and I didn't show up for days. I'm sorry.”

“Y-you're wrong,” Dib mouthed, lying through his teeth despite his heart's protests. “I never took them for granted, I knew you'd st-stop someday. I never fell for it.”

There was silence for a moment. Dib tried to force the door open once again.

“Fell… fell for what?” Zim's confused voice answered.

Dib just kept tugging. He knew better than to answer.

“Fell for what?!”

“Unlock the damn door, Zim!!”

“NO! I need you to hear me out!! I need you to answer!!”

Dib tried to kick the door down. His headache raged after a single try, and he gave up.

“Answer what now?!”

“What do you mean by ‘I never fell for it’? Fell for what, exactly?!”

Dib growled under his breath. He rubbed his temples, gripping the doorknob with enough force to hurt.

“You’re not gonna make me say it.”

“Then you’re not leaving,” Zim said coldly.

Dib moved to the side, grabbing the windowsill, trying to pry it open. No luck. He punched the glass and Zim screamed, lunging forward.

“Dib!! No! You’re gonna hurt yourself!!”

“DON’T TOUCH ME!!” Dib felt a hand approaching and backed into the window, almost trying to fuse with the wall, his breathing worked up and raspy. “DON’T FUCKING TOUCH ME!! I WILL FUCKING CUT YOU ZIM, I SWEAR!!”

He heard him back off, deflating like a balloon. Dib bit his lip. It physically hurt, going so against his deepest desires, but...it was necessary.

“All right, I won’t, just please...don’t punch the window.”

“Open the door.”

“I will, just—”

“OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR RIGHT FUCKING NOW!!”

“I WILL OPEN THE STUPID DOOR JUST LISTEN FOR A SECOND!!”

Dib breathed out, eyes downcast, trying to calm his heart down. He kept quiet, and Zim took that as permission to speak.

“L-look, I don't know what... what you thought I was doing by bringing you food every day. I could tell you why I was doing it myself, but I know you wouldn't believe me…”

Zim paused. Dib knew why. He was baiting him, expecting him to pry for a reason, but Dib knew better. He wasn't a dumb child anymore, to fall for these tricks.

Dib remained silent. Zim continued after a moment. His voice sounded so... defeated.

“S-so yeah, I knew you were expecting the food every day. And I could see... could see you getting anxious about me not bringing any for days, but I couldn't.. I... I was having... trouble trying to get anything edible made. B-but I'm better now! And I'm sorry I didn't get you anything for that long. It's not gonna happen again.”

“You don't have to apologise.”

Dib's voice was hoarse. He was making great efforts not to cry. Zim, talking to him like this...it was almost too much to bear.

“I know. But I’m still doing it. Because going missing for days like that wasn’t intentional on my part.”

Silence, again. Zim continued.

“It won’t happen again. If for any reason I can’t bring you lunch one day, I’ll let you know beforehand. A-and I won’t f-force my food on you if you get something else that day. That much I can promise.”

For a minute after, Dib kept quiet. Then…

“Will you open the door now?”

Zim took a second to reply.

“Did you hear what I just said?”

“You said you’d open the door, Zim.” Dib was growing restless, impatient.

“I just need to know if you’ve h—”

“I said there’s nothing to apologize for!”

“I’m not asking for forgiveness!!” Zim was lying. Dib could tell by his tone of voice. It didn’t...feel real. None of this did. “I’m just...I need you to acknowledge what I said. I need to know you know this won’t happen again.”

Dib sighed.

“Okay, all right, I acknowledge it, whatever. Now, open the d—”

A little ‘click’ was heard as the door unlocked. Zim said something more, but by then Dib was already out and crossing the front lawn, almost tripping four or five times as he bolted away from the house.

Once more he ran and ran, not looking back until the house was well out of view. And then, only then, he dared to look back.

Zim hadn’t followed. Dib whined.

He kept walking, like a dead man just brought back from the grave, until he found a small alleyway to sneak into. And then, hidden away from the prying eyes of passersby, he sat on the ground and screamed into his hands.

He wouldn’t be back at his apartment until two hours later. By that time, something was already waiting for him on the windowsill.

——-

Pt 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34

#zadr #zim #dib #iz #invader zim #ponytail dib au #first multi-chapter fic for this au :D!#this one's kinda short but I can promise the rest will be longer #we've just passed the peak of the rollecoaster folks #it's all downhill from here

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witchyfrankincense · 3 years

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La Méprise (part two)

Spencer Reid x fem!Reader

Summary: You start history with Spencer Reid in your university auditorium.

Warnings: angst, gross men, panic attacks, mentions of sexual harassment, reminding of trauma, Criminal Minds season 8 spoilers, anxiety, thoughts about gore/violence; comfort from Spencer<33

❁❁❁❁❁❁

Friday.

The next morning, you woke up feeling enthusiastic. Yesterday's talk with Spencer left you warm-hearted, and the thought of hopefully meeting him again today made you uncontrollably smile first thing in the morning. As usual, you got ready by eating breakfast and washing up, later strolling up to your closet. Again, the thought of meeting Spencer made you want to be even prettier and well-dressed – which is why you decided to go with a patterned black and white dress with sewed on lace lines highlighting your chest. To pair with that, you threw on an oversized black leather jacket and platform boots. You even did a little bit more makeup than usual, casually looking over at the time so you wouldn't end up late.

What was this? Were you trying to impress him?

Why not? And what if you were?

You happily walked out of your rented apartment, humming a song as you felt unusually cheerful. About twenty minutes later, you were already walking through the corridors of the university. However, unsurprisingly to you, anxiety was already simmering in your chest, making you quietly cough it out, smiling to yourself. Someone in front of you widened the gap of the opened door and you squeezed by, your eyes flying up to the seats again.

And, yet, there he was, again.

He didn't look up at you, but as you squinted you noticed his lip corners turn upwards in a smile, and go back down, as if trying to not give himself away. The cover of his held book indicated that he was indulging in a different book than yesterday. 187 IQ, how many books does he read per day?

You began stepping up the stairs, looking down at your shoes as you walked. This time you turned to the aisles earlier than usual, mentally saying sorry for your previous seat. "Hi," you mumbled, dropping your bag on the floor and sitting down. Spencer lifted his head up at you and smiled, putting his book aside and leaning down his bag. "Hi. And, by the way, I found the other two notebooks from this class, so, yeah, you can have them if you want," he softly spoke. His gentle voice and action struck you by surprise and your smile widened. "I cannot thank you enough!" you exclaimed, later leaning against the backrest.

"The Fisher King by Leonore Fleischer," you heard him quietly mutter, making you chuckle and turn your head to him. "Oh, nice. One of my favorites, too," you muttered back, keeping the same tone as him. He smiled wider, nodding.

"So," you continued, pulling away from him and leaning one arm on the back of the seat. "So," Spencer repeated, looking up at you in slight interest. "How many times are you planning on coming to this lecture?" you spoke, pondering. He looked back at the professor. "I, don't know. The atmosphere, it's just so...comforting."

"They just let you come here?"

"Yeah. They know me, so, they do, I guess," he trailed off, mumbling.

Out of nowhere, the ambiance turned tense. As if all the molecules and atoms began flying just a bit slower, making the air viscous. Barely breathable. You subconsciously straightened your back, still not being sure of what this feeling was and where it came from. However, a few moments later, you possibly found out. The seat to your left filled up with human warmth. Not only that, but the smell of cologne, too. Perhaps that was what made the air so stiff.

"Is this seat taken?"

A harsher sounding voice reached your thoughts – uncomfortably sultry. "No," you replied, shifting to your right side. Stealing a look to your left, however, you made somewhat of eye contact with another black-haired man. You realized it was your intuition that made you so weirded out and tense. Instantly leaning on the back of the chair and spreading his legs further, this man let out a chuckle. One that you, as a, so to say, person with a uterus, had heard tons of times before and knew what came with. "My name's Mike," he spoke out, gesturing to you. You nodded with a tight-lipped smile. After a few moments of silence, he reached out again. "What about you?"

"Y/N," you answered. Spencer slightly turned his head to look at your interaction and you caught his eyes meeting Mike's. No words came out either's mouths. Mike's uncomfortable aura spread even more, reaching your chair – as if standing in a gooey puddle. "It's my last year here," the man exclaimed. You nodded again. "Me too." Mike grinned. "Where do you plan on working? I'm sure you have a great plan."

"The FBI," you bounced off, crossing your legs. He smiled again. "Wow. Honorable. You know, you're so pretty. Why choose a career like this?" "It was either this or being a veterinarian," you answered. "Cool, cool. Well, I think you'd be a great vet. Lots of loving pet dads, taking care of their animals and having the pleasure to look at that," he gestured to you, pointing down your dress. You scoffed, feeling something sour bubble at the back of your throat. "I'd surely not choose to be a vet just because there are men who'd like how I look. Thank you," you quietly laughed, coughing.

The air simmered again – this time coming from Mike's side. "It was a compliment." He pointed out, crossing his arms and chuckling. "I know."

A barely audible cough came from Spencer, making you smile to yourself. "Something wrong, dude?" Mike leaned on his forearms against his knees, taking a look at Spencer. Spencer just smiled. "No, I mean, no." "Oh no, yeah, you're just laughing at me 'cause I'm so pathetic, right? Trying to pick a girl up, right? At least I can strike up a conversation with a woman," the man began talking, shifting closer to your chair. You leaned to your right, somewhat seeking comfort from the newly found friend, Spencer.

"I mean, at least I don't approach women in learning or work environments knowing that they are more likely to give me their phone number or agree to meet again as a ruse to get back to their intended mindset," Spencer slowly mumbled, lifting his head from his book to steal a look at Mike. You could barely contain the laughter that bubbled from your stomach, placing your chin on your palm to hide your growing grin. Man, he was good.

Mike seemed to get irritated, however shot Spencer a sly smile and leaned towards you. "Women like me. I never lie about that." As soon as the words left his mouth you felt a weirdly warm object on your knee – looking down you realized that it was Mike's hand, now for some reason calmly sitting on your bare skin. "Take your hands off of me. I will not repeat that." You bit down on your own teeth as hard as you could, viciously turning to the aforementioned man.

"There she is. Y/N. I like this version way better than that shy little angel," Mike laughed out, slightly sliding his palm off your knee.

You breathed in, staring down at the ground, your eyes blinking rapidly a few times. You felt Spencer tense beside you, and before hearing the sound of his shoes on the floor as he grounded himself to stand up, you roughly shoved Mike's hand off your knee, standing up before Spencer could. "Leave. I am fucking telling you, to leave." Not seeing any signs of agreement on the bastard's face, your muscles acted on their own when you lifted your hand up to slap him in the face. Your heart sank as you once again saw aggressive pleasure on his face.

You took a step back, swiftly walking around Mike and turning right towards the exit. As you quickly ran down the stairs, you heard Spencer's voice exclaim something along the lines of him being an FBI agent. As you turned around, for a split second you noticed Spencer holding his FBI badge in Mike's face. However, you just turned back around to face the auditorium door and left the room.

Your cheeks burnt with anger – you raised your cold hands to press them on your cheeks. Racing time, you power-walked through the long corridor, fighting the tears welling up in the corners of your eyes.

Fuck men. Fuck men. Fuck this.

"Y/N!" you shook, hearing someone shout behind you. You didn't stop walking. "Hey, hey, it's me, Spencer," you heard again, finally recognizing his voice. You slowed your pace, biting your lip angrily.

Great, now you're going to cry in front of a man you met a day ago?

"I'm so sorry," you choked out, stopping next to a wall to try and collect yourself. "No, no, hey. Don't be sorry. Forget him. It's okay," Spencer's voice softened, making you want to cry even more. "Please, please do not say that everything is okay. I'll start crying," you forcibly spoke, wiping your eyes with your palms. You saw Spencer quickly nod. Panic began rising in your chest, restricting your breathing. "Oh, no," you whispered weakly, shoving your face in your hands. "No, no, no. Fuck, sorry, I might have a panic attack, okay. Fuck."

You inhaled, whispering nothings to yourself to calm down, and later exhaling in ragged sighs. Your body was still producing loud, piercing alarms throughout, well, you. "Why am I even panicking if nothing, oh my god, nothing happened," you laughed painfully, continuing to try and breathe.

"Y/N, breathe." Spencer shushed, breathing in and out along with you, trying to slightly calm you down.

You closed your eyes, lightly biting down on your lower lip and hanging your head down. After taking your time with your breathing, you suddenly lifted your head up and struggled to stand. "I'm fine," you exclaimed in a not so convincing tone. Spencer began protesting only for you to turn to him and weakly smile. "I'm really okay. Thank you."

You saw a moment of hesitation on his face before he opened his mouth. "Can I walk you home?" he quietly asked, softly turning to face you. Your heart filled with warmth again and you nodded, looking down at Spencer's hands, seeing him holding your belongings. "Oh, right, I forgot my bag," you whispered, shooting him a warm smile. "Thank you." He smiled back.

Suddenly, a phone call broke the silence. Spencer immediately fished his phone out of his pocket and shot you a guilty look as he dived in the nearest bathroom. The air around you got cold after his leave, so you wrapped your arms around yourself. After merely a few moments of you getting lost in your mind alone, you began to hear footsteps. Seconds later, you felt it again. The scent. It reached your nose, once again burning into your mind with worry. "Spencer," you spoke quietly to yourself, feeling anxiety wash over you. Just as you started turning around, the same harsh voice as before shouted your name. It was Mike.

"Hey there, pretty lady," he shouted. You could tell he was rapidly speeding his walking pace. "Go away," you replied, backing up against the wall as you felt your voice waver. "Where are you going, cutie? Leaving so soon?" Mike responded, ignoring your words. You worryingly looked at the bathroom door, mentally hurrying Spencer and whoever was calling him.

You shouldn't have worn that dress today.

"Leave us alone. Please, leave," you spoke out, staring at the man walking closer and closer towards you. "Us?" Mike exclaimed, slowing his pace down. "You're still with that boyfriend of yours? Come on," he muttered, finishing the small distance between you two. You pressed yourself even more against the cold and lifeless wall, hoping to travel through, hoping that the atoms of it would separate, giving you the perfect space to move away. "You know I'd treat you right. Don't be scared of me. I don't hurt women. Never," he confirmed confidently, but somehow you weren't convinced.

"If you respected women," you began talking, grounding yourself on the floor. "You'd walk away."

No vocal answer was heard from Mike except a small grin, slowly spreading on his lips. "You're a strong woman. And I respect you. I just know what's best for girls like you," he muttered, his eyes sliding down your face. "You don't fucking know the last thing about me," you spat, forcing his uncomfortable gaze to shoot back to your narrowed eyes. You saw him furrow his eyebrows.

"Let me go, or I swear to God, I'll fucking murder you," you mumbled in a rough, barely audible tone, keeping your eyes trained on the man in front of you. At the exact same moment, the bathroom door opened, and you used your opportunity to hit Mike in the chest with your elbow, pushing him away. Anger was boiling up your insides and you felt your hands ball into fists. A few words more and you'd turn into red, steaming and gurgling mush.

Spencer walked out with a straight and unreadable face, which seconds later transformed into confusion and even later, anger. "What are you doing?" he quickly asked, power-walking towards both of you. Mike chuckled and raised his hands, taking slow steps backwards. "Woah. Okay. Calm down, Spence. We were just talking." "First of all, don't call me that, and second of all, get the fuck out of here," Spencer replied, stealing a quick look at your distraught face.

You, however, hadn't moved, still staring at Mike's confident grin. God, what would you do? If you had a knife? Slice him up? Or his throat? What about a gun? Or, best of all, baseball bat?

"Let's go, Y/N," you felt a gentle tug on your shoulder. Looking up you made eye contact with Spencer. You nodded, but still went back to gazing at Mike. He was still chuckling. Spencer must've noticed your expression, because in your peripheral vision you saw him softly shake his head. "Y/N," he mumbled, his hand sliding down your forearm. "Please. It's not worth it." That's what it took for you to nod again and this time, turn around to face the exit. Both you and Spencer began walking towards the door. This was so unnecessarily long.

"No, no. I deserve to get to talk to you, Y/N. Come back."

You ignored Mike's remarks, instead continuing to make your way towards the exit door. But, as Spencer reached out for the door handle, extending his hand to grab it, you heard Mike scoff behind you. "Fine. Don't talk to me. I guess you already have your nerd boyfriend, huh?" He just didn't stop talking. "Well, if you ever want a real man, call me, Y/N," Mike yelled and began slowly reciting his phone number. Your lips twisted into a grin and you let out a chuckle of complete apathy. "Get lost, Mikey," you answered, feeling yourself steadily regaining your sarcastic and confident self.

"Okay, fuck you guys. You're no fun. Know what, man, I hope your whore of a little girlfriend gets fucking murdered!" he spat; voice full of venom.

And that's when it all hit. To both of you. He stopped, too, training his brown eyes on the floor. You heard his breathing stop for a while – quiet down. You wondered what you would find in his mind if you could read it. If you could read it like an open book. Lifelong worry? Helplessness? Pain? All of them, at once, hitting you like a train on rusty railroad, not looking back nor looking to find and soothe the despair it made you feel?

And, no explanation or care whether it was coincidence or a lucky guess, lucky thrown out word formed purposely to hit, kill, devastate every bit of one's being. No matter if he had thought out and carefully constructed his hit, his arrow, his bullet or just reached the farthest pain-filled corner of his empty skull for wicked ideas, he did hit.

He did hit. He killed. Devastated. Conquered Spencer's mind.

Spencer settled on his own only thought. It was a lucky guess.

He couldn't let himself walk away or forget this. He could not forget this. Ignoring his advice given mere moments before, Spencer turned back around to face his hurt. To make amends with it.

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #smut #fluff #criminal minds #derek morgan #david rossi #jennifer jareau #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner #penelope garcia #love story #bau team #fanfiction #professor #angst

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cheolliewrites · 3 years

Text

Waiting for Midnight - 11

idol Hoshi x Guardian Angel reader social media au series

With the Cows | 12:40 PM

“I really think we should try to remake the pizza that you and Hoshi made for us the other week,” DK tries to pursuade y/n and Hoshi, “I mean the pizza was good... but I think wanna try it with ingredients that aren’t burnt?”

Wonwoo snorts at DK’s comment, eventually looking away from the three in embarrassment. “Go ahead,” He still tries to suppress his laughter, “Do whatever.”

“No, let him do it,” Jeonghan furrows his brow at Woozi as he notices Hoshi’s excitement dying down second by second. He pats Hoshi’s shoulder repeatedly, “We can make some cheese together.”

Wonwoo comes up behind Woozi’s back and places both hands on his shoulders, squeezing them as if he was assuring Woozi. “When else are we going to get the chance to make our own cheese?” He convinces Woozi, eventually earning a nod from him.

“Okay,” Anne claps her hands, “We can have some boys pick out some organic produce for the drinks and pizza ingredients while the others will be in charge of the cheese.”

Still With the Cows | 1:30 PM

“Hey, where did Wonwoo go?” The8 wonders, making everyone look around.

“Maybe he went to help the organic team, I heard that they needed some strength there.” Jeonghan says while he squats and milks the cow. He scrunches his nose and wipes the sweat on his forehead with his sleeve, “Oh look, y/n’s dad is coming.”

Dad. That’s so weird.

“What are you guys doing?” Michael greets everyone with a smile, obviously trying to be less intimidating than he seems. “What are you milking the cow for?”

“Cheese!” Hoshi cheers, showing Michael the bucket of milk that they got from the cow. Michael chuckles lightly and steps back, “I see that. Y/n, dear, why don’t you come down to the greenhouse with me?”

“Why?” The tone of y/n’s voice clearly shows her disinterest in working with plants.

Michael’s smile disappeared. He clearly does not have enough patience for questions and acting, “You’re allergic to dairy,”

Right before y/n could utter something dumb that would earn her questioning looks, the rest of the boys start to panic. “You can join the organic team, we’ll be fine here!” Hoshi insists, holding y/n’s hand and forcing her to stand up.

“Oh wow,” He takes his hand back, “Why are you so cold?” He rubs his hand against his wooled apron.

Michael quickly holds y/n’s shoulders and takes her away from their attention, “Those are her allergies,” He says, quickly bidding them goodbye.

Michael and y/n walks side by side, an arm uncomfortably rested on her shoulders, “What was that about?” Y/n crosses her arms.

“Celestials don’t consume anything from creatures that produces life because we protect life,”

“What?”

Michael stops walking, clearly annoyed. “We’re vegans! Vegetarians! Non meat or dairy eaters, whatever humans call it.” He throws his hands in the air, proceeding to walk towards the greenhouse.

At the Greenhouse | 2:00 PM

The members at the greenhouse were too busy and exhausted to even notice Y/n and Michael standing at the entrance. Anne was in the middle of the place watching the boys come and go with tree pots in their hands.

“Hey, Micha—“

“Dad.” He says sternly, “It’s dad around these boys.”

Y/n looks at him weirdly, and Michael had the same face of disgust. “Okay, dad,” y/n sighs, “Remember when I told you about a guy who had a similar mark as mine but his was black?”

“That again?” Michael groans, “I told you it’s a tatt—“

“Excuse me,” Someone says from behind. Both y/n and Michael steps aside to give way to another member who was carrying a large pot. “Thanks,” he mutters.

“Ow!” Michael hissed quietly, holding his wrist.

“What happened?” Y/n was surprised, coming to Michael to get a look at his wrist, “Did he hit you?”

“No,” Michael grunts and shakes his hand. He looks up and continues to stare at the back of the member who passed by, “Who is he?”

Y/n looks at the member who disappeared into another room. She bites his lip and holds onto Michael’s arm, looking at where the member disappeared as if she was frightened, “He’s the guy with the black mark.”

“Who?”

“Wonwoo,” She looks up at Michael. She couldn’t understand his expression, but all she knew was that she, yet again, was in deep trouble.

Waiting for Midnight - 11

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contains: 💬🤍🌪☁️💿🪐 pairing: idol!Hoshi x Guardian Angel reader spotify playlist: Waiting for Midnight

Plot:

At risk of losing your guardianship, you are forced to take form of a baker who works across Pledis Entertainment to find your new human, Kwon Hoshi, a bubbly idol who often visits at midnight with heavy thoughts clouding his mind.

A/N:

Hellooooo I hope y’all don’t mind long updates from now on :3

Taglist:

@juju-cheolliewrites @simplewonderland @lightsaber1397 @samemagicpoint @noniesgirl @dy-mglzz @allthtyazz @minghaoist @minghaofilm @nicoletacos09 @swimmingismywholelife @skylions-den @beomiebear5 @monstathedisco @worshiphoseok @mingyuahjumma @unmanageable-day @seungsanhun @baby-sungshine @haikyuu-carat @soonwoolover @wispcoup @cnvs-defs @kwonscafe @anjcia @multistanfics @rosiexq @fluffyhyeju @fluffysoonyoungs @ryuyalana @leechanbestboy @peekabooseoksoon @minkwans @un2-verse @minluvly @multinines--xx @sea-gyu @thanky0uverykamsa

#seventeen #svt #seventeen social media au #svt sm au #seventeen au series #kpop fantasy au #kpop fanfic #guardian angel kpop au #kwon soonyoung #kwon hoshi #hoshi x reader #hoshi x yn #hoshi x you #jeon wonwoo #kpop #kpop fic

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hawkland · 3 years

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Destiel fic recs/what I’ve been reading (round #2)

I promised (eventually!) more fic recs and I figured I’d better do it soon before my list to talk about got TOO long. Also I’m just bubbling to praise up an amazing fic I read last night that literally has given me a fanfic hangover this morning and I need you all to suffer with me.

Starting with that fic in question:

Aria for an Angel (84k) by anyrei, mugglerock. I hurt all over from this one and I command you to do the same.

That said, DO NOT READ if you can’t stand the idea of Cas finding love/happiness with someone else (even if the fic is endgame Destiel). Also don’t read if you can’t stand your heart being shattered by pain before being carefully put back together again. Those warnings aside, this is one of the most stunning fics I’ve read yet in SPN fandom and I’m going to rec it at you no matter what. I’ve been feeling very pissy at Dean lately, as I’m on season 12 in my complete watch-thru, and with how much Cas has been suffering and getting beaten down for, like, SEASONS now. And it got me looking for fics where Cas gets some of the TLC/love/care that he needs from someone else, at least until Dean can get his shit together. Enter Mick Davies. Mick comes to Cas for help with a case that ends up involving a Grigori, and the two grow closer as Cas enjoys spending time with someone who genuinely expresses care and concern for him...but when Dean finds out will he have to choose between the Winchesters, his found family on Earth, and his new boyfriend? And when tragedy strikes, is it too late for a second chance at his first love again?

This story is funny, hot, heartbreakingly sad and just completely wrung me out emotionally. The characterizations totally worked for me, the growth they all went through was the kind of stuff I only wish the writers of the show could pull off. There’s just...there’s so much pain and love and some good stuff with poor Sam and Mary caught in the middle of this shitstorm and I wasn’t sure I could be brought back around to wanting Cas and Dean together in the end, but the authors pulled it off and everything about this story hurts, and heals, in the best possible way.

The rest of my recs in this round-up beneath the cut.

Seek to Know You Better (32k) by ahurston. Season 15 canon-divergence—so no Empty, no rusty nail, but things are relatively calm and settled in the hunter/Winchester world. As such Dean and Cas go on a road-trip together, investigate some minor cases, and gradually open up and really TALK via a “36 Questions That Lead to Love” article Cas finds on-line. One of those fics that just gives you a happy glow inside to read; it feels very believable and the characters have a maturity and adultness to them that just feels right. The little details of all the places they stop for food while talking are a delight, and it’s just the right amount of pining (for me) before they finally get things together.

Purgatory, director's cut (27k) by runsinthefamily. THIS IS THE ULTIMATE PURGATORY FIC (well, in my reading adventures so far.) Written (apparently?) before season 8 actually aired, it takes a very different - and weirdly creative and bizarre - look at what purgatory would be like. And if Cas stuck with Dean through it all. It also posits that as a human Dean would be “allergic” to purgatory and need Cas’s grace to hold himself together...but the deeper they travel, trying to get out, the more precarious Cas’s hold on his vessel becomes. I love everything about this fic, the weird imagery, the way Dean just...rolls with everything happening to Cas and still loving him because it’s Cas, not his vessel, that’s important.

Grooming Instincts (26k) by jemariel. More wing!kink which...yeah. Gimme all the wing grooming/back massages and weird angel anatomy, please. Cas is grumpy while going through what he describes as “molting” only...it’s a bit more complicated than that. And Dean has no idea what he’s gotten himself into until Cas starts grooming him...and Kevin is able to translate/figure out what’s happened. Funny and hot and just...a yummy happy read with great bits from Sam, Kevin and Charlie for good measure.

Things that Leave Marks (23k) by thestoryinsideme. Canon-divergent from Season 9. Wherein it takes Dean three years to find Cas after getting kicked out of the bunker. And when he does, it’s apparent he’s been through a lot, and he’s not exactly ready to or certain about going back to life with the Winchesters. This was sad and sweet and fluffy and angsty in all the right ways for a comfort fic read. (Also features Cas the budding artist! I love that idea!)

Wavelength-gasm (11k) by Mumble-Bee. The fuck or die trope gets a very fun twist when it involves needing to fuck an angel in his true form. Dean certainly learns this the hard way! This rec is for all the trueform!Cas-loving freaks like me out there...I’ve certainly never seen a smut fic embrace the weirdness of it all like this one.

Drive Faster Sammy (7k) by almaasi. Speaking of fuck-or-die fics, pray for Sam in this one. He has to listen to Dean helping when Cas gets struck by one (again) and they don’t have time to make it back to the bunker—so things get kind of graphic in the backseat of the Impala.

Love Burns Its Casualties (5k) by anactoria. Beautiful and bittersweet fic set during “The End”. Present-day Dean can’t sleep, and ends up invited by future!Cas to spend what he knows is likely his last night alive with him. Features casual weed use (if that bothers you), some very hot shotgunning (if it doesn’t), and is just...a wonderfully written atmospheric story that I’ve already re-read several times. (It’s especially a good read when slightly stoned yourself. Um. Not that I’m necessarily advocating for that sort of thing, unless it’s legal in your neck of the woods. Um. Anyway...)

something quiet and minor and peaceful and slow (3.7k) by celeste9. Heaven fic, so don’t read if that’s not your thing. Also don’t read if you’re completely convinced John Winchester is an unredeemable homophobe and terrible parent all around. I, personally, liked this take a lot more as it shows a struggling but not horrible John confused about why this angel keeps popping over, asking Mary questions about what Dean will want in his little slice of Heaven. The title really describes the lovely mood of this little fic and I liked it a lot.

heaven, reconstructed (9k) by vaudelin. Another Heaven fic, more focused on Cas than Destiel (but that is endgame). Goes into what exactly Cas was doing, working with Jack to try to build a better Heaven while awaiting Dean’s eventual arrival. It’s a great fic for world-building (in more ways than one!) in the SPN universe and I like a story that explores Cas’s relationships with others beyond Dean and Sam. I’d add too that as a fan of The Good Place, I just in general enjoy stories that look at the complexity of what actually would constitute a “perfect” afterlife. So imagine Castiel as a TGP architect here if you will (I certainly did!)

The Passion of the Christ (and his angelic ex-boyfriend) (4.9k) by Bzzee. Another heaven!fic, but pure delightful crack. What happens when Dean and Cas run into one of Cas’s ex-boyfriends in Heaven’s roadhouse...who just happens to be Jesus Christ. Dean isn’t too happy with that knowledge (and neither is Judas). Just read it—heresy and all. For a crack fic it’s actually wonderfully smart and wicked.

Can't You Hear It Calling (4.7k) by imogenbynight. A “missing scene” from s8e32 (Sacrifice). Cas expects to never see Dean again once he (expects to, at least) close the gates of Heaven. As a parting gift, he takes Dean back in time to a Led Zeppelin concert...and then a motel room to spend a final night together. As a music lover, the description of the excitement of the concert (and the happy/sadness when the show is almost over) totally hit me in the feels...and it’s such angsty/beautiful smut when they get together.

You're Gonna Live Tomorrow (3k) by MajorEnglishEsquire, microcomets, orange_crushed. Cas doesn’t know a lot about being human (yet), but he does know one thing - he wants to marry Dean. Sweet, sweet happy fluff, just enjoy.

Who's Counting? (1.7k) by Annie D (scaramouche). Just some pure angel-powered delicious smut. Dean learns the hard way, over and over again, that angels have basically no refractory period.

#destiel recs #my fic recs #deancas recs #hawkland reads spn fic #destiel #my destiel recs

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btswishes · 3 years

Text

Love me for who I am now

Bucky x Reader ( Chapter 6)

Previous / Next (7)

Summary: You apply for the Stark internship and end up getting it, so now you have 5 months to make a good impression to continue working with the Avengers.

A/N: Is it juicy yet?👀 I have added a song to listen to at a particular part - gives the story a better feeling. Sorry for any mistakes made, hope you enjoy it even a tiny bit.

Tag list: @vicmc624 @yasminwashere

Word count: 3,719

Warmings: fights, harsh language, not part of the original MCU

Y/N- Your name

Y/L/N- Your Last Name

Vocabulary 40s:

cookie - a girl who is cute

decked out - dressed up in an attractive way

eager beaver - an enthusiastic helper; a person who is excited about something

dame - a woman

doll dizzy - a boy who is crazy about girls

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

The drive to your destination was filled with fear, worry - the very anxiety seeping through your skin into your muscles, blood leading it to each apex of your body, feeding your mind numerous endings. You were no Dr. Strange, but at this very moment the only sensation was the contrast of burning unavoidable expectation and cool alluring cold coming from Bucky’s vibranium arm.

Pulled abruptly out of yourself, Steve stepped on the breaks and pushed the car door open. Your head flung to him pulling the bags out of the backseat and unzipping them. Bucky followed his old friend, letting your figure finally stand on its own, free of the safety of his embrace. Taking a couple of breaths in, you felt your chest expand and collapse again under the atmospheric pressure.

“ Y/N.”Steve called out to you, waving his hand to pull your attention towards himself. Autopilot moved you around the metal of the vehicle right next to both men. Bucky was tightening his holsters to make sure it was all snug and tight, biting into his chest muscles. Steve leaned his shield against the car, throwing you a bag. The suit inside caught your eye, bottles of vibranium dust resting atop. With trembling fingers, you pulled he material out letting the soft yet sturdy sensation run up your nerves.

A metal clank contracted your neck muscles – Bucky’s hand flung the trunk door open.

“You can get dressed here.” His big figure turned around, casting a shade over you “I won’t look, promise.” In a weird way, his first reaction was to cover you as much as possible, doing a mind check over his arsenal.

“Are you going to be the wall this time?” as clouded with fear as you were, a small tease escaped your dressing figure – fabric sliding over your thighs and up your chest. Bucky threw his head forward coaxed by a laugh.

“Sure, you can say so. Since the last one couldn’t hide that cute mole you have right on your side.”

“YOU DID PEEP!”Your throat let out a screech resembling that of a bird of prey, caused by the realization. His body swiftly rotated towards you, flesh hand cupping your mouth shut.

“Shhh. We don’t want to get caught doll.” Bucky’s gaze checked the perimeter before sliding towards you and down to your chest, where the metal zipper laid comfortably between your breasts.

“Maybe don’t boil the water if you don’t want the kettle to whistle.” Steve tapped his shield, sending his friend a stern look. He knew exactly what was happening and tried to make it easy on your poor maiden soul as much as he could.

“You telling me ya wouldn’t tease this cookie?” James threw the words with a whip of his head over to Steve’s back. “I gotta thank Stark for decking her out like this.”

“Calm down eager beaver.” Bucky smirked at Steve’s words, as his ocean eyes pulled you in to his magical land, losing connection with the world around just to sink deeper “You were always popular with the dames Buck, never thought I would see the day when you would become doll dizzy.”

“Only for this one.” His fingers crawled up your front alluringly, taking his time remembering each curve and dip he could find, before squeezing the zipper and covering your exposed skin from the world and unwanted eyes.

“Hey!” finally being able to escape his lulling gaze, you slapped his hand away, throwing the bag in the trunk and aggressively closing it shut, shaking the car up in the action.

“Feisty lil’ one.”

“Oh shut up.”

The conversation came like thunder on a sunny day, but you couldn’t deny it sucked out some of your stress right out of the skin on skin contact with the tank of a man, now walking behind you. Movie worthy, that was the new feeling bubbling in your guts as you walked tall next to Cap with his gear. The iced dust under your shoes crackled marking each step away from the getaway car. The glass bottles dangling around your waist acted like a safe space for you, knowing that you weren’t empty handed.

“Will someone brief me a bit?” the corner of your eye caught Steve smile at your question, his chest swelling up with a bit of fatherly pride

“Already sounding like an Avenger aren’t we Miss Y/N” pulling out the intercoms they bounced off his meaty palm into your hands and between Bucky’s fingers. You fumbled with it for a moment before finding a comfortable seat for them in your left ear.

“Test test?” Steve’s finger pressed on the blue plastic, hitting you with his voice almost directly in your brain “HYDRA became very active the past few weeks. They have been snooping into old human experiments from the 40s.”

“The 40s?” you had to fight your rush of shock from directing it to the sole survivor of that plan walking behind you, casting a protective shadow over your path

“Weird, we know. Our job is to get info, bust down anything that seems dangerous and leave with as little causalities as possible.”

“To us. You can fuck up anyone else in there.” Bucky added combative energy faintly tracked in his notes

“What is my job?”

“The three of us have to get to the center of that building.” The shield rose in the direction of an old almost abandoned for millennia looking construction. Snow piled on top almost camouflaging it from the rest of the universe. The back door had no one guarding it making the eerie feeling sprout roots inside your heart. Steve placed his ear on the door, letting his super soldier hearing take in as many sounds as possible, letting him deduce that the coast was clear for now. Upon pushing the handle down the men realized that the material was almost impenetrable – not even Bucky could take it down.

“What now? We can’t waltz in from the front like ‘hi we are the avengers’.” He mocked the whole plan, throwing his arms in the air, letting them fall back down with the same energy “ We were lucky enough this side didn’t have anyone guarding it. I don’t think we will have a second go at this with the same success.” he seemed weirdly on edge for a professional with years of experience

“May I?” head ducked down, your eyes moved from one super soldier to the other. They made way, anything would be better than actually going in from another place. Elbows bend back, the nails on your thumbs swiftly unplugged the bottles dangling at your sides. The gentle movements mirroring a ballerina pulled the dust out, mobilizing the small particles for action. They easily penetrated the hinges before busting them open with the spread of your fingers. The light thud the door let out falling onto Steve’s chest with a slight bounce ,signaled the granted entrance.

“Gentlemen first.” A mischievous smile tugged onto your skin, waving your hand for them to walk past you. Pride swirled around, having done something helpful to the mission before it even started - technically.

Turning to the side the men stepped inside the dimly lit corridor. Flickering lights would reflect over Cap’s shield and Bucky’s arm, both of them ready for a fight at each corner they turned. Being in front of you like a barricade against danger, you decided for now to call back the vibranium forming the good old gauntlets – formidable punch, guaranteed to make anyone’s dentist’s pockets happy. The forked path froze Steve, now having him think of any good decisions for a continuation.

“ I go left you take Y/N and go right.” Steve sighed out, tense and wary of each quiet moment passed

“You sure about this?” Bucky unsheathed a knife and swung it over at his friend, making his eyes lay on the shiny sharp edge

“Keep it pal.” One big hand pushed away another “I got my trusty partner over here.” palm tapping the curve of the shield

“Um guys, how about we all go left?”

“Nah doll, let’s go with Stevie’s plan.”

“I don’t mean to be rude, but I think that the path with shiny blue light and talking men sounds like our destination. 3 against all of them is better than 1 man and his circular sonoluminescent slab of metal.”

“My what?” Steve’s lids squinted, the gears in his head turning slowly to understand your science language.

“Ummm~...Thor hit, shield vibrate and make lighttt~?” the awkward smile plastered all over your face was more than enough to discourage the man from any further education in this era

“Wait wait.” Bucky shook his arm in front of you two, cutting his best friend some slack “How did you hear them? This- this isn’t a frequency you should even be able to catch.”

“But…it is pretty loud and clear. They are even talking about some portal.”

“ Y/N this isn’t something you just hear, come to think of it you excel in your traini-“

“Buck drop it. We can talk when we are back in car, what matters is that we are onto something here and I don’t like how it is looking.”

“I mean I don’t know if this will help ,but I hear 5 more people coming our way from the other direction.” there was no need to point it out seeing as how your team mates were already standing in their signature fight poses. Bucky’s left hand grabbed at you, fingers pushing deep enough to bruise, as he anchored you behind his large frame.

“HEY!” approaching enemies located you pretty easy. All of them armed to the teeth with too many heavy weaponry for some odd reason. Steve covered you two from the first gun shots letting the bullets flatten into caps against his shield. The whole situation caught you off guard almost forgetting all the battle training with Natasha. Who were you kidding, she would go easy on you, these men were out to kill and you were a pretty good target for them.

It was an art form, the way these heavy men were moving between bodies and taking them down like flies. Mistake number 2 - you were too focused on them.

“Y/N!” Bucky’s hair slapped his opposite cheek as his eyes widened filling with fear enough to pollute that deep blue. His knife flew inches from your skin taking with it some of your hair clean off. A yelp left your throat the moment the sharp edge dug into the lung of a random unfortunate guy trying his luck with you. Steve quickly counted the bodies noticing one empty blood patch on the floor. Bucky indulged into relief seconds too soon, letting your safe and healthy figure reflect onto his cornea.

“Bucky!” oh how ironic it was, yelling each other’s names. Danger loved to watch people dance but in a pair. Your fingers reached out to him even though you knew how far you were from him, the man dashing with anger and a last dying wish to take one of you with him down to hell. The corridor began almost elongating in front of you playing a sadistic illusion. Shouting out ‘James’ was the drop needed to overflow your unconscious lake, hands engulfing the atmosphere in an unknown move before making contact with him. Your arms pulled him in like a protective mother as the warmth of a liquid spilled all over your face.

“Y/N, Buck!” Steve dashed over, making sure the last of the scumbags was actually on his way to be judged upon hell’s gates. The vibranium formed into the elegant shape of a knife dripped with the piping life you just took.

“Y/N!” Bucky shook you a couple of times. He scanned your face, palms wiping away as much of the blood as he could, making sure to keep it away from your mind.

“I-....I just killed someone.” the muddy blob of blood and vibranium in your hand, glistening no more - sinfully tainted.

“It’s ok, it’s ok.” Bucky kept brushing your hair back, casting a breathy spell of words “It’s not your fault. It’s mine.” color leaving your cheeks, mind flooded with thoughts. Your whole body worked in a minimal rhythm as if it was denying it. “Doll...doll?” scared, he was scared of the lack of speech

“No, no.” shacking out of his grip, Steve had to push his hand at your lower back, stopping you from rolling onto the floor and into more now cold and drying blood. They both sat, watching you losing your innocents. It was something disgusting, torturous to anyone, still even to them years later. “You don’t get it.” your calm heart beat filled their ears “I don’t feel...anything.” trying to find hope in their faces led you only to more tangled webs of confusion “I just sliced a man’s head clean off his body. At- at first was...- I thought I was just in shock, but now...nothing. No fear, no regret, no panic is coming to me.” silence oh you beautiful song, come and cover these children and hide away their misery from one another. Stay with them until their distress subsides, until they remember who they are. And so she did, letting only the air escaping between your head and Bucky’s chest make itself known.

Minute after minute yet you didn’t feel any different. Tapping the man’s bicep he released you, letting you take a breath in that wasn’t soaked with his intoxicating scent.

“Sorry. ”he muffled out his voice

“Let’s talk this out later.” another to the list of issues “Let’s wrap this up, I don’t think my 106 year old self can take any more surprises.”

Giving each other a quick nod, both Bucky and Steve were back in stealth positions almost floating over the dirty and crumbly ground. No sound not even a vibration from the air in front of their nostrils. With a quick look at them you adapted fast becoming part of the shadows dancing under the broken lights. The corridor began shrinking, leading you to a hall divided only by 2 doors. Old, chewed up wood being your only blanket away from the eyes of potential predators.

“This better work!” a deep male tone huffed out from the side, mobilizing you 100% back to reality and the mission at hand.

“It has to work!” a second man joined in, his voice filled with determination “We lost the soldiers because of shitty planning.” Bucky’s skin crawled, his nerves sending impulses from deep in his memory.

“Calm down, if my calculations are correct we can get them back fresh from the factory.” The laugh was laced with potent evil, as they spoke of human beings as frozen meat from a butcher shop

“Shut up and turn it on!” an almost painfully familiar echo interjected the conversation “ Find the exact moment and grab them.”

Keycap tapping and machine sounds began spreading around the hall, seeping through the cracks in the door where you 3 were positioned. Steve threw a look at Bucky and you, almost asking how many people you thought were in there. The nail on your middle left finger rose up and made 3 long followed by two short taps atop the hard surface – Morse code for 8. The contorting looks they threw made you point at the small crack next to you. The vibranium dust formed a flat reflective surface letting you spy inside, without having to expose any of your body parts.

“Oh God, it’s working!” the strong flash bounced off the mirror scorching your pupils almost right off. Bucky winced followed by a hiss from you.

“How far are we back?”

“I don’t know, I can’t configurator this yet. Wait.”

“What? What?”

“Someone is coming! I can’t shut this off!”

“Don’t! Kill whoever it is! We need to succeed this or our heads will be rolling!” the man yelled out, from the condition of his voice you could tell he was flaring his arms from side to side.

“Who are you!” the clicking of a gun paired with a sweet female voice took over the room, sending Steve a signal to jump in. Everything was going downhill for the HYDRA agents, it was now or never. With the number 8 in mind Bucky bend his leg into his knee, exerting sheer inhuman strength, sending the two doors flying inside announcing the arrival of the Avengers. Your fingers weaved the dust off your soft skin and into 10 sharp spears above your head, gently forming a halo behind your back.

“Fuck!” the men cussed out trying to stay away from the door, enjoying its first flight after years of pension “Great, Captain America !” dressed like a scientist, the man closed his laptop, putting it away safely under his armpit. The light coming from the wall began to vanish slowly but surely

“YOU IDIOT!” yelled out his partner

Out of pure muscle memory you tried to pull the tech out of the sloppy grasp of the enemy, but he saw the cloud coming.

“Fuck this shit!” the unsheathing of a firearm pulled your gaze at the man pointing right at Bucky. His finger slowly pulled back the trigger, spewing out the metal bullet spiraling in the air with speed above that of a human. Bucky’s super soldier abilities pulled his metal arm up, but no clank of materials echoed, the burning capsule sizzling, nestled inside of your grasped fist hovering in front of your partner’s head.

“Go go!” Steve tried to stop them, but the shield got repelled by some type of force field. Bucky was in shock, the warm blood rolling off your skin onto the frozen floor, steam waves leaving as it cooled off.

“They got away!” Steve pushed his finger gently over the intercom sending a message to the rest at the compound “We failed.” His fist hit the wall standing unfortunate next to his strong figure

“Not- “ you hissed, releasing the bullet letting it chime upon contact with the ground “-not necessarily.” Between the metaphorical fingers of the dust cloud you held the very USB that was previously inside the laptop dangling without protection “I think they should be smarter next time, with data I mean.” Your body straightened, Bucky hovering next to you, hands not that far from you just in case. Cap sighed out, his consciousness feeling less aggravated by the failed mission upon you all.

“Not bad for a fist time kid.” He rubbed the top of your head, tugging on a growl from Bucky, low but noticeable upon your contact with his friend.

Song to listen to from here down.

“Steve?” it was the female. Her presence forgotten in the hall, as you 3 relished in the small win. Her heels echoed in rhythm with the Captain’s slowly moving figure. It looked like slow motion as the woman came closer. Her elegant fingers folding the metal of the historical looking gun. Your hands pulled the vibranium in defense, till Bucky’s arm stopped you, his eyes not peeling off of the woman with each of her steps. Her chocolate curls bounced off her shoulders, some draping gently over the collar of the olive colored uniform. Her knees tugged onto the skirt making bigger and much more confidant strides towards the blond man. It felt like a century of them adjusting to each other’s eyelevel.

“Steve…”her voice trembled as her eyes took in the man standing in front of her. His self reflecting into her eyes, soaking deep past them. Half way up his body, Steve grasped her gently with a need. The woman’s hand dropped the gun to the ground thankfully without a shot as her other one slid up his right cheek. Steve’s fingers still holding onto her, intertwined into her grasp, letting his head lean into her gentle touch. His lip quivered slightly. America’s hero, the strong super soldier that gave his life for his country without a second thought, now coming undone in this woman’s presence.

“ Steve…” her voice dripped with a breathy chuckle without a smile. You didn’t need to know them to feel the need and longing spilling out of them. It was just a split second before he let go and warped his arms around her waist pulling her off the ground and flush against his chest, wishing to be as close as possible to her.

“Peggy.” Steve breath out, swallowing in the tears beginning to glaze his eyes, soothing the burning around his nose.

“Peggy?” stagnant notes pushed out from your throat, gaze thrown over Bucky as he nodded back at you. They stayed in each other’s embrace for a few minutes feeling like years to them. You could tell Steve didn’t want to let her down. But past the feelings that bubbled out from the past, he found confusion.

“Peggy why are you here? How are you here?” his hands kept placing strands of hair behind her ear, eyes roaming over her face making sure she was real time and time again.

“I-I don’t know. “ her head looked in the direction of the previously existing light “ I was on a mission when I saw a weird light and voices. I followed and now I am here…with you.” One thing was for sure, she couldn’t go back anymore.

“I am sorry to cut this short, but we have to leave now.” You swung your arm, pulling everyone’s attention your way “We don’t know how many HYDRA agents are here and I don’t plan to take my chances with them on my first mission.”

“You, what are you doing here?” Peggy had a gentle smile, letting the red lipstick expose her teeth

“Long story Peggy, Bucky went through some stuff but he is with us now an-“

“Y/N.” Agent Carter let your name roll off her lips with such familiarity it almost got you believing into something as old as time.

“What?” Bucky observed the situation feeling like Alice in Wonderland

“I haven’t seen you for a few years now.” She continued

“You-you know me?” the words stuttered on their way out

“Of course. Y/N Y/L/N.”

Let’s say that Cap’s 106 year old self survived another unexpected surprise.

24 notes · View notes

kosmosguk · 4 years

Text

upcoming works | sneak peeks

to make up for the lack of posting for the past 2 weeks, here are snippets (in no particular order) of the beginnings of the ROUGH and very UNEDITED/incomplete drafts of upcoming fics that I’ve been working on while I’ve been gone to get you guys excited for the future schedule <3 ty for nearly 1.9k followers. All works, unless specified, are MATURE.

if you guys are interested in a particular work, tell me about it and the ones that are more popular--as I will have more motivation to write them--will get finished faster!

a millennium of red strings | fox demon jungkook x reader

Summary: a thousand years ago, jungkook and you were lovers in a world nearly destroyed by national strife. a millennium ago, jungkook held your dead body in his arms, powerless and unable to stop you from taking your last breath, and a millennium ago, jungkook sacrificed one of his tails for another chance for your reincarnation. A thousand years later, jungkook’s wish for your life is finally fulfilled by the god of destiny, but this time, jungkook, with hands stained by human hearts and a hunger for power, is no longer the wide-eyed adolescent boy with too many hopes to be fulfilled and too many weaknesses that you fell in love with. And this time, a millennium and a thousand human hearts later, he’ll go to drastic lengths to ensure that harm will never come your way.

You reached out a finger outside of your window to stroke the petals of the peonies your brother had planted you before he had left for war. He said that when he came back, he would buy you new clothes embroidered with blooming red peonies. Your fingers touched wet coarse fabric instead of the delicate soft petals you were expecting. Your mouth opened in a scream as you launched your body back in alarm, but a cold hand firmly clamped itself over your mouth as the figure in front of your window launched into your room and pushed you to the ground. The window shut behind the figure with a firm clack.

“Don’t say anything. If you do, I’ll claw your heart out and eat it, human.’’

The voice that spoke was the voice of a young man. You tried to push him off of you when your hands brushed against something soft and furry—was it an animal’s ears? You swallowed the gasp that threatened to bubble up in your throat and paused in your struggling when you heard sounds coming from outside.

You heard footsteps slap against the mud outside of your room, and you clamped your eyes shut. Something in your gut told you that whoever was outside would do much more damage to you than the demon currently in your room.

Several minutes after the sound of footsteps stopped, the demon pushed you away. You frantically got up to your feet, trying to remember your mother’s words when it came to demons. They were scared of light; you had to get to your candle. You grabbed onto it, splashing hot wax onto your hands in your hurry, to brandish at the strange fox demon.

Your mouth fell open at the sight. The gumiho was…beautiful? In the faint light of the candle, you could clearly see his features, especially since his hood had fallen off in the middle of your earlier struggle. He had wide doe-eyes, like an innocent animal, and pretty features that were on the brink of developing into a surely extremely handsome face. His figure was lanky from what you could see of him underneath the thick red cloak he was wearing. He reminded you of the men depicted in ink paintings of mythology where demons would come down and take the form of beautiful human beings to suck the energy from humans and eat their flesh.

You realized he was looking at you weirdly, and your cheeks burned as you realized that you had called him beautiful out loud without thinking.

“You’re not…scary?’’ the fox demon in front of you spoke.

You pointed at yourself.

“Aren’t you a gumiho?’’ you knew you were speaking crudely, but he was trespassing into your room. “What do you mean I’m scary? If anything, I should be the one terrified of you! I’m the human here!’’

The gumiho blinked his pretty eyes at you in surprise, his mouth opening to say something before you interrupted him, speaking rapidly in hopes that he wouldn’t find his next meal in you.

“I saved you by letting you into my room, so you can’t kill me, gumiho! Killing your savior would be a crime punishable by heaven. I don’t taste good anyways, I bet; I probably taste like mud and bitter herbs, so don’t even think about it!’’

The fox demon laughed, the sound clear and youthful. You were an amusing human being, weren’t you?

“I agree with you. I don’t feel like you’d make a good meal anyways. I suppose the heavens will punish me if I eat my savior, so I promise to not eat you. In exchange for saving me, I’ll give you my name. I’m Jungkook. If you have a wish, tell me it, and I’ll see if I can grant it’’

“Jungkook,’’ you beamed in relief at having your life for another night, and, without thinking clearly, you put out your hand for him to shake.

“I’ll tell you my name since you promised not to eat me. I’m (y/n). You better not forget it! I’d want you to save my brother, but you look young for a demon and not powerful, so while I’m waiting for my brother to come home, you should come visit me often.”

Jungkook raised an eyebrow, his ears flicking in confusion. Your wish…You really were an interesting human being. He almost made a fuss at you calling him not powerful; he was stronger than humans, for sure, but something kept him from saying that aloud. Some strange part of him didn’t want to scare you. He reached out anyways, clasping his hand around your softer and smaller one. Your hand was really warm; he almost didn’t want to let go. And you seemed nice, too, unlike the humans his master often told him of who were greedy and didn’t deserve the hearts they were bestowed with. Perhaps some part of him wanted to spend time with you.

He had to leave though; with a nod of goodbye and a twitch of an ear, Jungkook disappeared into the rain in which he had emerged from.

You couldn’t help but think to yourself: you really were a fool to ask a demon to come spend time with you. Why did your mouth never comply with what you really thought? You jutted out your lip in frustration, though the slight hint of joy touched your heart at the thought of company.

lineage 2 | duke yoongi x princess reader

Summary: When an engagement locks you, the 8th and forgotten princess, to the duke infamous for his cruelty, you find yourself counting the days until your inevitable death. It’s terrifying to think of your end, but when you arrive at his territory, you realize there’s a more morbid reason behind your marriage, and that the duke is much worse than the rumors have painted him out to be.

You were dreaming, at least that’s what it felt like to you. Some part of your mind knew that this was simply too vivid to be merely a dream, too real to simply be a figment of imagination spurred by an anxious mind. But you had never experienced this moment. You had no memories of this kind.

Flashes of someone’s life blinked in front of you, but the strange thing was, you were that someone. You were in their body; the skin and bones and flesh that made up them were also the same that made up you. The flashes stopped, blending colors stilling to spill a stark image onto a blank canvas as a particular memory unfolded before your eyes. You could feel the breeze of a summer’s day drift through strands of your hair, hear the soft whispering of the trees and the giggling of little fairies dancing in the wind and on your bare shoulders and arms. Their feet tapped against your skin in the giddiness of a rapid dance, the ticklish feeling causing you to let out a careless giggle as you swayed with them.

“The earth is singing. It coos and breathes and exhales its own melody,’’ the you in the dream spoke airily,’’ I can feel the song of nature in me, my child’s first breath, though that may sound quite trite to many.’’

It seemed like you were talking to yourself, or maybe even the fairies still dancing around and on you. That is, until dream you lifted your head towards another direction that you had been previously facing. The fairies all screeched before falling quiet, a silence so ominous and different compared to their previous activeness, and you could no longer feel their small feet lightly itching your skin. The air seemed to cool, the shifting from a summer’s day to a winter’s night.

“Well, I suppose you’re the only one who doesn’t find me so strange. I’m surprised you haven’t gone running from the first sight of the me behind the façade I put on before the Council. You either want what runs in my veins or…you must truly love me. Isn’t that right, Yoongi?’’

Arms wrapped around your body, and you could feel the weight of someone’s head on your shoulder. That someone pressed a soft kiss against your delicate neck before laughing hoarsely against your skin, sending shivers of pleasure down your spine. The voice was familiar. Yoongi? But why was he here? You had no control over your actions, however, trapped in the body of this someone who only giggled elatedly and maneuvered her body closer to the man.

“I can never go against you, can I? You know it’s the latter choice. My goddess…you are truly my—.”

His voice cut off, but you could feel his mouth still moving against your neck to form the last word. The dream was crumbling before you. You could feel the last sensations of the mirage you were experiencing dissipating into thin air, cracking into small bits and pieces.

As you woke up, the word he had mouthed lingered in your mind before fading like your dream had.

Obsession.

bloody artistry | celebrity taehyung x journalist reader

Summary: when the scrutiny of fame becomes too much, perfect kim taehyung finds his peace within a lavish bathroom located two blocks away from the nearest club, a corpse in the bed with him. the fans have never questioned his behavior, not when his company is much too good at cleaning up his mess to not have done it before, but when a reporter with too many questions threatens to break the peace he’s established, he finds himself in a tango with the devil that he can’t bring himself to want to break.

Your mind was in a haze, and you didn’t notice the man next to you until he was nearly pressed to your side, barely leaving a gap of space between the both of you.

You glanced at him, your tipsy mind sobering up as you realized who the man next to you was. Kim Taehyung? What the fuck was he doing here?

‘‘Another drink for a pretty lady?” Taehyung’s teeth showed as he charmingly flashed a coquettish smile at you, his already extremely handsome features increasing in beauty from the grin.

You remembered Jungkook’s words and a chill ran up your spine, causing goosebumps to rise up on your skin and freezing you to the bar table. God, were you his next victim?

You swallowed dryly, trying to calm your racing heartbeat. The reckless journalist in you wanted to take a leap of faith at the headliner just out of reach, but the rational side of you knew that that leap of faith had a much bigger chance of you ending up disappearing off for a new job opportunity overseas, as Taehyung’s company would have it. You couldn’t write a good story if you were dead, after all.

‘‘Thank you, but I can pay for my own drinks,” your lips twitched as you forced them into a convincingly gentle smile, refusing his offer softly and moving your body casually a few inches away from him,” Drinking drinks bought by strangers isn’t really my thing.”

Your smile must’ve looked less nervous than you really felt and a hell of a lot convincing because Taehyung’s stiff shoulders seemed to relax at your words.

There was a dark gleam to his eyes when he pushed his body near yours and whispered softly into your ears.

‘‘If you’re scared of strangers, why don’t we get to know each other a little bit?”

Your fake smile grew stiff on your face. You felt like you were going to hurl the convenience meal ramen you had scarfed before coming to the bar all over the bar and Taehyung’s expensive looking clothes. You could feel the sense of dread in your bones, the kind a prey animal would feel as a predator focused their sharp eyes on their weaker body.

You forced a fake laugh, trying to drive the message that you were just not interested to Taehyung. “No thanks, I have enough people I’m close to. If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ve left my friend alone for far too long on the dance floor.”

You pushed yourself off the bar table, flashing a polite smile before you headed over to the dance floor, trying to keep your pace slow and steady instead of the run you wanted to do.

Taehyung inhaled the lingering scent of your perfume, a smell that sweetly layered itself over the damp musky air of the club. His eyes, even as you tried to focus on the pounding music and forget the fear embedded deeply in your gut, never seemed to leave your form, even when you burrowed yourself deeply into the crowd away from his view.

divinity | god taehyung x demon reader

Summary: it’s a classic tale: two lovers from two different worlds united by the red string of fate only to be tragically severed by their worlds. but for taehyung, who’s lived thousands of years as the high god of beauty and the arts, a classic tale will forever remain a classic tale. well, that is until he finds one of the injured from the enemy forces in his realm, and he can’t help but desire the perfect happy ending to a classic tale with you, even if it means forcing apart the barricade of tragedy that separates you from him.

Taehyung traced the swirls of ivory and scatters of porcelain in the white marble table mindlessly, his eyes barely focused on the scenery in front of his eyes. The warmth of Heaven’s sun soaked into the soft white cloth of his tunic and into his skin, and a cool breeze ruffled his soft pale locks, sending wisps of thin strands to frame his beautiful face. The sight of him looking so ethereal would’ve inspired mortal artwork had he not been alone.

All was peaceful in his realm, with not even a servant to flit nearby the pensive god; it was much too peaceful. Peace, after centuries of war with the demon clan, was not a fortune that was often bestowed upon Taehyung. Although he was the god of beauty and art, his rank as a high god forced him to take a large role in the war. It wasn’t until today that he was given a break to go rest at his home after Jungkook, the god of war, returned back to base after winning a bloody victory against one of the demon clan’s more powerful forces.

But peace never lasted long when one was in the middle of a war, not in the mortal world and certainly not up in the heavens.

Taehyung knew something was off in his realm. He could feel it, the warning of a trespasser humming underneath his skull and throbbing in the tips of his fingers.

Was it a rouge fairy? Maybe even one of his own? Or was it an enemy?

There was no one else in his realm with him besides lower-level fairies to act as his servants, everyone else having been forced away to the king’s realm in order to give Taehyung a much-needed break from the worries and chaos of war. The servants would be unable to fight off an intruder if they were high-level enough, but Taehyung knew that the barriers he had erected around his realm when he was at the height of power would hold steadfast against most high-level demons, or any beings that had desire to harm him, or at least stave them off long enough for reinforcements to come.

Taehyung quickly pushed himself up from his seat when he heard a crackle of gravel and stone underfoot. How did the enemy manage to get past his barriers so quickly? That was impossible.

He slowly walked over, his footsteps silent against the ground, to the bush where he had heard the soft sounds of rustling come from, and the heavy odor of spilled blood invaded his sense of smell.

There was a figure on the ground, blood dripping from a torn hole in their dark attire and staining the gravel the body was limply laying on. Taehyung stood their silently, his eyes unblinking, before the figure rolled over to face him, their body sagging as they finally lifted up their head, the hood of their clothes covering their features from Taehyung’s gaze.

‘‘Help me,” they croaked out desperately.

yandere bts world | seokjin x reader

Summary: [ENTERING KIM SEOKJIN’S ROUTE: CHECK IN...TO MY HEART!] Kim Seokjin, a hotel intern with dreams of being a top-class hotelier, finds a golden opportunity to fulfill his dream when he is forced to watch over a VIP customer’s difficult child. You, now as a pastry chef for the hotel’s kitchen, showing up should’ve just boosted his journey to fulfilling his dream, but each choice you make seems to lead you further away from the dreamy perfect ending and closer to a particularly bad ending.

You could tell who it was right away. With his breathtakingly handsome features and heart-shaped lips parted slightly, Kim Seokjin lived up to the looks he frequently boasted about on the videos you spent hours watching. But he wasn’t on the other end of a screen anymore, glass and plastic against your thumb, he was here, real and in the flesh. But you could tell, with his dye-free hair and butler-like suit, that the Seokjin before you was not the Jin that you knew before the game started.

‘‘Kim Seokjin?’‘

The words came out of your mouth before you could stop them properly. You grew flustered, trying to think of an excuse that could make up explaining to the man before you exactly how you, a complete stranger, knew his name, before realizing just how still your surroundings were.

[You are about to enter Seokjin’s route for YBW. Click YES or NO before starting for confirmation. After clicking YES, there is no restarting.]

You could barely stop your hands from trembling as you reached up and pressed the sparkling YES.

The word did a little spin, twinkling in an eye-catching way before disappearing.

A set of instructions popped up.

[INSTRUCTIONS: You are now in a world where BTS is not BTS. To win hearts and boost your romance gauge for Seokjin’s GOOD ENDING, be careful about the choices you make throughout the game. Choices will pop up frequently during your interaction with Seokjin. There will be no going back once you have started playing, and once you have pressed a choice, you can not choose another. Be warned: BAD CHOICES END WITH A BAD ENDING, in which DEATH occurs. Press CONTINUE.]

You stiffened when you read the second to last line. You knew that this world wasn’t your world, and you had somehow managed to maintain a mild state of calmness, but the warning jostled your sense of fear and caused panic to rise up in your throat. You wanted it to be a lie, but when you squeezed your eyes shut and pinched yourself hard enough to leave a bruise, hoping to wake up in your bed, your hopes were dashed as you opened your eyes up to the same opaque white screen.

You suddenly didn’t want to play the game anymore.

You thought of making a run for it, but the game, as if sensing your thoughts, popped up with another screen.

[Please press CONTINUE. Failure to do so will be quitting the game, which will immediately result in the BAD ENDING.]

#yandere bts #yandere #bts x reader #bts fanfic #bts fic #yandere jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader #taehyung x reader #yandere taehyung x reader #yandere yoongi x reader #yoongi x reader #seokjin x reader #yandere seokjin x reader #bts yandere #kpop yandere #yandere au #sneak peeks #previews #fic schedule

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sanders-sides-fic · 3 years

Text

There is no nice deathworlders! (Right?) [Chapter 7]

AU-masterpost: here

Virgil wasn’t sure why, but Remus would wake up every night after that. Every time Roman slept, Remus would come out and talk away the night with… or, rather to Virgil. And it was calming, really. Having someone treat you like a person after all this time again. Just talking about random stuff, as gruesome and disturbing as some of it may be, and having a conversation.

Patton didn’t leave. Much to Roman’s dismay the sylemn didn’t want to leave his friends. Though Virgil did assume that they had noticed him reacting to them talking some time or another, as they had begun to talk a lot more quietly. But Roman still insisted on Virgil not being able to understand common, which was kind of confusing. About as confusing as Roman slowly becoming less and less aggressive towards Virgil in behavior, yet showing no signs of warming up to the human in the way he talked.

The storm didn’t stop, but it got better. Before you could barely see a foot through the pouring rain and the wind was cold and biting even inside the cover of the cave. Now you could at least see far enough not to be concerned about falling down a cliff you didn’t see. Of cause everything would still be slippery, but if you stepped outside, you didn’t need to worry about being flooded away.

So Virgil started to leave again. He didn’t search for Janus, of cause. No, that would have been suicidal in that weather. But he went outside to go and find some food. He was really worried about both Roman and Patton, and he himself started to have trouble standing up fast. Even now he was out of breath way too fast and saw black spots dancing around in his vision.

And Virgil also visited his ship. He didn’t want to do so before because whenever he went inside the ship even though he didn’t want to leave yet he… remembered things. Now was hard, too. But he didn’t have much of a choice, Roman, Remus and Patton would die of hypothermia at this rate and he needed a few other supplies and tools because of the weather right now. Fire wasn’t really a possibility with the soaking wood around here, and he refused to die of an allergic reaction to some weird berry or fruit or something. No, he’d rather use up the supplies on the ship for now and worry about reloading later. Still, he would have to skimp out on meals if he didn’t want to starve on the his way to the next market.

Where would that be? HJ-9? Or maybe better YK-21? No, there was a lot of security there. He’d had a few run-ins with them when he and Janus were together and they’d barely made it out of there in one peace working as a team. Though there was a lot of stuff he had yet to find anywhere else, he guessed he shouldn’t risk it.

With a sigh, Virgil left the shiny, black, bubble-shaped space ship again and went back into the rain. On the way back he found a few more of those blackish berries Roman seemed to like, or like enough to eat them at least. Finding the right cave was a lot harder than without the rain, though. He had to try five before he finally found the one the two aliens were whispering in.

“-feel him again, you said! I mean, that’s something, right?”, Patton asked when he entered. He stood there, dripping onto the floor, for a few moments as he watched Roman’s scales flutter softly. “Yes. But I can’t reach him. I’m just worried. What if it stays like that? What if I never get to talk to Remus ever again? I just… I miss him, you know?”, he whispered, just loud enough for the echo of the cave to carry it to Virgil’s ears over the raining noise behind him. Patton, in answer, let out a soft, sad chirp and rubbed against his friend. Roman cuddled him back, his tale wrapping around the smaller alien protectively.

He wondered if Remus would hug him back if he were to try?

What was he thinking?! Remus may be nice to him, but the creath wasn’t his friend. His other half made that more than clear enough for both of them. No, Remus was intrigued by him, maybe they were on neutral terms, but there was no way any alien would ever want to be friends with him, a human, a deathworlder.

With a sour taste in his mouth, Virgil walked over to his side of the cave and let the supplies drop. He could hear the other two stiffen when he did, but ignored the sharp pain in his chest. Virgil made a point of it to set out the things he’d brought back from the ship as carefully as possible, simply because that meant it would take more time. He both wanted to give the two friends a little time to collect themselves and wanted to stall for time before he had to face what he inevitably knew: That they still hated and feared him and always would, because he had no means to communicate his good intentions to them.

When he couldn’t put it off any longer, Virgil took a deep breath and clutched the fabric of the blankets in his hands. It wasn’t like fabric at home. Weirdly thin and sleek almost like liquid, but still as warm as a duvet. The color was weird, too. Something in between maroon and black, but shining in every color of the rainbow when the sun hit the right way. A little bit like oil. Virgil wasn’t too sure what it was made off, only that he didn’t want his thoughts to wander in that direction. But they worked, and they were cheap, so Janus and he had bought a few with the stolen money.

“It’s not really stolen, you know? Think of it more as a… compensation. For the things they did. Besides, they don’t need it anymore. At least we still have a use for this.” Janus’ words echoed inside Virgil’s mind, making him smile fondly. They’d snitched the money and their first disguises from the ship they’d been held on and bought the ship outside with it, together with more elaborate disguises, a few supplies and necessities. They’d used it all up quite fast and since it was kind of hard to get a job without risking to be found out, Janus had quickly become quite the skilled pick-pocket. Sometimes they would just go on missions with little to no risk of being seen. There were only few of those, but somehow Janus and Virgil had been able to make due.

Until he’d lost Janus.

If he was being honest, Virgil had given up on finding him here. Or at all, really. Space was just too big and planets were too big and Virgil was too small. And with storms like these here? Even Janus wouldn’t have been able to survive this for all too long. He would have kicked the bucket by now if this had been where he’d decided to go into hiding after they’d got seperated. And even if he was still out there, if he hadn’t died or been captured by now… There was no way Virgil would find him anymore.

And he really only wanted to go home right now. Go back to the house with too large windows and too clean floors and uncomfortably quiet dinners and suffocatingly tense air. Back to the yelling and fighting with his father and the frustration and the useless therapies and the scandals in the news. He wanted to go back to being the problem child, wanted to go back to earth where he knew what he was supposed to do and what he couldn’t do and where he was just an outsider, not a monster.

Shaking his head to disperse the thoughts and biting his lip to push back the tears, Virgil’s hands clutched the blankets even tighter. Not right now. He’d wait out the storm, find those aliens’ missing crew mate, figure out a way to talk to them, bring them to safety and then he could go back to drowning in self pity until the oxygen in the ship would be used up and he’d suffocate. And now? Right now he had to make sure the two aliens in this cave with him didn’t die of the cold they’d been shivering in for the last few days.

So he took another deep breath, this one shivering more than the last one, went over to where the two watched him, one with caution and one with horror barely concealed by a mask of anger, and threw the blankets at them. Patton caught one in his hands, while the other got stuck on Roman’s horns. Patton, of cause, carefully took the second blanket as well, as Roman was still tied up and couldn’t reach for it himself. Both of them looked at Virgil silently and Virgil only looked at them.

“There you go”, he couldn’t say, “If you need something else tell me. I want you to stay healthy.”

So instead he turned around, ignoring the way one of them breathed a sigh of relief, and put the berries as well as one of those weird fruits that reminded him of a pineapple in taste and a persimmon in texture on what had essentially become Roman’s plate. He walked back over to them and put it down on the floor, a little away from them so that they wouldn’t tense up as much. He knew Patton would reach it once he was gone, even though Roman couldn’t.

“I hope you like it. I know it’s not much, but we’ll have to make due.”, was stuck in his throat underneath glued lips and a limp tongue. But maybe his eyes conveyed the message just a little bit. At least Patton looked into his eyes, looked back down at the food and hummed happily: “Thank you!”

Virgil blushed, hoping that they wouldn’t see it in the dark. He quickly retreated into his corner of the cave and curled up in his own blanket. He chewed on a piece of alien bread, ignoring the sour taste, and watched as Patton put one blanket around Roman and curled up in his own, sharing the fruit and the berries with his friend.

The delighted chirp Patton let out when he ate the fruit, now, that Virgil did not ignore for once. At least he’d done something right, he thought, pulling the blanket tighter around himself. At least something at all…

___

Logan looked outside suspiciously. Could he get outside now? It was still pouring rain outside, but at least it had let up a little bit. Just a little bit, though. But was it safe? And did it really matter whether it was safe or not? After all, Roman and Remus or Patton could still be out there in that rain. If so, he knew that he had to find them quickly. Patton may be immune to lightning as sylemn didn’t conduct electricity, but Roman and Remus were surely endangered by the lightning he’d seen before. And even if electricity couldn’t harm Patton, a sylemn was very much flammable.

It was day still, but with the clouds and the rain the sun was a lot less bright, which very much worked in Logan’s favor. The rays of sunshine were barely more potent than on his home planet, and due to his cross-species breading it would not harm him as much as it would other photynêsc.

Just as he was about to go out, he saw the deathworlder return to the cave on the opposite side, his arms full of supplies. And he hesitated when he entered the cave, his eyes obviously focused on something inside. Or was it someone?

Logan’s heart sunk further when he realized that his fear from back then might very well be true. It was possible that he had found one of Logan’s friends and taken them prisoner. Probably Patton, because neither Roman nor Remus would have gone down without a huge fight. No matter who had been in charge, that deathworlder may have won but wouldn’t have gotten away as unharmed as he appeared.

Logan closed his eyes to recollect himself. It was alright. If his assumptions were correct, that would mean that the deathworlder had let Patton live. For now. So that meant that Logan still had a chance to help him. Get in while the deathworlder was away or asleep and get him out of there.

But it was likely a trap. There was a high chance that the deathworlder had figured Patton wasn’t the only one stranded here and that others would come looking for him. Deathworlders were smart, after all, cunning and dangerously skilled in drawing conclusions. That was one of the few things known after Virgil Feline and Janus Serpent had escaped back then.

Logan involuntarily shuddered at the thought of those two. He could only hope that this deathworlder would be at least a little less volatile and/or violent.

Careful not to let himself be spotted, Logan left the cave. He shuddered again at the cold water raining down on him. He wasn’t necessarily against being wet. Back home everything was covered by a thick layer of fog at all times, after all. But this cold water, heavy and raining down in almost painful drops, was something he hated about the planets far from his own. Not that he would ever say that out loud. If asked he would only say that it was uncomfortable to him.

Soon he saw the warmth emitting from the cave. The entire cave appeared to be slightly warmer than the outside, but he could see the deathworlder on the right side to the cave even warmer, though a lot less warm than he himself, Patton or Roman and Remus should be. Was that normal for a deathworlder? That cool body temperature? Logan wasn’t sure.

Taking another breath, Logan hid behind a tree. He hoped that that was enough to hide the soft glow of his skin. He couldn’t be sure about the sensitivity of the deathworlder’s eyes, though, so he wasn’t entirely sure. And it wasn’t exactly an ideal position either. He couldn’t see much colors in the darker cave, only temperatures. At least from this far away. And the temperatures were hard to pick up on at this distance as well.

But he did see something, and what he saw made breathing harder than it should be. Not only Patton, but Roman as well were huddled up together opposite from the deathworlder.

So did that…

Was that…

That meant…

If this really was a trap, Logan concluded with bile raising up his throat, it could only be for him. And if he didn’t fall for it, he didn’t want to imagine what would happen to his friends, his family.

This truly was a disaster.

Taglist 🖤

@the-ultimate-a @bunny222 @elvis-has-been-dug @what-is-love-babey-dont-hurt-me @gattonero17 @selenechris

#tell me if you wanna be tagged #fanfiction #sanders sides fic #sanders sides au #sanders sides deathworlder au #humans are deathworlders #deathworlder au #earth is a deathworld #deathworlder

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vcidgalpin · 4 years

Text

Second Chance at First Line Pt 1

Stiles Stilinski x Reader (Eventually)

Season 1 Masterlist

Word Count: 2074

A/N: Secrets get revealed, suspicions are raised and tensions keep rising between Y/N and Stiles. It’s only a matter of time before things bubble over.

Warnings: None?

After just getting in from school, I got a call from Lydia. I pick up quickly and recognise her worried tone instantly.

“Y/N, It’s Jackson. He got hurt during Lacrosse practice pretty bad. Can you come meet me at the hospital? They kind of creep me out, and I just want someone to distract me,” She needed a friend, so I grabbed my keys and told her I will be on my way.

I get there pretty quickly, and hastily make my way to where she said she was. I turn a corner and see Stiles standing talking to someone who I can’t see from where I’m standing.

“I always thought that we just had this kind of connection. Unspoken, of course. Maybe it'd be kind of cool to... get to know each other a little better.” Lydia.

“Hold on just- give me a second. I didn’t get any of what you just said. Is it worth repeating?” A breathy laugh escapes my mouth before I stop it and Stiles whips his head, noticing me finally. He rolls his eyes at me before replying to Lydia,

“No. Sorry. I’ll just sit- You don’t care,” He slumps down in a chair, sending me daggers. “Of course you’re here, why wouldn’t you be?”

“I was just thinking the same thing, funnily enough. What law are you breaking today? Body snatching? You know, breaking into the morgue?” I joke, with a venomous tinge on my tongue, but I hear his heart skip a beat, which caught me off guard. Are they seriously planning on breaking into the morgue? “You know, just because your dad is the sheriff, doesn’t mean you should try and push the boundaries as much as humanly possible because he can get you out of it. Do you want your dad to get fired?”

That clearly struck a nerve with Stiles, because he pushed himself up out of the chair and stood close to me, eyes boring into mine.

“Don’t talk about my dad. You-you think you know everything, huh? God, what is your problem? First you follow me everywhere and then you start coming for my family. Get a life,”

“Get a grip, Stilinski. I am not following you and I would never do anything to hurt anyone on purpose, so get your head out of your ass. This is real life-”

“Y/N! I thought I heard your voice!” Lydia sang out, from a few steps away, clearly curious about the ruckus that me and the buzz-haired boy were causing. I force the anger off of my face and walk over to Lydia, not before shoulder checking Stiles as I passed.

“Lydia! How are you? How is he?”

“He’s almost done, I think they’re going to give him a cortisone shot,”

“Guessing he’s not too happy about that.”

“I think he’s just stressed in general, he does so much,” I hold back a scoff, I don’t want to test or upset Lydia so I give her a small smile for comfort. A moment later, Jackson walked over to us.

“Did he do it?”

“He said not to made a habit of it but one cortisone shot won’t kill me,”

“You should get one right before the game too. The pros do it all the time. You want to be a little high school amateur? Or - do you want to go - pro?” Lydia always knew how to get what she wanted out of people, which is a talent, but it’s also scary as hell. By now, the couple were making out, way too aggressively and publicly for my liking, so I took a step back, looking around. I caught Stiles staring at them from behind a pamphlet on menstruation. Scott rushes over to him and lowers the booklet, scaring the other boy.

“The scent was the same,” They talk so openly, it’s like they want me to actually start following them round, like what I’m accused of doing.

“So he did bury the other half of the body on his property. So we have proof he killed the girl. I say we use it,”

Lydia nudges me in the side to get my attention.

“You coming?” I needed more information, but I didn’t want to seem suspicious. All I need is confirmation of my guess that they’re talking about Derek.

“Are you doing this because you want to stop Derek, or because you want to play in the game and he said you couldn’t?” Thank you, Stiles.

“Uh- yeah sorry I’m coming,”.

“Do you like him or something?” She pushed, clearly investigating why I was watching them so closely.

“Kind of the opposite, I guess. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. Where are we headed?”

---

Around 11pm, I saw Scott walking out of his house as a blue jeep pulled up. I throw on a coat and tie my hair up, rushing out to my car to trail them to the Hale house. Or, I guess, what remains of the Hale house. As soon as I get close enough to walk there on foot, I stop my car and hop out. Quietly, I make my way to the burned building and see Scott and Stiles trying to find where the body is buried. Weirdly, all I can smell is a dead animal, possibly a wolf? I haven’t been around many actual wolves, living in California and all, but the smell is what I’d think one would have. Slowly, I can feel a headache coming on, and I get slightly dizzy as I crouch by a tree near to the pair.

“Something’s different. I don’t know how but…” Scott's words fade out. “Let’s just get this over with.”

Now that I am here, following them, I do feel a bit odd. Morbid curiosity always seems to get the best of me. It’s not my responsibility to watch over Scott, but I feel drawn to him in a weird, subtle way. He was a lot like me when I first turned. Stubborn, channelled my anger into an activity I never used to be good at, but enjoyed. In my case, that was track. I may be clumsy when I walk sometimes, but when it comes to running it’s a different story. Before I turned, I always wanted to join the track team, but the leaders all didn’t think I was cool enough, or whatever. In Beacon Hills, I never bothered to even look into track, maybe I should get into it. I usually just run in my free time. Anyway, I think I feel some weird connection to Scott because of how similar we genuinely seem to be. Looking back at the boys, I can see that they have finished digging, and are now freaking out about what they’ve come across.

“I told you something was different.”

“This doesn’t make sense,” Stiles huffed, for some reason upset that they didn’t find a mutilated dead human in the ground. I get wanting Derek in jail, he likely killed someone, maybe multiple people, and if he buried a wolf in the ground, that’s clearly the actions of someone who has something wrong with them, but I still wouldn’t be happy to see a dead girl either.

“We gotta get out of here.”

“Wait, look. You see that flower,” Stiles points at the purple flower sticking out of the ground. Wolfsbane. That explains the headache. It’s basically right in front of me- Crap. Stiles quickly makes his way over to examine the plant further, and he almost immediately sees me, awkwardly crouched down.

“We really need to stop meeting like this,” Forcing a laugh, I speak first.

“Are you serious with this,” He mutters under his breath first before speaking up a bit, “What’s the excuse now, did you just think, oh you know what would be fun? Going to sit and stare at the Hale house at 11 at night? Seriously, what’s your deal?” By now Scott was over next to Stiles. He seemed on edge at the fact that Derek could likely find them at any time. Suddenly Stiles gasps, a thought hitting him. “You’re the alpha. That has to be it!” I accidentally laugh quite loudly, before slapping a hand over my mouth. “It’s either you or Derek.”

“It’s not me. Wait, Derek’s a werewolf?” I question before realising what I had let slip. “I mean… Alpha?” Okay that was a terrible cover up.

“How do you know so much about werewolves? What are you, some kind of hunter or something? Oh my God, do you work with Allison’s dad?!” He is all over the place with his theories. “No. I- I just know a lot about… stuff.” Maybe it would be better if I stop trying to lie, because I’m evidently not very good at it. “You’re a werewolf,” Scott finally speaks. “I didn’t know why part of my smell is different to other people’s, but I just figured it out. You have it too, so does Derek.” He’s got me there. But wow I feel out of the loop. I have never been close enough to Derek to get his scent, or I would’ve known this information before. Quickly, I realised I don’t have a rebuttal for Scott’s accusation, and panic. Guess the cat’s out of the bag, or whatever the wolf equivalent of that phrase would be.

“You’re a quick learner Scott. You got me but-” Before I can speak Scott moves at lightning speed and pushes me against the tree, his arm over my throat. “Wait, I’m not the Alpha okay!? I wasn’t purposefully following you until tonight… And I guess that time when I said I was on a jog- but that’s it!”

“Then what’s your endgame here?” Scott growled out, his voice low and threatening. I could easily push him off me, but I’m scared that a sudden movement would not be good for me, especially with this lack of trust.

“I- I don’t know, alright. I promise I’m telling the truth. Hey- you wanna know a trick, listen hard, find my heartbeat okay? You can tell me if I’m lying. I’m just curious, and I knew you were turned recently, so I felt the need to keep an eye out. I know how it is to be newly turned, and I always wished I had someone to mentor me. I’m not gonna assume that’s what you want, but I know a lot more than you do right now, so if you want to learn, that’s good with me. If not, please just let me go and I will leave you alone, alright?” My words were rushed and my speech was scattered but I think I got my point across, even with my lack of breathing ability. Scott’s arm eased up on me, so I gasped in more air, grabbing at my throat.

“She told the truth, Stiles.”

“Or she’s learned to control her heartbeat. Listen, you really want to trust this girl who has been spying on us for God knows how long.”

“Hey, what is your problem with me? I literally haven’t done anything to you, I’m here for Scott. And I guess for my own morbid curiosity too, but none of that has anything to do with you, Stilinski.” I spit out, I can feel myself losing control. “You don’t like me? Fine. But I can help you both get Derek in jail for whatever he did, and I want to find the new Alpha. That is if it isn't Derek.”

“New Alpha? Are you not part of his pack?” Scott tilts his head.

“No, I was turned ages ago. Before I even moved here, my Alpha was some douchebag guy from school. But he disappeared a few months before I moved here, so I don’t have a pack.”

“Are you looking for the Alpha so you can join his murder spree?” Stiles snarled.

“Are you stupid? I’m not looking to hurt anyone okay. This guy seems dangerous. Alpha’s who turn random teenagers are always trouble, I know first hand. Scott, we have already gone through such similar things. Do you want my help?” He pondered for a second, sinking his hands in his pockets.

“What can you tell me about Wolfsbane?” A smile crept onto my face. Happiness flooded me, it felt so oddly good to be trusted by him. Stiles muttered under his breath,

“I know about Wolfsbane too,” kicking the leaves around his feet.

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#teen wolf #teen wolf imagine #teen wolf rewrite #teen wolf series #teen wolf season 1 #stiles stilinksi imagine #stiles stilinksi x reader #stiles stilinski #stiles x reader #stiles x y/n #scott mccall

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tundrainafrica · 3 years

Note

1) about the social class headcanon that you write, that’s actually makes sense, but isn’t exactly what i meant. According to Isayama, Hange when she was young looked very much like Eren in the way of acting (even more with the titans), and (this part I am not sure if it is true) she lost her family at the fall of the maria wall. Eren looked like a rebellious teenager angry at everything, and recently I found out that depression in teenagers and children tends to manifest itself that way

2) (anger and rebellion), well, we know Eren was depressed (it only got worse with time) but what about Hange? seems to me she learned to hide her feelings so it wouldn't be between her and her job. We don't know her past, she probably didn't grow up in a violent place like Levi but it doesn't mean that her life was all joy and happiness you know..

--------------------------------------------- MY ANSWER --------------------------------------

Hello Anon,

Thank you again for your ask! Woops, sorry if I didn’t answer your questions. I answered those two asks in a row so I ended up just building off of the last one.

I don’t think it was ever confirmed if Hange lost her family at the fall of Wall Maria. I did some research and couldn’t find stuff on my end. If you could send me some on that, I’d love to read it.

I am aware at least that no one’s life is all joy or happiness. I think there is a difference though with growing up without ever having to consider your next meal and living in abject poverty.

There are people who have had time to be a child and there are people who haven’t. So I think to a degree, Hange had more of a childhood than Levi. And a normal childhood is incredibly important for every single child. The early years are crucial because that’s where children build wonder, curiosity. That’s one of the psychological reasons behind children’s books. They make everything so fantastical to heighten the senses of the children. Because in fact, children only get full control of their senses later in life. Before they are even able to make sense of everything, everything is just a huge bubble or conglomeration of senses. That’s why children are so perceptive, imaginative and quick to learn things like languages. Their view of the world isn’t set yet by the rules and norms of the society they live in.

That’s why asking children questions and exposing them to so many different things at a young age and providing for them is important. Children need to see the wonder of the world while not having to consider their next meal, their danger. A childhood is generally where curiosity and imaginative thinking is most easily built.

And that’s why I say, that Hange somehow is a lot more curious, sees a lot more wonder than Levi. Similar to Erwin, he had a pretty comfortable existence, he went to a good school, he had a father who engaged him and that’s why Erwin was able to think beyond what was within the walls. Same for both Eren and Armin. Eren had his father who probably fed him some info and Armin had his parents books and his parents who were curious enough to build that hot air balloon

And, I know about that scene in the manga that explained that it was the lightness of the titan head that got Hange curious about titans. I think kicking the titan head was a good catalyst for titan research but I suspect that even before that, Hange was curious about the outside world. Hange’s interest extends beyond titans for sure because it was confirmed by Isayama already that Hange would have been studying botany outside the walls if it wasn’t for the titans. Also, the way Hange is handling the new world where she’s constantly on top of developments in Paradis etc, also shows that titans are only one facet of her scientist personality.

Besides, if she didn’t have that wonder and curiosity about the outside world, I don’t think she would have done something as ridiculous as join the survey corps in the first place.

“Eren looked like a rebellious teenager angry at everything, and recently I found out that depression in teenagers and children tends to manifest itself that way”

Although depression can manifest itself in anger, similar to Eren’s probably, there’s no exact formula for how humans react to anything. It’s incredibly complex that the field of psychology (or any other field) is just a conglomerate of people and a bunch of reports and the people trying to make sense of all the results of the experiments they made. This is particularly true in the social sciences where any findings won’t point to anything as exact as those in the pure sciences.

Anger and rebellion could also stem from someone having grown up in a rich family with strict rules on how to go about this and that is generally how it fits into my head canon. Someone can have a good relationship with their family while at the same time have qualms about how they were raised. To be honest, I’m probably the same way. I grew up in a relatively well off family, I was a generally angry teenager but I admittedly have a generally positive relationship with my family.

Okay to tackle the issue on depression

I don’t want to be quick as to define any action or any emotional analysis as depression. Depression is an incredibly complex subject, there are biological causes, life events and it manifests itself in so many different ways. So many different ways in fact, that people are rarely diagnosed with just depression. There are always diagnoses which accompany it.

To be honest, I went through a period in time also where I was considering ending it. I was sleeping a lot. I quit everything. I went straight home from school. Barely talked to anyone. I talked to a counselor about it, then a therapist but it took them months before they wanted to give the diagnosis of depression. I actually never pushed through with the sessions after a while, got busy with school and eventually, this cleared up on its own weirdly. I’ll never know actually if I was depressed during that period in time. Was I going through very stressful life events, definitely. Were my answers to the tests they were giving me alarming then? Probably. They could have pointed to depression. But I generally got past it and am generally a happier person now without much intervention. So was it even considered depression? I’ll never know. Some people who are probably much stronger than me needed interventions to stay functional. They needed to make radical life decisions, like move out from their parents place, change their courses to keep going. They needed meds to keep functioning everyday.

Depression is a complex and terrifying condition and manifests itself in so many different ways. In fact, talking to some friends who really watched their life spiral down because of this shitty condition. Towards the later stages of depression, they weren’t even feeling anything anymore.

Could Hange have been experiencing symptoms similar to depression? Definitely. General teenage anger and hormones can manifest as symptoms of depression. Grief can manifest with symptoms of depression. Loss can manifest with symptoms of depression. Trauma can manifest with symptoms of depression. Hange will have experienced a lot of things that

Note : Also Eren’s depression? I honestly think given the experiences he had, inheriting the founding titan and inheriting centuries worth of trauma, I think his experience is beyond fathomable for the average person so I chalk that as completely something else.

Okay, to answer your question, Hange was probably not in the best mental state late into Season 4.

Of course she wasn’t, she lost Moblit, she lost Erwin and suddenly she was pulled into a place with so much responsibility. And she was probably suffering from a case of survivor’s guilt on top of that.

Hiding emotions comes down a lot to discipline, self control and the general strength of your inhibitions.. Emotions are manageable like I could say, I have successfully stopped myself many times from punching someone in the face. Someone’s ability to stop themselves from acting on impulses, someone’s ability to manage their inhibitions is dependent on numerous factors like home environment etc. It is also dependent on the context of that moment where someone has to choose between punching someone in the face or walking away, on the context of that moment where people choose between lying in bed and letting the day go by and standing up and plastering a smile on their face. I guess, that’s the point I wanted to make in a previous post. If Hange did grow up rich, she probably found it a little easier, to plaster a smile on her face because not ever having to experience desperation at an early age, coming to the realization that you’ve had it easier than a lot of people growing up, can do that to people.

But yes, towards the end of season 4, she was going through something. She was struggling, despite her smiling face. But really, in attack on titan, who is happy post chapter 122? Like I cannot think of a single person in that manga who is happy at that point. Please tell me if you can think of anyone.

Would I chalk up Hange’s true feelings to depression?

Manifestations of depression maybe? Post traumatic stress? Stress with little time to process anything or rest? Exhaustion? Not being in the best mental state? Maybe.

I wouldn’t use the word depression definitely.

Depression is an incredibly heavy world with so many implications. In fact, it’s a medical condition which needs to be diagnosed thus, I wouldn’t use that at all to describe anyone’s situation unless they have had multiple consultations with multiple doctors and have been laid a final diagnosis.

I hope this clears things up.

Thank you for the ask again. I appreciate it :D

#attack on titan #eren jaeger #hange zoe #meta

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heycallmeladytypewriter · 3 years

Text

The Call of a Siren- Chapter Four

Chapter One / Two / Three

A/N: Here is the promised longer chapter! You'll notice I changed some minor things, something I will occasionally do as most writers. Once again, if anyone is interested in beta reading please DM me! Enjoy!

I don't own My Hero Academia. I only own my own characters and the story I create within Horikoshi's masterpiece of a world I'd love to live in.

The next day was more of a normal school day. Well, almost.

Present Mic was going on and on about proper grammar of the sentences he would write and adjust on the board for fifteen minutes before Delia zoned out. She didn’t get much sleep as yesterday’ s fitness tests scores bothered her still. She was second to last which only reminded her of her lack of experience using her quirk. Once again, she felt frustrated being raised in an ‘anti-quirk’ home. Everyone else except Midoriya and herself had years of training and time to figure out their abilities but at the very least Midoriya had All Might. She had no one.

“Oi brat! Stop doing that!” Angry boy hissed in her ear. She jolted in her seat before realizing she was rapidly clicking her pen - a habit of hers when deep in thought. Delia lifted her pen slightly so he could see it and clicked it a few more times aggressively before putting it down on her desk.

Then he kicked her chair leg a bit when Present Mic turned around to write more sentences on the board. Bastard. Just another happy reminder that she sat in front of Bakugo which was already proving to be the pain in the ass she figured it would be when assigned. She curled her hands around the edge of the desk to prevent from turning in her seat to kick him in the shins.

She was practically bouncing to get out of her seat for hero training just to get a break from sitting in the same room for the past few hours. That was one thing she probably wouldn't come to love- staying in the same classroom for multiple classes rather than back home she would change classrooms with each subject - something she liked due to stretching her legs, changing seats, different people, and getting away from the asshole who kicks her chair when she annoys him.

“ I AM HERE!” All Might rushed in with his booming voice, “COMING THROUGH THE DOOR LIKE A HERO!”

Everyone immediately sat up in their seats in excitement that the number one hero was...well coming through the door like a hero! The class practically jumped out of their seats they were so excited.

“I can't believe it's really All Might.”

“So he really is a teacher! This year is gonna be totally awesome!”

All Might marched right over to the podium as the class took in his choice to wear his Silver Age costume which was pretty cool. He announced that he will be teaching ‘Hero-ing 101’ and that today he was starting off with battle training.

“Fight training!” Bakugo growled out excitedly while Midoriya countered with a nervous “Real combat?”

“But one of the keys of being a hero is looking good!” He swept his giant arm towards the wall expanding with numbered briefcases. “These were designed for you specifically based on your Quirk registration forms and the requests you sent in before school started. So everyone grab your assigned cases by your number and get to the locker rooms! Meet me at Training Ground Beta!”

The girls around her were chatting away while opening their cases but Delia sat with it in her lap for a few moments.

“Wow, you guys look great.” Delia said to the girls. Momo Yaoyorozu was dressed in a simple red leotard with a chunky yellow utility belt and short red boots. Mina Ashido gave her a twirl in her new costume of a cute camo-like body suit of teal and purple with a short cropped fuzzy jacket. It was random out of context but given what little she had seen of the bubbly girl - it weirdly worked. Kyoka Jiro rocked ripped jeans, a long coral shirt, black jacket with a popped collar, and what looked like giant chunky boots with a speaker in them. Tsuyu Asui was a ‘frog’ personified in a black and green suit with webbed feet and giant goggles on her head. Lastly, Ochaco Uraraka looked like an adorable astronaut in her pink and black suit with her cute oversized boots and wrist accents. Yaoyorozu smiled at her compliment, “Thank you. Why aren’t you getting dressed?”

“Are you nervous, Bell?” Asui asked her, looking concerned.

Delia pulled on her neck, “A bit, yeah. But I’ll be fine.” Ashido let out a small squeal and nudged her, “Well then put on your costume! We wanna see you looking great with us!”

Delia bit her lip before clicking open the clasps to reveal her new costume she spent months trying to create. Blowing air out her cheeks, she stood up and placed it on the bench to start dressing. “Here goes nothing.”

“They say that clothes make the pros young ladies and gentlemen, and behold, you are the proof!” All Might stood a few feet ahead of them as they entered Training Ground Beta. “Take this to heart. From now on you are all...heroes in training!”

Everyone was checking out one another's costumes as they walked. The guys looked great except Mineta’s looked like he was in a diaper so that was an odd choice. When she saw Midoriya run out she almost facepalmed. Way to be obvious dude. The simplistic green and red design was fine but the hood part of it resembled too much of his all time favorite person. Her eyes kept scanning until it landed on the person practically foaming at the mouth to start.

If she had to be honest with herself, she would say he had one of the best costumes but she wouldn’t tell him that. He wore a tight tank top with a large orange ‘X’ in front, a belt with what looked like grenades on the side, some hardcore knee pads, then down to some heavy duty boots. The giant grenade gauntlets hooked on each arm looked heavy so she hoped he could take them off in a tight spot. She let out a small snort... Of course the boy with anger management problems would resemble a human grenade.

Biting her lip, she looked down at herself wondering if her costume matched her the same way. She pulled her hair up in a high ponytail mostly for practical purposes. She wore a high collar but sleeveless open shirt that was hooked to her by a small silver belt under her chest. She was wearing a silver strapless swim top underneath as well as black small swim shorts that could be seen as well because her thick skirt was cut into three large panels- two on each hip covering her sides and partly her backside and then one straight down the middle with a medium silver utility belt fastening it to her person. One of her favorite pieces was her, as she liked to call them, her ‘ass kicking boots’ that went to midthigh and had thick non-slip soles and a slight wedge heel. Plus, they were pretty with their silver intricate designs. She also had silver gauntlets on her arms. The coolest feature was her water storage system. In the event, she was without any water near her to use her quirk she had compartments built into her suit. Every silver accent and design on her clothes like her boots, shorts, belts, and gauntlets were made of some ridiculously strong but flexible material that was hollowed and filled with water that she could pull from or store for emergencies. It wasn’t a massive amount but was enough for a quick emergency whip or two. Plus, everything was in a shade of dark azure blue. She felt like a water warrior.

Momo Yaoyorozu came over to her and knocked her with her hip, smiling. “Told you. You look great and it seems some others are taking notice.” She subtly nodded off the side where Angry Boy was standing diligently. Delia frowned because she had no idea what she was talking about but before she could open her mouth to say that she heard weird breathing down behind them.

“God, I love this school.” They turned to see Mineta standing way too close and way too happy.

“Okay, that’s just wonderful. Go love the school from over there, please.” Delia pointed to the group of others gathered a couple feet away. Yaoyorozu even went as far to actually ‘shoo’ him with hand gestures like he was a bug. That had Delia cracking up which prompted Momo to start giggling with her as he trudged over to the other group when All Might cleared his throat to signify class was starting. The class promptly lined up to face the number one hero.

“Now that you're ready, it's time for combat training!”

______________________________________________________

As they got settled in the monitoring room, she introduced herself to her partner for the exercise today. She spotted him a few feet from her in a martial arts costume and noted that he was the kid with the really big tail. Delia walked right up to him and stuck her hand out, “Hi, I’m Delia Bell. Looks like you’re stuck with me today for the ‘mission.’” She used air quotes for that last word jokingly.

“Oh hey! I’m Mashirao Ojiro. Happy to be stuck with you.” He joked back. “So I think we should watch this first run and get some idea of our strategy, sound good?”

“Agreed.” With that, they turned to the screen as the first mission started. Unfortunately, her excitement abated because she had a really bad feeling considering who was involved in this group as Midoriya and Uraraka walked through the building.

After a few turned corners, it started...then never really stopped. The class was on the edge of their seats after Midoriya laid Bakugo out flat on the floor and declared his hero name, “Deku.” Despite the escalating situation, Delia smiled proudly as Midoriya basically gave Bakugo the finger as he took back the name that was used to hurt him and stood his ground. Unfortunately, this only encouraged Bakugo to continue with full force. Midoriya then used his impatience to trick him again with the capture tape they were given before the match and ducked under another explosive punch before running down the corridor.

“The little guy’s really good!” The boy in a yellow bodysuit standing beside Jiro commented.

“He’s holding his own and he hasn’t even used his quirk yet!” The boy dressed in what looked like a tape dispenser helmet (?) said impressed.

We watched as Midoriya ran from Bakugo until he was completely lost to him. Bakugo began to yell furiously, “DAMMIT! You were tricking me for years by acting weak! Bet you’ve been laughing behind my back, huh?” If this idiot only knew…

“Come out and face me you coward!” Bakugo was blowing up doors left and right but walking with such arrogance, Delia was surprised his giant sized ego could fit through the door.

Meanwhile, Uraraka finally reached Iida who again proved his intelligence by hiding everything in the room that she could possibly float and use against him. She snickered when she heard Iida’s ‘evil voice’ while calling Uraraka a ‘do-gooder,’ What a dork.

“That isn’t a bad idea really.”

“What is? Hiding everything?”

“Yeah. Something to take a mental note of and I also think maybe we should try sticking together and allowing the ‘do-gooders,’ ”Delia again snickered at his impression of villain Iida, “to come to us on our home turf.”

She nodded, “Sounds like a plan to me.”

They both turned back to the screens to see Midoriya had found Bakugo who was now smiling which probably was a bad sign. “ Since you’re such a stalker, by now you probably know how my Quirk, Explosion, works. I secrete a nitroglycerin-like sweat from my hands and make it blow up. Imagine what I could do if I had a lot of it. “ He stood back into a lunge with his arm extended to the boy across from him. Oh, no . “That's right, these gauntlets aren't just for show. I’ve been storing my sweat for one monster blast.” Okay, One: Ew. Two: Mega Oh, no.

“Young Bakugo! Don’t do it! You’ll kill him!” All Might yelled into his microphone that she assumed was connected to their ear pieces.

“ He’ll be fine as long as he dodges !” Bakugo yelled right back and pulled the pin.

Delia’s hand went out to Ojiro's arm next to her as if to brace herself from what she just witnessed. He didn’t push her off as he too stared in horror at the screen.

“Whoa, whoa! This is fucking nuts!” Kirishima called out as the whole building they were in shook from the blast.

“Come in! Come in, Midoriya!” All Might was all but pressed against the screen as the dust cleared and we saw a giant hole where the walls and windows once were in the room. The class collectively sighed in relief when we heard a weak, “Is that even allowed?”

Then this goddamn psycho came out of the smoke and laughed. Laughed!

“Go ahead. Use your stupid Quirk on me, Deku.” He crouched low and smiled that disturbing smile again. He almost looked unhinged. “Even if you use everything you’ve got, you’ll never beat me.”

“Sir, isn’t this getting outta hand? That Bakugo is getting real crazy. He’s gonna kill ‘im!” Kirishima voiced Delia’s exact thoughts. The class all nodded in agreement and looked at their teacher expecting him to follow suit and shut this down.

“Not so.” Sorry, what? “Bakugo. Use that stored-up power again and I’ll stop this fight. You’re team will lose.”

“ Huh? ”

“To employ such a strong attack indoors is inviting the destruction of the stronghold you should be protecting. That’s a poor strategy, whether you’re a hero or a villain. The penalty would be a massive loss of points.”

That resulted in an angry yell before he rushed Midoriya who was talking to his partner. It seemed he had a plan though she couldn’t even see how at this point especially how her floating herself to the weapon earlier didn’t work against Iida’s speed. Midoriya threw a punch but Bakugo, in an amazing amount of speed and skill, flipped mid-air using a small blast and counter attacked from behind to hit Midoriya right in the back with a strong explosion.

“He doesn’t come off as a guy with strategy. But he’s actually quite intelligent.”

Ashido, Kirishima, and Delia took their eyes off the battle for a moment to look at the boy half covered in ice. “What’re you talkin’ about?”

“He changed his trajectory while in midair and using a blast that doubled as a smokescreen. Very clever.”

Yaoyorozu chimed in with noting his ability to understand the physics of the situation and his Quirk. Denki Kaminari, whose name she remembered only due to that Mr. Aizawa had already used it so much in a day and a half because he was a high school five year old, moaned, “Ugh, Bakugo is uber talented. I hate it.” Delia pressed her lips together because while she agreed with her classmates on Angry Boy, she was still horrified by his behavior as he continued to beat the hell out of Midoriya. This oh, so intelligent and talented boy is basically throwing a tantrum and he had the nerve to call her ‘brat.’

“This is hard to watch! All he has to do is wrap tape around him, not kill him.” Ashido cried out.

“Bakugo is certainly acting like a villain.” Tokoyami responded.

“I thought Midoriya was pretty amazing at the start of the fight, but he’s completely outmatched in terms of combat power. Not to mention, Bakugo seems like a natural at all this stuff.”

“Give him a chance.” Delia said sharply. Kaminari looked at her surprised as her tone was with more bite than she intended. “Sorry. But give him a chance.”

Delia turned back to the screen once again and saw the boys facing off again but near a different set of windows. They exchanged words then lunged at one another but this time it was different. Midoriya was finally using his Quirk and Bakugo’s hands started sparking up as well.

Delia gripped her arms harder, “All Might…”

“They’re gonna kill each other! Sir!”

The Pro hero said nothing but gripped his tiny microphone hard enough it should've been in splinters before speaking into it, “Both of you-”

“Uraraka, now!” The class looked up at the video feed of the others and the brunette grabbed hold of a pillar. All of a sudden, Midoriya punch for Bakugo went upwards creating a giant amount of force to break the ceiling above as he took on Bakugo’s explosion head on. “SMASH!”

His punch created massive amounts of debris for Uraraka to use and she used the pillar she held onto as a bat and swung the floor pieces at Iida. As he was distracted in fending off the debris, she floated herself over to the weapon thus winning the mission.

The class was entirely silent as All Might declared the hero team the winners. Was this really a win?

After a few moments, she heard Ojiro say, “Okay...we aren’t going to do that.”

_________________________________________________

“Match two! Team B will be our heroes! Team I will be the villains!”

As Ojiro stretched, Delia pulled out some water from her belt to form a whip. “Hey, I’m going to hide behind one of the pillars near the door so I can surprise them.”

He nodded, “Good idea.”

The buzzer went off.

As they braced themselves for the heroes, it turns out Shoto Todoroki had different ideas. All of a sudden, the whole room was covered in freezing ice. Her boots were stuck in ice and as she peeked around the corner of the pillar so was Ojiro's. Damn. I didn’t think he had power like this!

“This Quirk is insane.”

She may be stuck but she still had her whip which she kept moving to prevent from freezing. They both stilled when they heard footsteps.

“Pry yourself up if you want, but it might be hard to fight me with no skin on the bottom of your feet.”

“Good thing I wore boots then!” Delia kicked herself free and lashed her whip around Todoroki’s right arm which wasn’t covered in ice. His eyes widened slightly before freezing her whip around his arm but she had another one at the ready that grabbed his arm again and tugged as if to throw him back but he had stuck himself to the floor with his left side. Before she could react, he covered her body from the chest down in ice preventing Delia from doing anything more.

“The hero team winnnnnns!” All Might announced over the loudspeaker.

“Fucking dammit!” She muttered as she tried to break free of the ice. But she didn’t need to as Todoroki suddenly emitted enough heat to defrost the whole building, Ojiro gasped, “Heat, too?”

Delia scrunched her face as everything was now wet which would’ve been great if the fight was still going. “It’s not your fault. We’re just playing on different levels.” Well, damn. Thanks so much. He said it so mildly and without emotion as if it was as simple of a fact that two plus two equals four. For some reason, she couldn’t find her anger at it because he was right. Delia felt deflated as he walked right back out the door he came in. Ojiro shrugged at her, “It’s the second day. We’ll get it next time.” She attempted a small smile at his effort to not seem upset on how quickly that ended. She gathered some of the water on the floor and refilled her tanks before walking out with her partner.

They settled back in the screening room as each battle went on. Delia took the time to see everyone’s Quirk and was impressed by how power heavy the class seemed. Acid, shadow, hardening, tape, energy beams, and it went on which was great to watch but definitely put even more attention on how short her and Ojiro’s battle went. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Bakugo far from the group with his gaze on the floor and teeth gritted. He was not taking this well. Maybe I wasn’t far off in the unhinged part from earlier...

Delia was half tempted to see if he was alright, which she obviously could tell he wasn’t, but pulled herself back as she did not like how he was in his battle in the slightest. The urge never went away as her classmates continued the missions and she kept one eye on the screen and the other on the boy looking on the verge of a crisis in the corner.

Finally, everyone had battled and class was dismissed with a quick congrats speech in from their teacher then an even quicker exit as he zoomed right out. Delia figured it was because he was losing his stamina at holding his form.

_____________________________________________________

Back in the classroom, Delia was putting her books in her bag when she heard the door open.

It was Midoriya who looked much better than when she saw him last. A bunch of the class ran to meet and introduce themselves to him which was a nice change of pace for him, she assumed. She doubted he was very popular in his last school considering how he and Bakugo came from the same school.

“Tokoyami! Stop using that desk as a chair!” Iida walked determinedly to the boy sitting on his desk while he talked to her former mission partner and Jiro. Jiro put her hand on her hip and said, “Dude, you need to chill.”

Ojiro pointed at him, “You’re carrying a lot of tension.”

Iida slumped forward in defeat as she walked over to the small group, “No one understands.” Delia swung herself on the desk next to Iida which caused them to laugh as she put her hand on his shoulder with comfort and some slight mocking, “It’s okay, Iida. Someday they’ll learn proper manners and respect.”

He sighed and nodded before turning to her, “Yes, well uh - Oh, c'mon!”

Delia giggled and swung her legs like a child, “I said they would. I didn’t say I would too.” She giggled again when the blue haired boy pinched the bridge of his nose in irritation before walking away.

“Hey, Bell.” She looked up from laughing at Jiro. “Yeah?”

“Is that a My Chemical Romance button on your bag?” Delia looked over to her desk with her various buttons and stickers on the side of her bag.

“Yes, it is. You a fan?”

“Major.”

“I listen to them occasionally as well.” Tokoyami threw in. Jiro grinned, “Nice to know some of us have some taste.” Ojiro scratched the back of his head, “Well, I guess I have none.”

“It’s alright. We’ll just have to educate you!” Jiro elbowed him gently. Delia looked at her watch then hopped off the desk, “Oops. I have to catch my train!”

When she ran outside, her eyebrows raised as she saw that Midoriya and All Might were staring off into the distance. Delia waved at them, “Feel better, Midoriya. Have a nice night, Sir!”

Running down the hill, she flew up to Bakugo and found her feet slowing a bit. They looked at each other for a moment and Delia opened her mouth to say something before she thought better of it and continued down the hill to catch her train home.

#bakugou katsuki #bakugou smut #bakugo katsuki #bakugou x oc #mha fanfiction #mha smut #TCOAS #bnha bakugo katsuki #bnha fanfiction

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romiantic · 3 years

Note

SO Panther Megumi,,,🙇🏾‍♀️

I feel like he was probably captured an experimented on like when he was a cub so he's grown up inside a cage inside a lab

OOH MAYBE THE LAB WAS LIKE DISGUISED AS A NORMAL LIKE SCIENTIST LAB WHERE THEY'RE MORE NICE but you get in that elevator and go down a few floors and see the shit you're doing and you're like 😀

you were prolly a new intern and pressed the wrong button in the elevator and got lost lmfao

But you're walking down the hall with these cages and you happen to see this Panther curled up in the farthest corner of the cage with this heavy collar on with lights and buttons and shit and he's just :(

When he hears you, he probably shies away from the bars of the cage as much as possible

and you realize this place is doing bAd things so you make a plan with some of your friends to like expose the place woeijfhreg

And maybe like you volunteer at a reserve so that's where you take the animals

It takes awhile to get Megumi to let you get close to you. He doesn't outright attack you but he'll growl at first when he sees your hands outstretched towards him

For some reason you decide to talk to him, telling him everything's gonna be ok and you're not gonna hurt him, you just wanna help

after a bit, he lets you get close enough to take off the collar but as soon as it's off, he pulls away again

When you let him free onto the reserve he just looks confused

and you urge him that it's ok to go explore

It's all new so Megumi kinda just stands there like 🕴

But it's understandable why he wouldn't fully trust you after what he's been through

And everyday you swing by the reserve to put out fresh water in places and give the animals food, but you especially swing by where Megumi is He hasn't moved around much from the initial area you left him in. He's walked in circles and sniffed maybe a bush or two before laying down

and as the days go on, and you keep coming and talking to him and just hanging out, even just sitting at the foot of a tree and doing work, just getting him comfortable with your presence

and eventually he does get comfortable! He knows the times you swing by and slowly he starts to inch closer to you, sitting a little closer when you come by and visit

And then maybe you come by with good news that your'e gonna start actually working for the reserve and they give you a place to live on the reserve based on where you work the most (IDK WHAT TYPE OF NICE ASS RESERVE THIS IS BUT WOIHUFIREEG IT HELPS WITH THE PLOT)

And when you first move onto the reserve you don't get to spend s much time with him cause like you're moving boxes and shit and he kinda misses you and at the times when you're normally there with him, he gets antsy and paces around

when you visit at the end of the week, he's so excited to see you that he just goes straight up to you and you're like !!!!! because he normally doesn't walk up to you

If he missed you a lot, he may hesitantly nuzzle your leg (he's not used to affection)

and you tell him what you've been doing, and you sit down under your tree but to to your surprise, when you stretch your legs out, he goes to rest his head on your thighs while you talk and its just a big step because iweofhuige he's never been that close

And more time passes and one day you come with a water bottle and backpack and you get his attention and when he goes over to you like ???? You tell him you're gonna show him around the reserve cause he's stayed in that same area since he got there

he hesitantly follows you and y'all go exploring which is pretty fun after that day he's been more open to you, and sometimes it takes him awhile to run up to you cause he's somewhere else on the reserve

IUWEHWIFH THIS IS SO WEIRDLY FORMATTED ND ITS A LOT OF WRITING IM SORRY

The first time you saw him in his human form it was probably on a super hot day and his panther is black and it has fur so he's probably hot

WEOFIJEWIFOWJ YOU GO TO WHERE YOU NORMALLY MEET HIM AND HE'S SURPRISED CAUSE YOU DON'T NORMALLY COME THAT EARLY AND YOU JUST SEE THIS DUDE SITTING UNDER A TREE WITH BLACK EARS AND A TAIL AND JUST A PAIR OF BLACK PANTS AND YOU'RE LIKE 😀

AND HE GOES

"Uh"

OIWJFOEJWF AND HE HAS TO EXPLAIN HIMSELF BEFORE YOU HAVE A STROKE OR SOMETHING

AND YOU OFFER HIM TO COME INTO YOUR APARTMENT FOR AIR CONDITIONING AND LIKE A COOL SHOWER

Please you gotta give him a shirt before you have a stroke cause all he was wearing before was a pair of pants

and after, you pour him some ice tea and sit at your table and just talk for the first time

LMAO IMMA END THIS ASK HERE IT GOT SO FUCKING LONG IM REALLY SORRY

NO NO YOURE FINE BUBBLES

OMG I LOVED ALL OF THIS

and poor megumi for suffering so much :((

but it’s good that he gets somewhat of a happy ending. idk about the rest but hopefully he does

okay but this storyline is kind of making me scared for the angst

cause that tiger yuji and tiger sukuna angst almost had me CRYING 💔💔

#{ 🎼 } — 𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫 bubbles #imagine bringing a bowl of food to Panther megumi and instead you see this fine ass nigga standing #like 🧍🏾‍♀️#LMAOOOOOOO SO AWKWARD

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soveryanon · 4 years

Text

Reviewing time for MAG181!

- Little nice touch: the fact that time was passing normally inside of the house… immediately felt through the sound of the clock in the background, marking the passage of time:

(MAG180) 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.

(MAG181) [CLICK–] [CLOCK TICKING IN THE BACKGROUND] [CLASSICAL MUSIC IS PLAYING; LOUIS SPOHR’S “SECHS DEUTSCHE LIEDER FÜR EINE SINGSTIMME, KLARINETTE UND KLAVIER, OP. 103: N°2 ZWIEGESANG”] [SOUNDS OF CROCKERY AND LIQUID BEING POURED] SALESA: Hmmm.

(I still have the reflex of associating the sound of a ticking clock with Elias’s office, so I was expecting Big Talk from the get-go! Aaah, I wonder if we’ll “hear” Elias’s office again, before the end…)

As they discussed, time was quantifiable again, existing outside of Jon&Martin (even when they were sleeping), not solely as events succeeding to each other. … On the other hand: it’s concerning that the tape’s case number was still “########-21”: time passes and is quantifiable on a day-to-day basis, Martin was able to conclude that it was daytime thanks to the light, but there was still no date inside of the house. It’s a “little bubble” of normalcy and time, but still existing in the middle of a chaos.

- In the same vein as last episode it was also neat how we could already understand that this space was operating differently, since Jon&Martin needed to physically take care of themselves again:

(MAG180) SALESA: 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.

(MAG181) [CLICK–] [CLOCK TICKING IN THE BACKGROUND] […] SALESA: Come in! Did you sleep well? Have you had something to eat? Annabelle said she’d shown you the pantry? [SALESA CEASES THE MUSIC] ARCHIVIST: [UNCOMFORTABLE] I, er… We… slept. I, I don’t know… H–how long’s it been? SALESA: About seventy-one hours by my clock. […] Come on, sit down, have a drink. [CLINKING SOUNDS OF GLASS AND ICE] MARTIN: You’re… sure? What time is it? I– Oh, huh. Huh! I can actually ask that question here! SALESA: You can indeed. MARTIN: And the sun’s high, so… SALESA: Good eye…! Martin, was it? MARTIN: Uh, uh… Yes. SALESA: Well Martin. It’s about ten in the morning, more or less. […] You’re sure you won’t have a drink? We definitely had some tea around here somewhere. MARTIN: Uh, I… already had some, thank you, uh! Some of us know how to be polite guests. ARCHIVIST: [SHARPLY] I don’t intend to accept anything offered by Annabelle Cane.

They slept, drank and ate! (But did they bathe. We don’t know if they did bathe. Though, Salesa would have probably commented on it again, if they didn’t.)

And on the one hand, I’m laughing really hard that they needed to sleep for three whole days to compensate for time spent in the apocalypse (that’s a long nap.), on the other hand… that’s weirdly optimistic for the rest of humanity trapped out there: I was fearing that if Jon&Martin managed to turn the world back, everyone would just collapse and die on the spot from exhaustion/hunger/thirst but, no, it seems like they could recover in this case?

- More on the differences between Jon and Martin later, but I like how it was quickly clear that Jon was less in control than his usual, and very aware of it: Jon was “disorientated”, his sentences were more hesitant, while Martin was quick to notice things, bouncing off from Salesa’s or Jon’s sentences, able to make small jokes. I loved and got sad over the Beholding one, since:

(MAG181) SALESA: How’re you feeling? MARTIN: [BLOWING AIR] ARCHIVIST: Disorientated. It’s like, hum… li–like I’ve lost my sight o–or, uh… SALESA: Well, you have, haven’t you? [HE CHUCKLES. IT ISN’T THE FRIENDLIEST SOUND] Annabelle tells me you work for “The Eye”. [PAUSE BUT FOR CLOCK TICKING IN THE BACKGROUND] ARCHIVIST: … Well, I–I wouldn’t exactly say I, I “work” for it… MARTIN: Uh… Well, I–I mean, you say that, but when you stop to think about it, it was literally our employer, Jon, so… Mmh! ARCHIVIST: I, I suppose.

They were actually talking about two different levels, each correct in his own way? Back in season 4, Martin had already pointed out to Jon that working in the Archives meant working for Beholding (MAG129: “I just– I worry. You’re working for someone… really bad!” “Yes, I’m not an idiot, Jon, but it’s no… worse than working for something really bad, so…” “At least, The Eye hasn’t gone after our own. Lukas has vanished two people!”); but on the other hand, Jon… has tried to distance himself from The Eye and what he wanted (by stopping to take live statements, by refusing to indulge in any contentment induced by the apocalypse, by deciding to stop the smiting spree): “working for” is both true (as a neutral stance, since they were tricked into working for Beholding through the Archival contract) and wrong (“working for” also implies some level of active participation?). It reminds me of Melanie’s stance about it (MAG150: “I didn’t say I was going to quit. I said: I’m not going to do my job. No researching; no filing; no… field trips. Nothing that is going to help the Institute in any way. […] Because this place is evil, Jon! And so… doing this job… Helping it out… even in small ways, i–is in some way… evil too! Every time we try to use it to do good, it just seems to make everything worse, and… and I will not be a part of that anymore. […] If I’m… just another cog, er… Maybe I can’t leave the machine, but from this moment? I–I–I’m not turning. I’m… jammed.”), and makes me wonder whether Martin and Basira’s ties to Beholding have been more or less protecting them in the apocalypse… Basira said that she thought she had been protected from the first wave because she was in the Institute, and Jon told her he couldn’t ensure her safety if they went their separate ways, and it didn’t prevent Daisy (who had been bound to the Archives by her own archival contract since season 4) from losing herself to The Hunt, but I still wonder if their ties to the Institute will factor in at some point…

- Blowing kisses in Martin’s direction for being a Polite Boy… and also absolutely doing with Salesa what he did with Peter and Simon – he KNOWS how to play older and potentially terrible men like cheap whistles and/or to get information out of them, and how to get them to like him!

(MAG120) MARTIN: W… what… What are you doing here, mister Lukas? PETER: Please, call me Peter. MARTIN: N–no. No, I think I’m okay.

(MAG151) SIMON: Let’s start over. Simon – Simon Fairchild. Peter asked me to look in on you and… have a small chat. Well! A big chat, really. Answer all those… nagging questions. MARTIN: Simon Fairchild. [PAUSE] [NERVOUS CHUCKLE] Wait, “Simon Fairchild” as in… SIMON: As in “all those people who said I did horrible things to them and their loved ones”? Yes. They have been in, haven’t they? I’d hate to think I’m underrepresented in here, not when Peter tells me that that… “bone” fellow has at least half a dozen. MARTIN: N–no, no, [NERVOUS CHUCKLE], not… not at all. Y–you’ve sent plenty of people our way. […] Right. SIMON: Sorry. Too “big” picture? I get that a lot. MARTIN: No, it’s… [INHALE] Thank you. This has… actually been quite helpful.

(MAG181) MARTIN: Uh… Mr.… Salesa? SALESA: Mikaele, please. Come in!

(MAG126) PETER: He managed to convince himself that he could get his ritual off first, which would have made all of this a… bit moot, but that’s not really an option anymore. So it’s down to us. You and me. The dynamic duo.

(MAG151) SIMON: And he’s not at all certain the world as we understand will come out the other side. MARTIN: And let me guess – you think he can’t see the “big picture”? SIMON: [INHALE] I see why he likes you! MARTIN: [SIGH] […] I thought you said that the maths doesn’t work. SIMON: Oh, you are a quick one! […] And this has been fun! [INHALE] Now. [CHAIR SCRAPES ON THE FLOOR] If we’re about done– MARTIN: We’re not. Sit back down. SIMON: Boooold~ [CHUCKLE] [CHAIR SCRAPES ON THE FLOOR] I like it.

(MAG181) MARTIN: Uh… Well, I–I mean, you say that, but when you stop to think about it, it was literally our employer, Jon, so… Mmh! ARCHIVIST: I, I suppose. SALESA: [FRIENDLY CHUCKLES] I like this one! [SHUFFLING] Come on, sit down, have a drink. [CLINKING SOUNDS OF GLASS AND ICE] MARTIN: You’re… sure? What time is it? I– Oh, huh. Huh! I can actually ask that question here! SALESA: You can indeed. MARTIN: And the sun’s high, so… SALESA: Good eye…! Martin, was it? MARTIN: Uh, uh… Yes. […] [SCOFF] In my experience, open books can actually be pretty dangerous…! SALESA: Ha! I do like this one! […] MARTIN: [LAUGHS] So–sorry, sorry! Y–you did look kind of funny, it was… li–like, like you were flunking an exam or something! SALESA: [CHUCKLES] Yes! Exactly that! […] MARTIN: Look, fo–for what it’s worth, I’d, I’d also quite like to know how this all happened? SALESA: … Fine. I’ll tell you how it happened. But you must sit quietly while I tell it.

I love Martin’s ability to get what he wants by weaponising his politeness/social niceties/a sense of familiarity.

- How Dare You, Salesa.

(MAG181) MARTIN: [SCOFF] In my experience, open books can actually be pretty dangerous…! SALESA: Ha! I do like this one! [SOUNDS OF CROCKERY BEING PUT DOWN] Now you mention it, you actually remind me of Jurgen a bit. In his– MARTIN: Ah, uh… SALESA: –younger days of course.

That was SO RUDE (who, in their right mind, would like to be compared to Leitner), and:

* Martin’s comment was quite interesting given that he never got directly involved with a Leitner, unless there is a Secret Story incoming from the time he worked at the Institute library, before the start of the show? But statements-wise (the ones Martin recorded, at least), the “DIG” book from MAG088 hadn’t been identified as such… and Martin had however speculated that Dexter Banks’s book, destroyed by Alexia in MAG110, was “a Leitner”. And it was a Web one.

* Not a direct experience, but he witnessed someone use one:

(MAG158) MARTIN: … That’s a Leitner. PETER: It is! MARTIN: And the, hum… the blood on it? PETER: That’s Leitner too! MARTIN: … Riiight… PETER: Do you want to see how it works? MARTIN: Uh, n–no; no, I’d really rather you didn’t mess it up– PETER: No, I insist! Watch. [SILENCE] MARTIN: Very impressive. PETER: I’m reading. Shush.

… And had been the one to discover the body of Leitner himself, alongside Tim, at the end of MAG080. Martin, especially Martin, wouldn’t want to be compared to Leitner given how he lived his life and how he ended.

* “In my experience, open books can actually be pretty dangerous” says Martin, who WANTED TO TOUCH THE BOOKS:

(MAG113) MARTIN: Ooh! Ooh! There’s a book in this one. ARCHIVIST: [HASTILY] Don’t…. touch it! MARTIN: Ooh… OH! Right. Yes. ARCHIVIST: Let’s… not touch any books we don’t know. MARTIN: Right.

(The books, and the plastic explosive. Arsooooon!)

- … So, Martin hadn’t had a direct first-hand experience of how dangerous ~open books~ could be, but meanwhile, someone who had a direct encounter with a Web one withdrew from the exchange and only chirped in when prompted, and to be distrusting of the Spider person. Jon wasn’t having a perfectly excellent time at the moment, uh?

(MAG181) SALESA: You’re sure you won’t have a drink? We definitely had some tea around here somewhere. MARTIN: Uh, I… already had some, thank you, uh! Some of us know how to be polite guests. ARCHIVIST: [SHARPLY] I don’t intend to accept anything offered by Annabelle Cane. MARTIN: [SIGH] SALESA: Oh, you know Annabelle? [SILENCE BUT FOR CLOCK TICKING IN THE BACKGROUND] ARCHIVIST: … Sort of. You do know she’s part of The Web? SALESA: [SARCASTICALLY] No? I assumed the thread holding her head together was due to a childhood knitting accident! [CHUCKLES] MARTIN: Ha!

* … I’m REALLY, REALLY, ABSOLUTELY NOT SURPRISED that Jon, especially Jon, would want to avoid any “gift” from a Spider-person, given how 1°) he read enough statements about Hill Top Road to know that Raymond Fielding was making the teenagers eat apples full of spiders to turn them into eggs sacks (don’t accept the Spider’s food!), 2°) it mirrors guests bringing gifts to Mr Spider in the hope of not getting devoured. Was Jon internally panicking during their stay, fearing that Annabelle would take Martin like Mr Spiders had taken the gifts and the people bringing them, including Mr Horse’s son…? (I doubt that Martin made that “guests” comment on purpose; I’m still not sure he knows the details of Jon’s childhood encounter with The Web? He knows that Jon hates spiders and is wary of them, that he has suspicions about Annabelle Cane, but did Jon tell him the whole story about the book?)

* … However, that brings to mind the lighter again: Jon “I don’t intend to accept anything by [Web-related individual]” has kept the Web-design lighter since he realised it had been delivered to him in MAG036, had been unable to question it when prompted by Gerry (MAG111) and Daisy (MAG136), complete with static-indicating-that-something-supernatural-was-going-on in the latter case… So, hum. Jon, your lighter. Think about your lighter, Jon. Was it a gift, and for what, Jon. Is it a 100% Web-flavoured gift, or is there a bit of something else (Desolation, Agnes) in that one making it more acceptable, Jon.

* Uh, so quite strangely, we got confirmation that Annabelle does look like the description we previously had of her, with her head injury:

(MAG069, Darren Harlow) “With a sudden, unexpected motion, he charged at her and slammed his full weight into her side. The attack took her completely off guard and she fell hard against the edge of the broken window, the side of her head making a god awful crunching sound as it hit. […] I looked at the crumpled form of Annabelle Cane just as it started to get back up. I could see the side of her skull had been caved in, and beneath the wet mess of blood and bone, I saw a mass of dull white cobweb.”

(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. […] All through it, she just kept staring at him, hands pressed into the pockets of her hoodie – occasionally pushing long, spindly fingers out against the fabric, smiling to herself.”

(MAG136, Alison Killala) “It was almost six months ago when the woman came to our door. She looked like a film student, and at first I took her for a fan. […] I was about to ask her to wait while I checked with him but as I started to speak, she turned her head, revealing a mass of white thread, criss-crossing all over the side of her temple, standing starkly against the dark brown of her skin. She told me to sit down. And I did.”

… Which is… rather distinctive, so how come Jon apparently got a bit of trouble recognising her immediately when she opened the door?

(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. [FOOTSTEPS AS SHE TURNS TO LEAVE] 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] ARCHIVIST: So… Annabelle, what are you playing at, what are you doing here?

Was it Jon recognising her but not making a fuss about it? Being so used to relying on his powers that he didn’t even have the reflex of connecting the dots himself? Was Annabelle’s head covered, or was she showing another side of her head?

- Letting The Web do whatever is confirmed as the most popular tactic to deal with it, uh.

(MAG121) OLIVER: Honestly, I’m… still not exactly sure why I’m here. But… you know better than anyone how the spiders can get into your head. Easier to just do what She asks!

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

(MAG148) BASIRA: Or that we were being stalked by some freaky spider woman. Don’t tell me you didn’t know about that! ELIAS: Ah, uh, y–yes… W–well… To be honest, I’d… advise you to leave that one – well alone. BASIRA: Oh yeah? ELIAS: Uh! Look, look, look. I’ve… been doing this a long time now and, if there’s one thing I’ve learned about The Web, it’s that it plays its own game. All you can really do is… hope it doesn’t get in the way of whatever your plan is. Because the Spider usually wins…!

(MAG150) ARCHIVIST: O–kay. [SIGH] It’s just… The Web can be subtle, you understand? MELANIE: And? For all you know, its plan is to paralyse you with indecision…! ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] MELANIE: Leaving you… sitting here, terrified that… everything you do is somehow all part of its Grand Plan… And who do you think that fear is gonna feed? ARCHIVIST: Yes, well. [INHALE] You are… not the first, to make that point.

(MAG181) SALESA: Of course I know she’s with The Web. ARCHIVIST: … And that doesn’t bother you? SALESA: Not especially. And even if it did, what good would it do? MARTIN: … Uh, so what’s the deal with you two anyway? SALESA: It’s an odd situation, but not a complicated one. Shortly after I decided to stay here, she arrived; wandered in from the chaos out there and told me she was going to stay with me. I didn’t get this far by pitting myself against The Web, so I welcomed her in. ARCHIVIST: … “And”? SALESA: And sometimes she cooks. ARCHIVIST: She “cooks”? SALESA: I don’t know what you want me to say, it’s a big house and I don’t see her much. Can’t even say which corner she’s made her nest in! Whatever she’s doing… all I can do is hope it doesn’t wreck my little oasis. And if it does… then I hope that by keeping her in good graces, she’ll at least do me the courtesy of killing me first? MARTIN: Mm-mm… SALESA: … Anyway. Let us talk of happier things, or perhaps just take a moment to enjoy not being out there…! […] She keeps… mostly to herself, and when she does talk, it’s usually more of the sinister monologue variety– MARTIN: Ah! SALESA: –or cryptically telling me I’ve got “guests”…! […] ARCHIVIST: I… It’s going to be difficult to relax, with a spider lurking around. MARTIN: [SIGH] SALESA: … It gets easier with practice.

I mean, as mentioned by Salesa, there is still the risk that Annabelle will kill him or make him suffer worse, and has just been using him for her own goals… But also: not worrying about it means not feeding The Web? Unlike Jon, who spiralled so heavily into paranoia during season 4, worried about being trapped in The Web’s plans, about being potentially influenced and threatened by it.

I love how Salesa depicts Annabelle’s arrival and behaviour towards him: it’s… absolutely spider-like? She entered the house, made herself at home (she even has a “nest”), and gets rid of the insects. She had told Martin&Jon that Salesa was waiting for them:

(MAG180) ANNABELLE: Come on in. He’s waiting for you. […] I’m just helping out around the place a little bit. Making myself at home. You know how it is. MARTIN: … Jon, I don’t like this. ANNABELLE: You can relax, Mr. Blackwood. You’re safe here. […] 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.

… but it was initially her who just Informed Salesa That Yep, He Has Guests Coming, Lucky You, and Salesa rolled with it.

- On the one hand, Salesa is going with the flow hoping that Annabelle doesn’t intend to make him suffer much even if she needs/wants him dead, and sounds pretty rational about it… But on the other hand, OOFT, BIG RED FLAG that Salesa, who sounds like his situation is still on his terms… was and is at the same time shown as a heavy drinker, who could potentially die from over-consumption:

(MAG141) FLOYD: He was drunk for the next two days, and we kept sailing on towards Cape Town. We no longer had anything to deliver there, but no-one was really sure what else to do. Whenever there’d been similar disasters before, Salesa was quick to make a new plan, let Captain Gaultier know what the next steps were. It was one of the reasons the crew trusted him so much. He just always seemed to know what we needed to do next. This time, though… felt different. He was distant, quiet. His words, when he spoke to you at all, were blurred with alcohol and regret. Nobody knew what the plan was, so we just kept going.

(MAG181) SALESA: Well Martin. It’s about ten in the morning, more or less. [PAUSE BUT FOR CLOCK TICKING IN THE BACKGROUND] MARTIN: … And you’re drinking. SALESA: Of course! Even in my little bubble of peace, I find drinking after dark leads to some rather morbid thoughts. […] And when I realised that the power moves with the camera, well, hm!, let’s just say I loaded up a truckload of supplies and went on some journeys of my own, before I found… this place. [MORE CLINKING GLASS AND ICE] No reason to not live the apocalypse in style…! [STIRRING NOISES] In the end… I find myself quite happy. I’ve supplies, for a good few years, and then I… plan to take my own life. I think perhaps that’s the greatest blessing the camera can bestow: I – can – die – here. Escape this place. Not yet, of course; and maybe the wine will do me in before I have to take matters into my own hands, but still… it remains a comfort. Anyway, no more stories, I think. Let us relax, and talk, and drink […].

Which. Is self-destructive on its own, and clearly indicating that Salesa hasn’t been quite as fine as he likes to pretend (assuming his role, hiding himself behind it with his friendliness and knack for stories), but also concerning when associated with Annabelle’s presence:

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

We-oops.

- Did Annabelle gossip about Jon&Martin here and there?

(MAG181) SALESA: Annabelle tells me you work for “The Eye”. […] Your powers won’t work here, Jonathan Sims, Head-Archivist-of-the-Magnus-Institute-London! The Eye can’t see this place…! […] You know, Gertrude once used that little trick to ask if I was trying to sell her a forgery? Admittedly I was, so I don’t hold a grudge; but I didn’t much care for the experience. Anyway.

He knew about the compulsion from Gertrude, as well as the nightmares induced by giving a statement (MAG115: “So I suppose if it’s a statement you’re wanting… it’s no inconvenience to me. I don’t sleep well anyway.”), Annabelle apparently introduced Jon&Martin a bit (and had warned him that they would pass out when entering his “little bubble”)… but what about Jon’s title as “Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London”? It was Jon’s way of introducing statements from season 1 to 3, not Gertrude’s (“Gertrude Robinson recording.”)

Did Annabelle make him listen to a few tapes? Specifically the ones about Salesa? Or did she report the way Jon used to introduce himself, a lot, to the point of Salesa internalising it as a way to chide and make fun of Jon?

- Oh JON…

(MAG181) ARCHIVIST: What is this place, how did you find it? SALESA: [SLIGHTLY CURT] I didn’t find anything. I made it. ARCHIVIST: [COMPELLINGLY] Tell me what happened. SALESA: … “No”. ARCHIVIST: I– Uh… Wh… Wh–what? SALESA: [DEEP AND LONG CHUCKLES] The look on your face! [CHUCKLES] Look, he’s so confused! MARTIN: [LAUGHS] ARCHIVIST: Martin! MARTIN: [LAUGHS] So–sorry, sorry! Y–you did look kind of funny, it was… li–like, like you were flunking an exam or something! SALESA: [CHUCKLES] Yes! Exactly that! MARTIN: [CHUCKLES] SALESA: Your powers won’t work here, Jonathan Sims, Head-Archivist-of-the-Magnus-Institute-London! The Eye can’t see this place…! [SILENCE BUT FOR CLOCK TICKING IN THE BACKGROUND] ARCHIVIST: … So what now? SALESA: Ah, no need for the suspicion, I’m not going to hurt you…! You’re quite safe! I’ll tell you soon enough; like I said, I have no secrets. But it will be… in my own time. ARCHIVIST: … Right. SALESA: You know, Gertrude once used that little trick to ask if I was trying to sell her a forgery? Admittedly I was, so I don’t hold a grudge; but I didn’t much care for the experience. Anyway. For now, just relax, and no doubt I’ll get there eventually; I haven’t had anyone to talk to properly in months! MARTIN: I thought… What about Annabelle? SALESA: She keeps… mostly to herself, and when she does talk, it’s usually more of the sinister monologue variety– MARTIN: Ah! SALESA: –or cryptically telling me I’ve got “guests”…! MARTIN: Uh…! Yeah, that sounds familiar. ARCHIVIST: I’m trying to be less cryptic…! MARTIN: I know, I know.

* That was incredibly rude of Jon, technically, so I laughed altogether with Salesa&Martin! Jon… is not used to people refusing to answer anymore, uh? But, on the other hand: YIKES that Jon is not used to people refusing to answer him and that he would try to rely on his compulsion… on someone who had been pretty chill and friendly so far, and wasn’t actively hiding anything or saying that some topics were forbidden. Jon was cut from The Eye in there, so it’s really… him, and him alone, who still has the reflex to ask / order people to give him an answer? It’s him and him alone trying to rely on his powers to gain control of a situation, when said powers weren’t currently influencing him? He wasn’t asking/ordering for The Eye or pushed by The Eye? I wonder if the few days he spent in the house helped him a bit to think about the habits he grew as Archivist, what had become a reflex that he had to let go of…

* Keyboardsmashing over Salesa cheerfully explaining that Gertrude had compelled him to check if he was trying to swindle her, and that he was, so he found it fair. Though, “I don’t hold a grudge”: he might have been a bit more pissed at the moment? I remember his MAG115 statement, where he was clearly annoyed and frustrated and toying with her, after one of his artefacts caused damage in the Institute – I like the permanent ambiguity, in Salesa’s words, making you wondering if he’s absolutely sincere… or “playing his role” of the good-natured and jovial merchant, who does awful things but is above feelings like regrets, heartbreaks or annoyance. There is definitely a bit of unreliable narrator vibe to his whole persona?

* Sarcasm was through the roof, tho (Annabelle’s knitting accident, Jon’s face when failing to compel, Annabelle being cryptic), but AHAH for Martin joining him – he’s getting to see many new deluxe Jon faces! (Pretty sure Martin must have found Jon’s bewilderment super cute?)

- I love how Martin can be laughing and the instant afterwards be firm about words that could cross a line:

(MAG181) SALESA: So what’s it like out there? I assume the Archivist must be a rather… powerful position, since you seem to be travelling through it pretty freely? ARCHIVIST: It’s, uh… Uh… Hum… MARTIN: … Jon? ARCHIVIST: Uh, sorry, I–I just, uh… Hmm. MARTIN: Uh, i–it’s bad. Really bad. [SIGH] It’s, it’s all carved up between the powers, and everyone has just been, sort of… scooped up and chucked into their deepest fears, it’s just… it’s just nightmare after nightmare after nightmare, and… I… uh… Why are you smiling? SALESA: I’m sorry. You’re quite right, it’s inappropriate. It’s simply… [INHALE] I have spent the last decade preparing for this to happen. Not just something like this, but almost exactly this situation. There was every chance, in fact, the great likelihood… that I was wasting my time, and throwing away years of my life on a ridiculous precaution. But I was right. I. Was. Right. … And now here I am, safe, warm and comfortable while out there the whole world screams! I don’t mean to sound… uh, uh, a–as if I’m happy that people are suffering– MARTIN: Good, ‘cause it does sound a bit like that. SALESA: … Then I apologise. I’m just not sure I can fully communicate the sense of… of vindication that I feel, all those long nights I spent wondering if I was paranoid or overreacting. But no! I am here. And I am safe. MARTIN: [SIGH] I mean… I guess that makes sense?

* So, unlike other avatars, who were able to tell on sight that Jon had a “powerful position” in the new order, Salesa deduced it from facts! That was a nice touch.

* … Worried over the fact that Jon… didn’t seem able to describe the apocalypse spontaneously. Was he trying to “know” about it from inside the house, once again hitting a blank wall, just like when he tried to compel Salesa? Has he lost the habit of just… storing, remembering and using information regarding what he experienced? It’s interesting that there was no static at all during the whole exchange: Jon was indeed unable to use his powers there.

* LOVE HOW QUICKLY MARTIN REACTED when he saw Salesa’s reaction; Martin was probably gauging him? He had been quick to ask for smiting (and was even planning for the possibility when they were at the door of the house), so… did Salesa dodge a bullet. (Martin, please.)

* Salesa has been shown to be quite prideful, uh? “I made it”, “it will be… in my own time”, “I was right”… (And I can’t tell whether he’s absolutely sincere about that pride! Is it, genuinely, an absolute comfort, or is he grasping at straws because what’s the point of being right when you’re alone and basically waiting for your death with a few luxuries?)

- So, confirmation that Annabelle does know about their journey! It was rather obvious but technically… we didn’t know for sure, since Martin had bullshitted a bit when reporting her words to Jon:

(MAG166) MARTIN: Just, what do you want? ANNABELLE: I want to help you, of course. [SILENCE] MARTIN: … No. Thank you. ANNABELLE: It’s a hard place to find yourself in, maybe I can be of some… assistance…! MARTIN: You can assist me by giving the… “creepy phone” thing a rest…! ANNABELLE: He is more powerful here than he’s ever been, isn’t he? [PAUSE] And you’re not sure what that means for you. MARTIN: [INHALE] I’m hanging up now. ANNABELLE: Does he even need you at all?

(MAG167) ARCHIVIST: Help us with what? MARTIN: ‘xcuse me? ARCHIVIST: Annabelle, help us with “what”? Our–our, our journey, killing Elias, vanishing the Entities – what? […] So. What did Annabelle say? MARTIN: She offered to help, but she didn’t say what with; she… asked us where we were going. I didn’t tell her, but… [SNORT] it was pretty obvious she had a good idea.

(MAG181) SALESA: So what of you two, what, what, wh–where are you going? You seem to be travelling with some purpose…! ARCHIVIST: Did Annabelle not tell you that? SALESA: She said you were travelling to the Tower, the, hm, “Panopticon”, she called it? Whatever that might be; she didn’t say what for. [SUSPICIOUSLY] Nothing that might cause me trouble, I hope? MARTIN: We’re going to try and end this. Turn the world back. ARCHIVIST: Martin…! MARTIN: Wh–what? Okay; maybe he can help. We could use some support and it’s, it’s not like he wants the world to stay like this either! SALESA: You are right. To a point. [INHALE] I would welcome a return to the real world. Eh! To be the only man to weather the greatest disaster in history of reality, utterly unharmed… What an achievement that would be, quite the boast! But alas, no, [INHALE] I can’t help you. MARTIN: What? Why not? SALESA: I have nothing to offer. Well, except perhaps some… basic provisions. I have food, drink, a few luxuries, but none of that would help you out there, and I’m certainly not going to follow you. No, I think the best thing I can do is to welcome you to stay in my sanctuary as long as you wish…!

* Annabelle at least knew their destination already; which means she might have a good eye on the map, and would know that (according to real-world geography) they’re also coming closer to Hill Top Road…? Also: was she expecting them to change their mind about their initial plans to turn the world back? Or did she not tell Salesa because she assumed it was doomed already, or in order to not worry Salesa too much?

* … I keep hearing Salesa and going “Welp, that’s someone who is VERY depressed and also good at hiding it”: the way he jumped with such curiosity and passion on Martin&Jon’s current journey, the fact that they had a “purpose”? It feels to me like someone who currently doesn’t have any, is missing company, and wants to hear about anything that could manage to break his routine.

* Martin had mentioned with Helen already that they were lacking allies, and he&Jon just separated from Basira… So he really craves any help they could get, uh… AND AT THE SAME TIME: Martin is very good at weaving truths when he’s trying to manipulate people; he did that with Elias to make Elias accept (/feel like he had decided) that Martin would stay behind at the Institute in MAG116, he did that with Peter all through season 4 (believing in The Extinction, wanting to stop it… but also, loathing Peter and refusing to serve his plans)… so was he trying to do the same with Salesa, sneaking into his good graces and pretending to be absolutely transparent, nothing to hide sir!, before evaluating whether Salesa was a threat to be disposed of or just harmless?

- … So, Annabelle had been there for at least a month, so she definitely banked on them finding this place on their way… or did she find ways to influence their journey in order for them to walk by the house…?

(MAG181) SALESA: It’s an odd situation, but not a complicated one. Shortly after I decided to stay here, she arrived; wandered in from the chaos out there and told me she was going to stay with me. I didn’t get this far by pitting myself against The Web, so I welcomed her in. […] ARCHIVIST: … Alright, I… [INHALE] I guess we can stay. Just for a bit. SALESA: Excellent, ah! I haven’t had guests since the world ended. ARCHIVIST: [FLAT] Lovely. SALESA: Oh, saying that, I suppose there was that insect thing that stumbled in here a month or so back… MARTIN: Oh, uh, uh, in–“insect thing”? SALESA: Some creature of the Crawling Rot. Anyway, it didn’t actually make it into the house before Annabelle managed to get rid of it. So, I refuse to count it as a guest. MARTIN: Mmm. ARCHIVIST: I suppose that makes sense…! SALESA: Of course, I can’t actually stop things crossing the border into my hideaway, as you both discovered. Another reason I’m content to leave Annabelle to whatever schemes she might be weaving.

Or did she influence Salesa in taking residence there? The fact that he would be there and that Jon&Martin would come close enough for Jon to notice that the whole area was weird (and that they both agreed to take a look) is… a lot of coincidences. Jon “baited” Basira when they were close enough, and they then hunted Daisy; and as for Helen, she has been explicitly following them – those weren’t coincidences, but intended. On the other hand, the current layout is a bit more suspicious?

… It also takes us back to the start, for a Web-affiliated person to go against a Corruption-thing. We had witnessed this since season 1: spiders attracted by worms because they’re food (as Martin suspected in Carlos Vittery’s building), a spider warning Jon of the incoming Prentiss attack (end of MAG038), big spiders eating worm corpses in the tunnels under the Institute…

(… Salesa mentioned that Annabelle was cooking, WHAT IS SHE COOKING. DID SHE COOK THE CORRUPTION THING… DID SHE FEED THEM ALL WITH THE CORRUPTION THING…)

- Aaaaah, I’m having so many feelings over Jon asking so many questions and being so curious!!

(MAG181) ARCHIVIST: What is… this place? SALESA: I just told you. It’s my little bubble. My silver lining on an otherwise cloudy day. ARCHIVIST: [HUFF] That’s not an answ– SALESA: Now tell me […]. ARCHIVIST: … So, you wouldn’t mind answering a few questions? SALESA: [SIPPING FOLLOWED BY CONTENTED SIGH] … I am an open book. […] ARCHIVIST: What is this place, how did you find it? SALESA: [SLIGHTLY CURT] I didn’t find anything. I made it. ARCHIVIST: [COMPELLINGLY] Tell me what happened. SALESA: … “No”. ARCHIVIST: I– Uh… Wh… Wh–what? […] How big is your safe zone, is it… is it always the same size? H… How did this happen? SALESA: [CHUCKLES] Look at him! Not three days without his master spooning knowledge into his head, and he can’t bear it! I thought ignorance was meant to be bliss? ARCHIVIST: [FRUSTRATED SOUND]

Same as last episode, that was Jon! It was Jon being himself and curious… Georgie had pointed out that it was Jon’s personality (MAG093: “If your job is asking questions, I mean. You were always the one who pushed too far, and asked smart-arse, awkward questions. I always was surprised you never got punched.”), even before the influence of The Eye – and now, we have the additional dimension that Jon might have grown a bit too accustomed to, indeed, Knowing things, and to getting people to answer him whenever needed or desired… But still. It feels like he was back to his roots?

(And Salesa was doing his best to frustrate him, cutting him off or commenting on it, pfft.)

- While Jon was more pressuring and blunt, I’m reeling over Martin who sugarcoated his approach a bit (joking with Salesa, sometimes agreeing with him or not antagonising him too much while having clear limits)… and got Salesa to give up his story:

(MAG181) SALESA: Of course I know she’s with The Web. ARCHIVIST: … And that doesn’t bother you? SALESA: Not especially. And even if it did, what good would it do? MARTIN: … Uh, so what’s the deal with you two anyway? […] Mm-mm… SALESA: … Anyway. Let us talk of happier things, or perhaps just take a moment to enjoy not being out there…! You are, of course, welcome to stay as long as you like. MARTIN: Uh, that’s… very generous…! […] I thought… What about Annabelle? SALESA: She keeps… mostly to herself, and when she does talk, it’s usually more of the sinister monologue variety– MARTIN: Ah! SALESA: –or cryptically telling me I’ve got “guests”…![…] I am here. And I am safe. MARTIN: [SIGH] I mean… I guess that makes sense? […] SALESA: No, I think the best thing I can do is to welcome you to stay in my sanctuary as long as you wish…! MARTIN: … Oh, well. [EXHALE] Thank you. I–I think we just might. Jon? […] Look, fo–for what it’s worth, I’d, I’d also quite like to know how this all happened? SALESA: … Fine. I’ll tell you how it happened. But you must sit quietly while I tell it. MARTIN: [CHUCKLE] Don’t worry, I have had lots of practice. SALESA: … And you? ARCHIVIST: [DISGRUNTLED SOUND] MARTIN: He’ll behave. SALESA: … My story is not a long one.

(GRUMPY JON WAS SO CUTE… JUST LIKE AN ANNOYED CAT…)

Martin has had experience with Peter and Simon, knows how to be strategical, and it worked. Salesa was clearly craving to give his story, to be the centre of the attention (the main star of the show?), and Martin… played the right cards to get him there?

There was no static, Salesa pointed out that Jon couldn’t use his Eye powers here, Salesa insisted that his statement was on his own terms… but I still wonder if he wasn’t compelled a bit? We didn’t learn much, it had a bit more flourish than our usual (but it’s not unheard of: avatars were shown to be very happy to portray themselves at their best during them), there were some potentially unreliable bits here and there (not unheard of either), but it was also… pretty coherent. Flowing naturally. A long tirade going straight to the points.

Could Salesa have been influenced by Martin? Simon had made it clear that Beholding had compelled him (through Martin) to give him his piece. Or was it… the tape recorder, somehow? It turned on when Jon&Martin were arriving (so, when a discussion would happen), and turned off after Salesa was done:

(MAG181) SALESA: Anyway, no more stories, I think. Let us relax, and talk, and drink, and… not worry about who might be… listening. [CLICK.]

So it was there for Salesa’s statement. Did it compel him?

- I like how we technically didn’t learn much through Salesa’s statement! Well, not much factual info, at least: we already had gotten a recent-ish written statement from him (MAG115, from January 2007); we knew that he had been Leitner’s assistant and had fled when he understood what Leitner was dealing in, that he initially mostly wanted to use his list of clients and had ended up dealing in supernatural artefacts almost coincidentally, that he let (rich) people acquire the artefacts they wanted and too bad for them if they caused them misery, that he was getting angstier between 2011 and 2014, culminating in the last mission to retrieve the camera, and that he had then vanished, presumed dead.

But I feel like we mostly learnt about his personality, in contrast to MAG115 (in which he was a bit more on the defensive, given that the Institute and/or Gertrude was going at him for a Slaughter artefact that had… got out of control) and MAG141, in which Floyd Matharu, who clearly kinda liked and respected him (“He was a good boss.”), had given us another look on Salesa: someone who was tired, who had lost people and was growing tired of this life. I find it really interesting to compare MAG141 and MAG181 since, in this episode, Salesa is clearly putting on a show of his own story:

(MAG141) FLOYD: Once found him pouring over an old photo album. The ship was there in the pictures, but a different captain, different crew. I asked him who they were, and he just looked at me, eyes sunken like he hadn’t slept, and for a second I felt like he was seeing someone else, not me. But then he just shrugged. “Dead now,” he said, “doesn’t really matter.” […] I followed slowly, unsteadily, but got there just in time to see Salesa throw both him and what looked like a blank rug over the side and into the ocean. Then he collapsed against the railing, a look of intense exhaustion passing over his face, and I left him there. He was drunk for the next two days, and we kept sailing on towards Cape Town. We no longer had anything to deliver there, but no-one was really sure what else to do. Whenever there’d been similar disasters before, Salesa was quick to make a new plan, let Captain Gaultier know what the next steps were. It was one of the reasons the crew trusted him so much. He just always seemed to know what we needed to do next. This time, though… felt different. He was distant, quiet. His words, when he spoke to you at all, were blurred with alcohol and regret. Nobody knew what the plan was, so we just kept going.

(MAG181) SALESA: But the years, they wear on you, and as I talked to more and more people versed in that secret world, more acolytes and would-be cultists about “rituals” and “destinies”, I began to come to a conclusion. As the number of people in the world grew, and the amount of fear grew with it, I began to become convinced that it was only a matter of time before one of them… succeeded. Before the world was transformed into… Well. You’d know better than me…! So I began to plan for my… retirement. I spent most of my fortune preparing. Some on supplies, but mostly hunting down an artifact that I hoped might give me some… protection. One I had sold right at the start of my career: an old broken camera. One that through some… quirk had the ability to hide you from the Powers…! […] Staging my death was a… comparative, erm, afterthought. In some ways… just a happy accident. And so I waited, and lived out my days in comfort. For the longest time I thought that, well… maybe I had simply entered normal retirement really dramatically! But then… well… I was right.

* “a happy accident”, says the person living with a Web person who knew he was there and threw Jon&Martin at him. (What happened, back then? Why the explosion, why did Gaultier report that they had been “betrayed”? Was someone else after Salesa, or “helped” him hide? If Gertrude was behind the explosion, it would have been mentioned at this point… Was it Annabelle, to ensure that Salesa would be a reliable trump card in the apocalypse?)

* It had been addressed during Arthur and Gertrude’s discussion, and has been a reccurring theme in the series: who really are these characters?

(MAG145) GERTRUDE: What was Agnes like? ARTHUR: … What? GERTRUDE: Well, for all The Web bound us together, I never actually met her. What was she like? ARTHUR: I… [PAUSE] I don’t know. Not really. You got as many answers to that as… folks who met her. Never really knew what she felt ‘bout any of it! Not really. Not in her own words. Guess that’s the thing about being the… Chosen One, or… I mean, Agnes was always quiet; but even if you spend all day, every day, throwing out commandments and… laying down parables… At the end of it, you’re always just the… point of someone else’s story. Everyone clamouring to say what you were, what you meant, and… your thoughts on it… all don’t mean nothing.

Is the real Salesa the self-serving and self-centred man who explained his story to Jon and Martin, all about money and then self-preservation, not giving any retrospective thought about his crew and the people who were following his orders and yet died because of it? Is the real Salesa the “good boss” Floyd had described, who was clearly nostalgic and affected by the losses throughout his life (why keep pictures of the deceased, if they hadn’t mattered at all)? Or is the truth somewhere within the mix, every statement a bit of it – how these characters used to be perceived, how they want to be perceived right now, how they acted then and how they act now?

* There is a bit of a parallel with Jonah, with the way both reached the fatalistic conclusion that someone would eventually manage to bring forth the apocalypse:

(MAG160, Jonah Magnus) “Why does a man seek to destroy the world? It’s a simple enough answer: for immortality, and power. Uninspired, perhaps, but – my God! The discovery, not simply of the dark and horrible reality of the world in which you live, but that you would quite willingly doom that world and confine the billions in it to an eternity of terror and suffering, all to ensure your own happiness; to place yourself beyond pain, and death, and fear. It is an awful thing to know about yourself, but the freedom, Jon, the freedom of it all…! I have dedicated my life to handing the world to these Dread Powers, all for my own gain, and I feel… nothing but satisfaction, in that choice. […] Of course, this desire did not manifest overnight. When Smirke first gathered our little band – Lukas, Scott and the rest – to discuss and hypothesise on the nature of the things he had learned from Rayner… I felt what I believe we all felt: curiosity, and fear. But as he compiled his taxonomy and codified his theories on the grand rituals, I began to develop a very specific concern. Smirke was still so obsessed with his ideas on balance, even as our fellows began to experiment and fall to the service of their patrons: I began to worry that if one of them successfully attempted their ritual, then I would be as much a victim as any, trapped in the nightmare landscape of a twisted world. At first, I attempted prevention, but the cause seemed hopeless. The only way to ensure I did not suffer the tribulations of what I believed to be… an inevitable transformation, was to bring it about myself. So what began as an experiment… soon became a race.”

Both came to the conclusion that an apocalypse would be likely to happen, and both of them worked on a way to mitigate the effects for them and them only, instead of ensuring that others wouldn’t succeed. … And in both cases, it doesn’t feel like they realised how they might have been used rather than in control: Jonah could have just NOT LAUNCHED ANY RITUAL when he discovered that anyway, a ritual would never work unless all the Fears were to be brought through together; and Salesa… had a few holes in his story? Admitted that there was an “accident” leading to his official death, allowing him to go into hiding? Is drinking heavily while having a Web-person as housemate, who explained how “addiction is one of the strongest vectors of control there is”?

- I wonder whether Salesa knew what had truly happened to Leitner, or not at all?

(MAG181) SALESA: … My story is not a long one. Not the parts that you care about, at least. The Powers I first learned about from Jurgen Leitner – you’re familiar with him? Then I don’t need to explain further. When I say I was one of his assistants, you know exactly the kind of education that would be. Terrifying, fascinating, misguided. The man was a genius, and an idiot. It didn’t take me long to see what he was blind to his whole life: that trying to control the Fears was a good way to get yourself killed, or worse. … I left long before he got what was coming to him, and tried to forget what I knew.

He probably assumed that Leitner had died when his library was attacked? Not brutally pipe-murdered by Elias.

(And sidenote, but: Salesa wasn’t presented as an avatar but he also joins the list of people in season 5 not even mentioning Jonah at all as an agent who matters, while Jon was identified as A Big Deal in the apocalypse. I don’t know if Jonah is still in any state to know and watch these things (merged with the Panopticon? Trapped within his old decaying body at the centre of the tower?), and he was certainly not able to see anything inside of the camera’s domain, but I hope that it Stings.)

- I’m not so surprised that Annabelle and Salesa seem to be getting along, since they both sound aware of their “role” in the overall narrative frame:

(MAG147, Annabelle Cane) “Now, I believe the tradition is to tell you the story of my life; the sinister path that led me inevitably to the sorry state in which I now find myself. Well, let it never be said I do not dance the steps I am assigned.”

(MAG181) SALESA: I lived my life, and I lived it well – successful, wealthy, and a little bit feared…! Smuggler to the rich and famous! There wasn’t an art dealer or curator out there who didn’t pretend not to know me! But the trouble is, once you’ve seen backstage, it’s hard to believe in the show anymore. You understand, I’m sure. You can never quite shake off the desire to have a peek…! To see what’s waiting in the wings…! […] Again, I made a lot of money, and remained untouched. It’s the sort of thing to set a man thinking about his life, you understand? I began to think hard about the world, about my place within it, and about fear! About the figure of the merchant, the trader who deals in strange and dangerous goods – how it can be found in so many myths and fables, dealing in second-hand nightmares. And how rarely the merchant themself is ever punished in those stories. […] To tell you the truth, I got a real kick out of playing my role. To think of myself as a purveyor of curses, walking softly through the most dangerous edges of reality, so that the rich and arrogant could buy their own doom.

(+ in some ways, Peter, too: “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.” (MAG159))

- So, who was the thing/person Salesa was “working for”?

(MAG181) SALESA: Sometimes people would come to me for solutions, protections or talismans to ward off the attention they had already called down on themselves. I sometimes did what I could to help, but I had to be careful. I could never afford to forget who I actually was working for.

Himself? The Fears, given how he made them more impactful by digging out and spreading cursed artefacts?

(Also, aaaah, I’m guessing that Noriega had been asking for help, back in MAG016, while he was suffering from Angela’s curse and had met with Salesa…)

- Salesa reminded me a bit of Leitner, and he would haaaaaaaaaaaate it? Leitner also wanted to take on a “role” and it… had backfired very badly:

(MAG080) LEITNER: I… thought that I could control them. That I alone had the knowledge to contain them. Back then, I believed they were simply books. Horrifying, powerful, yes; but with rules, limits that could be charted. … I was a fool. I had no idea what forces lay behind them, or that they had other servants that might come searching. […] I saw myself as a guardian, a reverse Pandora, gathering the evils of the world and locking them away. And so I branded them with my seal. I told myself that if any should escape such a mark could help me retrieve them. But I think, in my heart, I dreamed of my work becoming known. That “The Library of Jurgen Leitner” would stand as a symbol of courage and protection. Hubris. I suppose it is fitting punishment that my name has become a watchword for evil, spoken by those who only know it as marking the darkest, most terrible of secrets. My name has become a curse.

Is the merchant truly never punished in all these stories? Quite clearly, Salesa has it waaay better than the people out there (he’s not trapped in a personal nightmares, forced to relive terrible experiences over and over again)… but it’s also such an empty existence, with him having become what he used to loathe – as someone who felt like he was punishing the rich, he’s now living in luxury (Upton House, playing the piano, listening to classical music, drinking alcohol in the morning in nice crockery and assuming that said alcohol might end up killing him)…

- Aaaah, I love how the way the camera works does feel like it makes sense within that universe:

(MAG181) SALESA: So I began to plan for my… retirement. I spent most of my fortune preparing. Some on supplies, but mostly hunting down an artifact that I hoped might give me some… protection. One I had sold right at the start of my career: an old broken camera. One that through some… quirk had the ability to hide you from the Powers…! It was in the possession of another scared old man, one who had long been running from his own supernatural debts. I believe it operates as a sort of, uh, battery, charging itself on all the quiet worries that come from living in hiding, and then when the sanctuary collapses, eh!, all that fear flows out at once. … No doubt if my oasis breaks before I die, The Eye will get quite the feast from me. But in this new world, I would hope it has other things to keep itself busy. […] it hid me from The Eye, which, in the new order of reality, also protects where I am from the hellscape all around us. And when I realised that the power moves with the camera.

I also like that… just like a regular camera, it puts some distance between the one who is protected and anybody else, cutting them from reality. It explains why everything went to hell on that island after they took the camera (MAG141) and might be a curse in itself: feeding from the fears of the people into hiding… and anticipating their demise? (We also got told how Salesa could “end”, if it happens offscreen: if Annabelle’s plan is to use the camera without him… either she’ll be charitable and kill him, or tell him in advance for him to kill himself beforehand, either she will just leave with the camera, and Salesa will have it worse than everyone else.)

Also explains why Jon didn’t “know” anything about Salesa’s fate after talking with Floyd, and why he might have been drawn to him? Since he was a blind spot for Beholding, someone hidden from it. It’s quite interesting that we’ve seen so many different ways to get a (temporary or permanent) protection from Beholding? Gertrude was cutting eyes from pictures all around her (and Elias admitted that she had grown quite good at hiding from him); Leitner had the A Disappearance book, preventing Elias and Beholding from seeing him; Eric and Melanie discovered that gouging out their eyes freed them from the Archives; and now, Salesa pointed out that the camera was even specifically anti-Eye – thus, Jon not being able to use his powers around it… Was it initially a Dark artefact? Or an Eye one, just with a delayed reaction (as the fear of “being watched, being followed, having your deepest secrets exposed”)?

- CRIES, because it was to be expected that Jon wouldn’t fare for long in this place:

(MAG181) [PACKING NOISES] MARTIN: You’re sure we can’t stay longer? ARCHIVIST: Yes, I–I–I’ve been, hum… Uh, these last few days I–I’ve been… getting weaker. Dizzy spells, vagueness, you’ve seen it. Being cut off from the Eye, i–it’s not good for me. MARTIN: Yeah, but if… [INHALE] If you’re that connected, that… dependent, what happens if we actually, y’know, do manage to– ARCHIVIST: We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. For now, I just need us to be moving on. MARTIN: Hm… […] Feeling better? ARCHIVIST: Uh… Yeah. I’m afraid I am…!

And he reminded me a lot of how he sounded during his partial withdrawal (from live statements), in the second half of season 4: raspier voice, tiredness, the feeling unwell…

(MAG150) ARCHIVIST: … Still feeling weak. Restless. I want to be proactive, but there hasn’t…! That hasn’t been going quite so well for us lately.

(MAG152) HELEN: Hungry, are we~? ARCHIVIST: That’s not…! I haven’t done anything– HELEN: Yet. [SILENCE] ARCHIVIST: I feel like if I don’t… I might die. Fade away into nothing.

(MAG154) MARTIN: No, ’t’s fine, I ju– You just surprised me, that’s… Jesus, you all right? You… you look like hell. ARCHIVIST: Oh! Uh, right, I, em… ki–kind of weak. Hungry, I–I guess, sort of. I–I’ve been trying to a–avoid, being, hum… Sticking to old statements?

(MAG155) ARCHIVIST: I feel weak. Like I’m… fading away. Do I restrain myself, keep my appetite in check, even at the cost of my life? Or do I try to rationalise what I am, like… Ms. McHugh? I find myself… hating her, her… callous self-deception. But am I so different…?

Except that, back then, Martin hadn’t directly witnessed it – Jon went without statements after MAG159, for three weeks at most (after taking Peter’s live statement), and he sounded mostly fine if eager to read when they received Basira’s statements. Here, it feels like Jon’s degrading state went much quicker and more impressively… and it was a reminder of Jon’s connection to The Eye. Jon cut the conversation short, but they really will have to talk about it, and about how setting the world back, as of now, really sounds incompatible with Jon’s survival…

(Sob at Jon’s “moving on”, because it echoed MAG180’s title: back then, “moving on” had given the feeling of… reaching another chapter, accelerating after a stagnation? But now, “moving on” means returning to the apocalypse, the Fears, their journey towards the Panopticon, and did they learn anything that could help their quest inside of the house? The camera could be useful, maybe, but then…)

-I am HOWLING at Martin’s outburst of rage towards Annabelle because AHAHAH, who used to accept her tea and be a ~polite guest~?

(MAG181) SALESA: Did you sleep well? Have you had something to eat? Annabelle said she’d shown you the pantry? […] You’re sure you won’t have a drink? We definitely had some tea around here somewhere. MARTIN: Uh, I… already had some, thank you, uh! Some of us know how to be polite guests. ARCHIVIST: [SHARPLY] I don’t intend to accept anything offered by Annabelle Cane. […] [FOOTSTEPS] [A DOOR CREAKS OPEN] ANNABELLE: All packed? ARCHIVIST: Mm. MARTIN: Oh! Finally showing your face? ANNABELLE: I’m sure I don’t know what you mean. MARTIN: Oh, pffft! All week, you scuttle around with… with food and drinks and all that other stuff, whatever we need, and just when we need it, but if we actually try to talk to you, you’re gone. ANNABELLE: [SMILINGLY] I’m very busy…! ARCHIVIST: Martin, don’t… bother, we–we’re not going to get any answers out of her. MARTIN: You–you’re joking, right? She’s been lurking at the edges of this whole thing since the beginning, and now we can finally actually talk to her, and…! What, you’re just going to pass? You don’t have any questions, nothing at all?

WHO usually provides food and drinks to get some results with people?

(MAG053) MARTIN: I was just going down to the café, did you want a sandwich? ARCHIVIST: Uh, that, that depends. Are you… hum, are you going to keep hovering around me if I go to the canteen? MARTIN: [SIGH] I just worry. You needed five stitches after you “accidentally” stabbed yourself with a breadknife. If you’re still claiming that’s what happened. ARCHIVIST: I am. MARTIN: Then you’ll forgive me for worrying when you use sharp knives. ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] Fine. I’ll come with, just… give me a second to grab my coat.

(MAG069) MARTIN: … Look. Jon… when was the last time we all just… talked? Just talked, without all of this– ARCHIVIST: Thank you for the tea, Martin. MARTIN: … Oookay. Fine. [DOOR OPENS] He’s not wrong, you know. [DOOR CLOSES]

Annabelle is just doing The Usual Martin Things, and Martin accepted it at first, probably thinking that it could put her into good dispositions to talk, except that tactic is NOT working with her and he’s SO PISSED about it =D Oh, Martin…

I’m super amused at Annabelle having so much fun being domestic and taking care of the guests while looming in the background; it’s an interesting dynamic where you can clearly feel like… everything is happening on her terms, and Martin and Jon don’t have any control over it. (And Martin is SO annoyed at the lack of control, ooooh Martin…)

(- And this is how Web!Martin can still w- (No but, seriously, I thought about how spiders can be territorial and usually don’t share the same living area?))

- I adore how you could HEAR Annabelle’s smile while she was clearly having fun.

(MAG181) MARTIN: Oh! Finally showing your face? ANNABELLE: I’m sure I don’t know what you mean. […] ARCHIVIST: Look. I–it’s no accident we finally meet face-to-face in the one place I–I can’t get any answers out of her. ANNABELLE: [SMUG] I’m sure I don’t know what you mean…! MARTIN: … Why are you here? Mm? What’s your game? ANNABELLE: Perhaps I just value my privacy. MARTIN: Fine, fine! Why did you call me before? ANNABELLE: Perhaps I thought you could use a friendly voice…!

Not committing to any answer, and it was driving Martin mad, uh.

- LOVING HOW MARTIN IS JUST “RESENT AND REMEMBER”:

(MAG166) ANNABELLE: He is more powerful here than he’s ever been, isn’t he? [PAUSE] And you’re not sure what that means for you. MARTIN: [INHALE] I’m hanging up now. ANNABELLE: Does he even need you at all? MARTIN: Bye! [BEEP] [SIGH] [LOUDER, CLOSER HOWL] … I know, right?

(MAG181) ANNABELLE: Perhaps I thought you could use a friendly voice…! MARTIN: “Friendly”!? You told me Jon didn’t need me! ANNABELLE: Objectively true. MARTIN: [AGGRAVATED SIGH]

(Jon was out of it for most of the exchange, but… If he had been in a better state of mind, he might have reacted to this: Martin hadn’t told him about that part of the phone call, Martin hadn’t shared that with him in the following episode. So, that was new information… unless he had already “known” about it from Martin’s mind and didn’t tell Martin?)

And! We! Still! Don’t! Know! What Annabelle! Wanted! To Achieve!

(MAG181) ANNABELLE: And more importantly, perhaps I thought you might need a little bit of righteous indignation to help you power through the next steps. […] For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. The call was… clumsy. There were so many things to keep track of at the moment. I must confess it did lack my usual… nuance. ARCHIVIST: And perhaps you’re now just trying to humanise yourself so we underestimate your next move…! ANNABELLE: Perhaps.

* What was that “righteous indignation” about? At this point, Martin was already pro-smiting. Did she want him to focus on his resentment towards her? Did she want to prompt a conversation between Jon&Martin, as it happened in MAG167, leading to Jon admitting to Martin that he was his “reason”? I still feel like if that exchange hadn’t happened, Martin would have had it way worse in the Lonely house a few episodes later…

* It feels like the “Jon does(n’t) need Martin” might be about two different things? It’s objectively true that Jon would still be fine without Martin… but would he keep going on his quest without him? Jon said that Gertrude likely would have given up (implying that his difference with her is that he had “a reason”, in Martin). And Jon himself had told Martin, that it wasn’t just about what he needed in the “survival” sense; it was… about what he wanted for himself:

(MAG159) ARCHIVIST: Listen – I know you think you want to be here, I know you think it’s safer and w– … well, maybe it is… But we need you. I need you. MARTIN: [DISTANT, VOICE ECHOING] No, you don’t. Not really…! Everyone’s alone, but we all survive. ARCHIVIST: I don’t just want to survive!

- Martin and Being Manipulated~~

(MAG126) MARTIN: But if I could just explain– PETER: And how do you think Jon’s going to react, to that explanation? Hm? Do you think he’ll accept it calmly? Come through with a well-considered, rational response– MARTIN: That’s not fair– PETER: –or would he assume he knows better than you and do something rash? [SILENCE] MARTIN: … I don’t like being manipulated. PETER: That’s fair. But I’m not wrong.

(MAG181) MARTIN: … I, I don’t like being manipulated. ANNABELLE: Then we probably aren’t going to be friends. MARTIN: Urrrgh! [SIGH]

(And both times, about Jon.)

- Jon was exhausted, but also kind of fatalistic over the fact that they couldn’t do anything against Annabelle anyway; had Salesa been right when he had told them they would get used to it? And in a way, Jon being less angsty over it… might be good for him – not spiralling into paranoia, being just aware that anyway, he can’t know anything for sure about Annabelle. (… Or is the feeling of powerlessness feeding her anyway?)

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

GNIIIIIIIIIIIIH over Martin just. Being absolutely too honest and just telling her, to her face, that he doesn’t like her. Martin, you rude brat.

I got Michael flashbacks, too, because it wasn’t the first time that:

(MAG079) MICHAEL: I think I might also kill you. It would be easier than killing the Archivist; none of you are protected down here. MARTIN: No, no, now hang on… MICHAEL: You are going to try and help him. And I want to see what happens without you there. TIM: Martin… MARTIN: No, no, okay, because there’s two of us and there’s one of you, okay. He’s not killing anyone! TIM: Martin, look at his hands! MARTIN: Oh.

MARTIN WAS READY TO THROW DOWN.

- YIKES over what Annabelle has ~in mind~:

(MAG181) ANNABELLE: Don’t worry, Martin. We’ll meet again. Hopefully when you’re feeling a little bit more… open-minded…! MARTIN: I wouldn’t count on it. ANNABELLE: I would. MARTIN: [SIGH] ARCHIVIST: That’s the trouble with old houses, I suppose. Full of spiders. ANNABELLE: You boys better take care of yourselves. I’m sure we’ll see each other again very soon. Here! Why don’t I show you out?

* Was the “open-minded” a reference to the fact that her own head was opened and is currently stitched together thanks to spiders.

* So, they’re meeting again “soon”… at Hill Top Road, maybe?

* Annabelle is implying that they were refusing something about her, as if there was currently an offer on the table – what was it? Was it about the fact they were antagonising her? Jon didn’t trust her (or at least raised the possibility that she could be trying to make them underestimate her; she had explained that “I have always believed that the key to controlling people… is to ensure that they always under, or overestimate you. Never reveal your true abilities or plans” in MAG147), they were wary of her… and were they right about it? She made sure they drank and ate, she encouraged them to be well; she needs them functioning and still going, but what for? I’m still really curious about Annabelle; it felt to me that she needed them to reach a certain conclusion by themselves, and that they have failed so far… Or is it way more sinister than that, is she waiting for them to ask for her help regarding Jon’s current state?

* Overall, it feels to me like she’s focusing on Martin more than Jon, as if Jon was a “given” in her equation but Martin a more active and rebellious piece?

- Ooooh, Salesa… he really was craving for company, uh.

(MAG181) SALESA: Aaah! You are off, then? [FAINT SOUNDS OF MUSIC IN THE BACKGROUND; LUDWIG VAN BEETHOVEN’S “9TH SYMPHONY: FINALE”] ARCHIVIST: … Yes, uh… MARTIN: Uh, thank you, for all your hospitality. SALESA: You are sure you won’t stay a little longer? You’re more than welcome! ARCHIVIST: N–no, I, uh… I got to, hum… leave. MARTIN: What he said. SALESA: Ah, such a shame. And you’re sure I can’t give you a little something for the road? Uh, food, wine? MARTIN: Uh, no, thank you. Uh… [SIGH] Nice things, they… tend not to stay nice out there. SALESA: [SCOFF] True enough.

And sob about the fact that Martin has learned to not trust “comfort” too much. (What about the tea he had stored in his own bag? And the bandages he used on Jon didn’t turn against them either, so a few things stayed safe.)

- I love how Annabelle and Salesa seem to be getting along with their cruel humour:

(MAG181) SALESA: Well: best of luck I suppose. And if in the end, you can’t save the world… you know where I am. ANNABELLE: Actually, he doesn’t. SALESA: [CHUCKLES] Of course. What a shame. [INHALE] Well then, I guess it really is goodbye. Travel well. Don’t be Strangers! [MORE CHUCKLES, LOWER AND DARKER]

(SOB, Salesa, “Don’t be strangers” had been copyrighted by Georgie in season 3 already!)

… Really curious that Annabelle seemed to already know that Jon would quickly forget about the place, as soon as they would leave; in the same way that she predicted that they might pass out when entering the domain protected by the camera. She… knows… stuff… and understands how things work, uh…

- Cries about Jon just fading from conversation, it REALLY was time for him to leave:

(MAG181) ARCHIVIST: Yes, I–I–I’ve been, hum… Uh, these last few days I–I’ve been… getting weaker. Dizzy spells, vagueness, you’ve seen it. Being cut off from the Eye, i–it’s not good for me. […] MARTIN: You don’t have any questions, nothing at all? … Jon? Jon! [CLICKS HIS FINGERS IN FRONT OF THE ARCHIVIST] ARCHIVIST: [DISTANT] Wha… Oh, yes, uh, sorry… Look. […] MARTIN: God, fi–fine. Fine! [BAG IS GRABBED] Come on, Jon. ARCHIVIST: [VAGUE] Mm… Oh, I’m… sorry, what? MARTIN: We’re leaving. […] SALESA: You are sure you won’t stay a little longer? You’re more than welcome! ARCHIVIST: N–no, I, uh… I got to, hum… leave. MARTIN: What he said. […] Y–yeah, uh, come on, Jon. Let’s go. ARCHIVIST: Mm, what? Oh. Yes, ri–right. Yes…

Jon prompted their departure, but it sounded like he forgot about it multiples times during the conversation… He was absolutely drained and ready to collapse, uh?

(Or is it linked to his other memory losses, such as forgetting his bully’s name, or that he had gone for ice-cream with the assistants for Martin’s birthday? I think it really was exhaustion in this particular case (head empty), but…)

- … Jon’s sense of humour…

(MAG181) MARTIN: Feeling better? ARCHIVIST: Uh… Yeah. I’m afraid I am…!

“Afraid I am” – said he, who is currently back to feeding on fear.

- I’m glad that Jon apologised for making them leave, was aware of what Martin had to give up for him, but also that Martin was clear about his Priorities (and differences from Salesa, who was satisfied being protected and safe in his “little bubble” while others are suffering) and absolutely not holding it against him:

(MAG181) ARCHIVIST: I’m sorry, I… It would have been nice to stay. MARTIN: [WISTFULLY] Yeah… I’d almost forgotten what it was like, you know? A bit of peace, eh! ARCHIVIST: I mean, you could have… MARTIN: No, don’t say it, Jon. You know I never would. I–I can’t just “forget” about all the people out here! Besides, I’d rather be trapped in a post-apocalyptic wasteland with you than spend one more moment in paradise with her. ARCHIVIST: [FAINT CHUCKLES] That might just be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me!

… But it also makes me worry about the alternatives Martin didn’t mention: what about “spending time in paradise without her nor you”, or “going back to the normal world without you”…

- I personally interpreted the last scene as the camera taking back the memories with it, since it was supposed to protect itself and the perimeter around it from The Eye, and Jon knowing/remembering about it would mean giving Beholding access to it:

(MAG181) [STATIC RISES] ARCHIVIST: Ah… Pity. MARTIN: What? ARCHIVIST: It’s, uh… It’s going away. That… peace; the, the safety, the memory of ignorance… MARTIN: That’s… [INHALE] Yeah, I guess that makes sense. [STATIC FADES] Do you… remember any of it? Wha–what Salesa said? Annabelle? ARCHIVIST: Some. I–I think. It’s, uh… Do you mind filling me in? MARTIN: Wait, you need me to tell you something for once? ARCHIVIST: I guess so! It’s, uh… It’s gone. Like a dream. … What was it like? MARTIN: … [SIGH] Nice. It was… It was really nice.

(“Ignorance” both as willingly ignoring something you’re aware of, and not knowing what’s happening out there…)

But CRIES about the tinge of nostalgia, at the fact that Jon had been so hopeful during MAG180 while discovering this place (… and was now walking out of it with mixed feelings), and the fact that… these nice memories are stored within Martin, and Martin only.

… And the tape which recorded Salesa’s statement.

- WHAT ARE THE TAPE RECORDERS…

(MAG181) SALESA: Hmmm. [SHUFFLING] Interesting… […] Now tell me, do you know why there’s a tape recorder here? I noticed it just now, but I don’t believe I actually own one. ARCHIVIST: … Uh… Not really. MARTIN: They sort of just … follow us round? SALESA: Hmmmm. Interesting. Did you carry it in? Things shouldn’t be able to manifest in here like that. ARCHIVIST: … You had one in your… bag, I–I think, Martin, did, did you drop it here? MARTIN: Uh… I, I don’t think so…! SALESA: … Very well. In that case, we shall leave it to be. It’s hardly valuable, and it’s probably best not to upset whatever it might be involved with. Besides! I have no secrets to hide. […] Anyway, no more stories, I think. Let us relax, and talk, and drink, and… not worry about who might be… listening.

Jon had already told Tim back in MAG114, but the fact that this place was an anti-Eye zone kinda confirms they’re not Beholding? But outside of that…

* It’s interesting that Jon immediately asked Martin if it was his. Did Jon have his own in his pocket and could tell it wasn’t his? When did Martin acquire one: was it the one drifting alongside him in the water (or not water), in MAG163? Or was the one in MAG170 different?

* We’ve seen with the mention of the Corruption creature that people can go inside of Salesa’s property. We’ve seen that Jon was cut off from Beholding, but what about other powers? Jon was still fearful of Annabelle – so The Web could still be active inside of it? Is the recorder Web, another power?

- Why did Annabelle want them there? Was it for them to learn about the camera, to use later? To close the Salesa chapter? To give them some respite, for funsies? To introduce herself properly while in control of the situation, where Jon couldn’t compel her? To make them lose time because something was happening outside?

- It’s getting clearer and clearer that there are maaaany holes in Jon’s pseudo-omniscience: he’s unable to see inside of the Panopticon. He can’t see the future. He can’t know about The Web’s plans due to it being too fragmented and complex. He doesn’t know about Melanie&Georgie. He couldn’t know about Salesa’s “little oasis” since it was safe from The Eye.

What else is he missing from the big picture?

- So now, what’s coming next?

* If it was indeed Upton House, they’re getting pretty close to London, and with a slight detour, Oxford (and Hill Top Road) could be on their way; given how Annabelle told them they would meet again “very soon”, they might revisit the house… well, Martin would be visiting it for the first time. It was already weird before the apocalypse; how is it as a place, now?

* We still haven’t seen Georgie&Melanie, so they could be coming soon, unless Jon is reuniting with them in MAG189, right before the hiatus, in the same way as they managed to trap Basira in MAG176 as the ending to Act I… (And as usual, where are they? Unlike Annabelle, Jon had been able to hypothesise that they could be in London (MAG164: “Hm! I’m… I’m not… sure, I–I can’t really see Melanie o–or–or Georgie. […] 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. L–London, maybe?”). Are they in the Institute? Behind Helen’s door? Protected because Melanie cut her connection to The Eye and Georgie can’t feel fear, putting them off Beholding’s radar?)

* Basira was supposed to meet them again at the Institute; given that Martin&Jon stayed at Salesa’s for a while, I wonder if she’s ahead of them, now…?

* Last time we saw Helen was in MAG177, and we know that she was usually spying on them…Was she able to materialise her Door into Salesa’s house, or not even? I’m guessing she could be popping up soon, if she couldn’t get her hands on Jon&Martin for a while… (Oh no: given how she liked to casually torment them, she probably witnessed Daisy’s death and bring that topic back on the table just for funsies…)

I’m a broken record, but wow, MAG182’s title is concerning (WHEN IT SHOULDN’T BE…). Spiral (and Helen), Corruption or Lonely stuff? And with the second meaning, a discussion about Jon’s status in the apocalypse? (I’m also thinking about The Admiral ;_;)

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