#listen to me explain how aspects work in my mysterious accent

[oooocleo]

ok im feeling brave. im listening to a random guy on yt explain blades in the dark rules so if he can do it i can too... here are my FATE rules explanation vids!

i think they're most helpful as a kind of lecture to listen to while also going through the rulebook, but i do give a bunch of examples for the subjects im talking about in the vids themselves🫡 and FATE is pretty simple imo!

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[peculiarpatches]

𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘥𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 - 𝘫𝘢𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳 𝘹 𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘹 𝑓𝑒𝑚 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

I’m republishing this since it hardly got notes the last time and I’m ~ crazy ~ and need validation that my stories are good. Out of all the Twilight ones I’ve been working on, this still is one of my favorite’s because it’s the first one I’ve ever written. It’s the first one that got me inspired to write for the other characters, too. So, as much as I love this one, I hope you love it, too.

A/N: This story includes smut. If this makes you uncomfortable, don’t read. Simple as that. 

 There’s not much other than oral and dirty talk, however. Either way, I hope you enjoy.

Centuries — that's how long Alice and Jasper have been together for.  The two were simply inseparable; Stuck to each other like glue. It'd take millions of weapons  and hundreds of people to try and tear them apart, no matter what happened or what went on in their crazy, immortal lives, it didn't matter, no, because they lived for each other. 

Their lives were better, happier, because of that other person.  

And nothing - nor, nobody - was ever going to change the fact.   Jasper wasn't one to express his feelings (though, he could control other people's emotions,  ironically enough) but that small grin you  see every now and then across his face  was all thanks to Alice.

 The smile belonged to her because she was the one that brought peace, happiness, and love back into his life, even when he swore he'd never find it. Hell, he swore he'd never find any of those listed off again, if he was being honest here. But... she somehow did it. She brought all of those into his life along with hope and faith.  (Alice told him that very saying too upon their first encounter  together - the moment she took his hand with her own, she felt hope. And she hadn't felt that in centuries. He never met the gal before, not having a single clue as to who she was. Here he was, sitting in a  diner in  Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, trying to figure out where he planned to go afterwards, where his next stop would be within the states when an attractive woman walked up to him, letting a happy, relieved sigh fall from her lips. "It's about time." She announced, the grin growing across her face as she slid in the opposite side of the booth, guiding her hand out to take Jasper's hand within her much smaller one. She gave his fingers a squeeze and explained the situation, the happiness on her face only growing wider and brighter as she continued to talk. Jasper was  confused, to say the very least;  But her emotions overwhelmed him so much, in his gut and in his heart, he felt as if he could trust her, right then and there. 

Even if they have only have met that day, she spoke about the future and to others, they would have laughed and called her crazy. But the way she spoke, so open, so generous, loving and kind, all these feelings directed towards him, he felt it, too - love. Love at first sight, if you will. And Jasper had ever only felt that once and it lasted briefly.  But this time, as he continued to listen to her speak,  a tiny grin found it's way across his lips. In-love, he was. As absurd, and as crazy as it may sound, he could feel it. They belonged together. And the gal - Alice - was exactly like him, too. Of course, she would be, having a power like that and all.  Alice saw them in the future, had seen Jasper plenty of times in her mind but didn't know exactly when she'd be meeting him.  She admitted today, however, she knew.  Jasper even said he felt something today, too. He just didn't exactly know what it was. But he felt it. The emotions were difficult to ignore. He laughed and leaned close, whispering to Alice he assumed these feelings he felt within him were nothing but hunger. "You won't have to worry about that, either." She told him. "I know a way of keeping not only you safe but me, as well. To keep your hunger satisfied without harming or needing to hunt humans." Alice continued. Jasper cocks his head to the side, confusion written across his facial features, as he wondered what she meant by this. Instead of asking, as he figured he'd understand more of the situation later, he chuckled and gave her hand a squeeze which she happily returned. "Well, now you have me and I promise you, I won't ever let a pretty gal like you go, either." He said, making the smile on her face somewhat bigger than what it was before. "I wouldn't let you lose me, anyways." She responded. "Besides, I see the future here, don't I? None of that will be happening. You're stuck with me, Jasper." Jasper laughed gently, "I'm more than perfectly fine w'tha, darlin'." He commented, his accent  drawing out as he spoke.)   (Love - Jasper never wanted to look for it. Never sat down and thought about having a significant other.   He assumed he'd be alone, forever. And as dull and as depressing as that may be, he was content with it. Who could love someone as broken and as damaged as he? His past was fucked up. Surely, his future was going to remain the exact same, too. So, to Jasper, he figured it'd be best to be alone. He didn't want to put his baggage onto another person for them to carry and haul out. He'd do it himself, without a doubt or without a care in the world; he'd drag his own baggage behind him.

 Not once, did he ever think or want to allow people to see what secrets he held within the case, within himself.  But, life is amusing and love has a funny way of revealing itself. Though, so secretive and mysterious, hardly ever speaking a word to strangers, let alone any other vampires, a girl who saw the future and saw him in it, already knew all the secrets he kept hidden away from the world. 

Alice knew what Jasper's past was like. And she still accepted him. Still loved him. "If you're broken, you don't have to stay broken." She said, that same very night. "I won't let you be, neither. We'll fix each other's broken, shattered pieces, we'll place them right back together. Fit the two of them together like puzzle pieces. 'Cause, I believe that's what you are to me. You are the piece of the puzzle I've been searching to find. Been waiting centuries to come across.  And now that I finally found you, I have hope and faith once more - that everything is okay. And I hope that you believe me, too, when I say these words but; I love you, Jasper.. and again," she joked, a goofy grin playing out on her cheeks, "I see the future and therefore, I know you believe me, too. I also know you love me as well." 

And Jasper said nothing. He only chuckled deeply and nodded. He met her then and there, not once meeting her elsewhere before but  he loved her, too. And he didn't need to say those three words out loud because she already knew how much she meant to him.) (His future was brighter, better, because of Alice. And he couldn't thank her enough for showing him that life was better when you found that special someone by your side.  He found both - happiness and hope - within not only her but the Cullen family. Alice along with a man named Carlisle, even helped Jasper with his hunger and taught him how to remain strong and fight his urges.

 As Alice mentioned beforehand, back at the diner, she was going to help him. And she did. Not once did she ever break her promise to him.) However, that's when everything falls back onto him. When everything starts breaking. Decades. Centuries. Years and years together. It was bound to happen, eventually, right? Boredom. Falling out of love. Finding someone better to fulfill her needs and satisfy her. You get the idea. Jasper was afraid that Alice would announce she no longer loved Jasper, for whatever reason that may be, he didn't know. But he was going to find out today.  *~* Even if he hadn't been watching Alice,  it wouldn't and didn't matter because he could feel her emotions with as much as a second glance and a look in her direction, an overwhelming sensation would flood over him instantly. So, even if he wasn't watching her, he could feel everything she was attempting (but failing) to hide.    The typical, loving and affectionate gaze she would always give him was no longer there.  If it was, it  lasted a millisecond before she'd drop her head, strands of hair falling in front of her face and a frown would replace the look.  Of course, this was not only concerning but worrisome for Jasper. Had he done something wrong? 

If so, what did he do? What could he do to fix it? He didn't want to sound like Edward before he met Bella — dull and depressing and nothing but those but it's exactly how he felt and he hated every aspect of that. 

He and the rest of the Cullen’s made fun of Edward for being so gloom and grey but now, alas, here Jasper was, feeling that exact way. 

Oh, how the tables have turned.  Even Edward, the petty little shit he always was and will forever be, even made a joke about it.  Luckily, he had Bella beside him so Jasper couldn't abuse Edward's emotions and make him feel what he was feeling because she could put up a shield and block it out, protecting Edward.  "Just go and talk to her." Edward said once he saw the look on Jasper's face.

  "Trust me, I'm the mind reader out of all of us here. I know what I'm talking about and I know what's going on. And no, before you ask, I will not give you the answer as to what exactly is going on. You just have to go and find out yourself." He said, tilting his head back as laughter left his lips. 

 Bella scoffed and gave a playful hit to her husband's shoulders before giving Jasper an apologetic smile. The two then had left, going to go and find their daughter, leaving Jasper all alone with his thoughts and worse of all - his feelings.  Taking a deep, shaky breath, Jasper decides it's now or never.  He creeps up the stairs, and the closer he gets to his and Alice's room, he hears her angelic laughter and can practically see her, smiling from ear to ear as the giggles erupted her and hung into the air. Jasper loved her laughter, loved seeing her smile even more. 

He just hated the fact he wasn't the one who was the meaning behind it. If not him, who was?  "Darlin'?" He walks in front of the bedroom door, giving a gentle tap across the frame of it. He rocks back and forth on the heels of his feet as he anxiously waited for an answer. The loud laughter he once heard died down quickly which makes him feel even more anxious. 

Biting his lip, he shuffles and rocks his body back and forth as he still continued to wait until the door was to be answered, not wanting to walk in and upset Alice more by invading her privacy. 

The laughter is replaced now, however, with faint giggles and muffled, hushed whispers. He hears some shuffling and the bed squeaking before finally, Alice is pulling the door open. She stands there, giving Jasper a sheepish, yet shy smile. "Hi, baby." She cooed, leaning up on her tippy toes as she plants a gentle yet adoring kiss on Jasper's cheek.  This took him by surprise because not only did she call him 'baby' but she kissed him and it felt like she hadn't kissed him in years. So, this being said, it brought a smile to his lips. 

 Her upcoming sentence  brought the sides of his lips upward even more, the grin growing and his nerves and anxiety, slowly, dying out.  "You know, I've been expecting you. Wondered when you'd come up here." She said as her feet came back to touch the floor. Alice reaches over, taking Jasper's hand within her own and walks into their bedroom, closing the door behind them as Jasper walks in.  There, on the bed, was another female. She glanced up and smiled shyly, the same way Alice did when Jasper knocked at the door and she saw him behind the frame of it. 

 "Jasper, you remember (Y/N), right?" She asked, dropping his hand as she makes way to the queen sized mattress and makes herself comfortable on the bed, next to (Y/N). (Y/N) (L/N). They've only met a few times and even then, it seemed so long ago, Jasper had to rethink of when and where they met at.   The graduation party they held and then Bella and Edward's wedding. 

Of course, he remembers now.  Jasper and Alice both would even bump into her while taking a stroll into town every once in awhile and in high school, they shared a few classes together.   ("You two enjoy walks in the rain too?" She had gushed, laughing as she held the umbrella above her head, trying her best to ignore and dodge the rain that fell from the sky above them. Alice and Jasper looked at each other and Alice giggled and nodded. 

"Yes. It's our favorite thing to do. One of our favorite things to do... Would you like to walk with us?" She asked. (Y/N)'s face bled a crimson red and she shook her head before mumbling about how sadly, she couldn't, though she wishes she could. She had to go back to work. She was only walking to grab a quick bite to eat, one that wasn't at the place she worked at. 

"Next time then." Alice said, the smile never dropping from her face. "Of course." (Y/N) replied before waving goodbye to the both of them and walking in the opposite direction.)  Now, coming face to face with her, after a few years of not seeing her, he wouldn't deny the obvious fact; (Y/N) was as beautiful as Alice.   Alice, though, she wasn't the jealous type, he'd never admit that or say it.  Jasper preferred to keep that thought to himself. (Y/N) was human. Jasper remembered. His smile was quick to fall down into a frown as he looked at Alice, wondering why she brought a human into their home. 

She, so easily, could expose our secret too! He thought, the frown only increasing and getting deeper as he furrowed his eyebrows together, trying to come up with an answer as to why she could be here.  And right as that thought popped into his head, Alice gave a nervous giggle and shook her head from side to side. "I'm no mind reader like Edward is but I know what you're thinking, Jas. Come, sit down with us. We've got to talk." And as confused as he may be, - especially with what she just said in front of a human, no less -  Jasper obliges and sits in the middle of them both, the mattress sinking beneath his weight. "What's going on?" He asks,  crossing his arms over his chest as a mixture of emotions paint itself across his face.   Alice, taking a long and deep breath, begins to speak. "Jasper," She began, "It's obvious I haven't been myself lately. I know you've been noticing it. Everybody has, I'm sure."  "Yes," He replied, chuckling lowly as he chewed on his bottom lip, still not piecing two and two together.  "I'm very aware of that, doll."  "Well, I don't know how else to tell you this but that reason is because of (Y/N)."   Once the sentence leaves her, Alice reached over and grabbed (Y/N)'s hand, squeezing it tightly.  Jasper blinked. Once, twice. He didn't understand. Alice and (Y/N) both looked at each other once they took notice of his expression and they erupted into a storm of giggles. 

Almost as soon as it started, however, they stopped and their expressions were quick to change. They went from laughing to a deadpanned glare, both girls wearing masks of seriousness.  "I've been having visions. Of this exquisite, gorgeous and oh, so wonderful girl. And, well, Jasper, some of us don't just have one love but we have two. Maybe even more... but in this situation, in this scenario, it's you two." She explained.  Jasper went from watching his girlfriend to giving a quick glance to (Y/N)'s direction. 

She sat there, silent, but her cheeks spoke another story. One of which, Jasper easily could read and make out.  Her cheeks, like the day they bumped into each other in town, were as red as a rose and she was biting her lower lip as she fumbled with her hands, twisting and twiddling with them as Alice continued to speak.  "I know you feel the same way about her as well. Don't even try to lie or deny it. I've been seeing the visuals everywhere, they play out like scenes in a movie. The feelings for her are the same you have for me. You gained them at the party we had a few months back, the same way I did." And Jasper sat there, feeling dumbfounded but more importantly, he felt foolish too. Of course, he couldn't get away with his thoughts or actions. Alice could see everything. Even before it happened. "That's why I've been distancing myself." Alice continued. "I didn't mean to, my love. It has nothing to do with you, either. You're as perfect as you were when I first met you. So, do not fret and think you have done something wrong because you haven't. However, I had to have you come to me before I could tell you what was going on and why I was acting the way I was. Or... well, come to us, I should say... So, we could show you how this all would work. Us, three, together." Alice's tongue darted out of her mouth as she wets her lips, a look of seduction rising behind her eyes.  "Besides, isn't it every man's fantasy to have two, beautiful women beside  him?" "Or, perhaps underneath him?" And that was the first thing (Y/N) had said during this entire conversation. Jasper would be a liar if he said  both women's words didn't go  straight to his cock, causing it to twitch against the zipper of the pants he wore.  "Come on, Jasper. Admit it. Don't lie to yourself. You've been wanting her for some time, yes? Wanting - no, craving for this for awhile. Now, is your chance. Today and every day, you can have us." Alice purred. She leaned upward, standing up on the tips of her toes as she had done earlier and her tongue comes within contact of Jasper's neck, setting soft but wet and seductive kisses over the smooth, cold surface.  Jasper grunts in reply, eyes fluttering shut as he gives a weak, timid nod. "Hm," He mumbles. "Today and everyday?" He asked, a smirk finding its way on his lips. "I can live with that, darlin'." "Heyyy." (Y/N) mewled, her bottom lip jutting out into a pout. "If she's darlin', what's going to be my pet name?" She asks, the pout only growing bigger yet both Alice and Jasper knew she wasn't truly upset by it. "Considering you just mewled like a kitten, that's what you will be. Now, kitten, why don't you and darlin' both come here and show me a good time, hm? After all, I have been wanting this for some time." Alice tssked, slapping Jasper's chest playfully as he - finally - admitted those words.  (Y/N) said nothing but watched the two with love and fond written across her face.  How did she get so lucky to be involved in this relationship?  She'd never know. Maybe, some things are better unanswered, (Y/N) thought.  She's quick to snap out of her thoughts and standing to her feet, her eyes never leave her now boyfriend and girlfriend's gazes.  (Y/N) strips down to nothing but a matching pair of panties and bra. She watches how Alice and Jasper lazily yet hungrily kiss one another.  Jasper's hands were on Alice's waist while Alice's hands were tangled in between his golden curls, tugging it every now and then as the session grew hotter and as the two grew more sexually frustrated with each other. 

(Y/N) didn't know what to do, truth be told, she didn't think this would have ever happened.  Luckily for her, Alice pulled away and shot her a lovingly glance before their own make out session could get any hotter (and before (Y/N) could get wetter, untouched). 

"C'mere, beautiful.  You're part of this, too, silly." She giggled as she taps Jasper's shoulder, telling him to get off of her with a movement of her finger.  Jasper chuckled lowly as he rolls over, undoing the belt of his jeans and zips them down as he shimmies out of both that and his shirt. "Who would you like to pleasure and please first, lovely?" Alice asked once (Y/N) sat down on the bed. Her face was still the same exact shade of red, it never seemed to vanish or go elsewhere. It seemed to be permanently there, only growing deeper and darker by the second. Both Alice and Jasper loved it. Loved having this kind of power and effect on her. It was a turn on to both vampires.  "Personally, I think you should  pleasure Jasper first." Alice turns to face Jasper who lay beside her  wearing his birthday suit, stroking his cock, eyes fluttered shut as complete bliss and satisfaction takes over. "For me, however, I am enjoying myself. I would very much rather see you two, touching." He said, opening his eyes as he glanced over at Alice and (Y/N).  "I'm happy with that." Alice giggled  as she's quick to lay upon the mountain of pillows behind her,  stripping her shirt over her head and allowing it to fall down the floor.  Oh, she's so filthy.... such an eager slut. She truly has been wanting this for some time. God only knows how long...  He says this - well, thinks it, anyhow - because the woman didn't wear a bra underneath her shirt and the moment she slides out of her skirt, Jasper notices she wasn't wearing panties either. "Touch me, please, (Y/N)." Alice moaned. She  lay back against the cushions as she spread her legs out in a starfish position, her hand resting at Jasper's thigh, fingers sneaking up and curling at his genitals, softly brushing her fingertips across his groin. Her pussy was slick with juices, (Y/N) and Jasper noticed. She was already so drenched, as was (Y/N).  Jasper's cock twitched, knowing both women were as hot and as bothered as he. "Go on, kitten. Don't be scared. I give you permission. We both do. From this moment on, you can touch us and hold us and whatever you please-" "Cause you're ours, as we are yours." Alice finished, shooting Jasper a smile before returning said smile to (Y/N). (Y/N) chewed on her bottom lip, fluttering her lashes and lids shut, she bends forward and presses her mouth on Alice's core, earning a quiet, low whine proceeding to fall from Alice's lips above. "Oh, (Y/N).... please." Alice whimpers, bucking her hips against (Y/N)'s touch. (Y/N) craved nothing more than to please both Alice and Jasper. As of this moment, however, her main focus was pleasuring Alice. All the girl wanted to do was get Alice  to cum, no matter which way it was. (Y/N) could use her fingers, her tongue or Hell, even both, she (nor Alice) didn't care as long as the short haired gal came with a cry of her name and soaked her fingers as she reached her orgasm. That is all (Y/N) wanted. She wanted to be good - be a good girl, for both significant others. Realizing both vampires were hers to love, to hold and to cherish, really just everything in between,  it sent a chill throughout her entire body and caused her cunt to tingle at the realization. The air in the room was bitter and both Alice and Jasper were cold, too. So, really, that could play a huge part together as well.  But (Y/N) knew her cunt was throbbing because of knowing they were hers, as she was theirs. Not because of their icy touches or the harsh, bitter air but because of them. They, all three of them, were together and happy. And just like when Alice found Jasper and him, finding her, (Y/N) really didn't know what happiness was until she met these two. "(Y/N), babygirl, please..." Alice's frustrated voice brings the girl back into reality, allowing her to leave her thoughts. She giggled, sending  little waves of vibrations to  shake against Alice's clit.  She pulled back, much to Alice's disappointment. "Sorry, I got lost in my head. 'M just happy is all. Can't believe this is happening." She admitted. But before Alice or Jasper could answer, (Y/N) is bending back forward, letting her head fall down and her lips capturing Alice's clit once more.   She gave Alice a few kitten licks, gentle, soft and sweet ones before slipping her tongue  in between Alice's folds, licking away as if this was her last thing she was to do on Earth. And really - if they were to die in their sleep or some random meteor hit, (Y/N)  would much  prefer dying while she's buried between Alice's legs and  her mouth would be full of Alice's pussy, her mouth full of her juices as Alice rode her high out on her face. It sounds like a perfect way to go, if she were being honest. Well, that was one option. The other idea and preference was with Alice riding her face, shifting her weight back and forth, grinding her pussy against (Y/N)'s tongue and lips while (Y/N) laid back against the bed, her legs spread in a "V" shape as Jasper slid his cock back and forth, deep inside her pussy, hitting her spot over and over again. All three of them, moaning in perfect harmony. Alice would cum over and over again, nearly drowning (Y/N)'s face  (which, (Y/N) wouldn't be upset at) with her juices as Jasper shot his load deep within her walls, filling her up with his cum. That was also a fantastic way to die. Alice, above, giggled and squirmed as (Y/N) ate her out. "Don't worry." She murmured, hand coming down to intertwine with (Y/N)'s hair as she pulled her girlfriend closer to her womanhood. "You'll have a piece of Jasper, right here, right now. Isn't that right, baby? You want to be a dear and go up behind (Y/N) as she's eating me out and fuck her tight, little, pink pussy? I can tell she needs it. Can feel her, leaving a puddle by my feet. Think - ah, fuck... (Y/N) - think she needs it. I wanna see it, too. Want to see you, fucking her as her face is full of my cunt." Jasper groaned as he fisted his cock, listening to his girlfriend speak while watching his other girl, eating his other lover out. He could have came right then and there. He was quick to get up and walk up behind (Y/N). (Y/N) was, in fact, soaked. Which was a given. It was obvious, even someone without vision could see that just by the high pitched, muffled noises she was making in the back of her throat. You could tell the poor thing needed a cock stuffed deep inside her hole, stretching her out and all. "Jasper, please, just... fuck me already!" She cried. "More than happy to." He replied. Being the fact she was so wet and aroused, the head of his cock pushed inside her, slipping in easily and comfortably. Even though, Jasper isn't (Y/N)'s first, the girl still needed to adjust to his size and the stretch that was his large and thick cock. Out of all the men she has been with (which wasn't a lot, neither. Only four or five.) Jasper was the widest and fullest. Jasper pauses, letting her adjust for a moment or two and it’s only when he hears a faint, "Go ahead, move... You can move," does Jasper push deeper, his cock sliding deeper within her walls, her juices already sticking to his cock as he slowly rocks his hips back and forth against the human. go ahead from you that he pushes deeper. You do open remarkably well for him, and although he takes his time, he’s awed by the fact that it isn’t unbearably long for either of you. You wonder if maybe it’s the fact that it’s him and you’ve done this before that makes it less stressful for you and lets you relax enough and so relatively quickly, too. While Jasper is behind, (Y/N) is stuffing her face full of Alice's pussy, and not a second later, the human girl buries her index and forefinger into her awaiting cunt. "Oh, fuck! Yes! Oh, yes. Oh." Alice chanted, her voice growing higher and higher as her hands curled at the comforter, nails digging into the fabric. "Oh, (Y/N), fuck me just like that! Fuck me, (Y/N)! Fuck me with your fingers, oh, yes. Oh, yesyesyesyes!!!" Alice squeals in delight, eyes closed as she gets closer to her orgasm. "Look at that," Jasper purred, his accent thick as he spoke. He only got like that when he, himself, was close to an orgasm. 

"My girls. My two beautiful girls. You both going to cum? You want to cum for each other and for me, don't you? Go on then. Be my good girls and cum. I'll cum with you." And just like that, both (Y/N) and Alice moaned loudly, Alice shouting her girlfriend and boyfriend's name in a pattern-like style as Jasper growled, fucking into (Y/N) so roughly the frame of the bed smacked against the wall so harshly, all three  knew it was going to leave a dent in the walls. But they couldn't care less. They were enjoying themselves way too much. (Y/N)'s moans were muffled, as she was being drowned by Alice's cum and like the good girl she, oh so badly, wanted to be - she happily swallowed every last drop that Alice squirted at her. (Y/N wanted to make her cum, sure, but didn't even think about the possibility she could make her squirt.)  

"Oh, fuck~ I'm cumming. Oh, fuck....!" And right as she was done, licking up every drop of Alice's pussy juices, her own pussy is being filled up by Jasper. This causes (Y/N) to moan again, an ear piercing scream more than a moan, actually. Which, truth be told, she was embarrassed by it - knowing other people were in the house but she tried not to think about it. All she could actually focus on was Alice and Jasper. That, and her coming down from her peak. Slowly, with a hiss leaving his lips, Jasper pulls out and plops down onto the bed, next to both of his lovely women. "That was fun." Alice said, leaning over and pressing a kiss to Jasper's cheek.  "So, you aren't mad at me?" She asked, pulling back as she reached over to pull (Y/N) into her arms. 

"Not at all, darlin'. I love you. You know that. Nothing in the world could ever replace or erase my feelings towards you, Alice. It was... unexpected, sure, but I'm happy." Jasper looked over at Alice and (Y/N). "I'm happy with the both of you. And, (Y/N)? I love you, too. I promise, I didn't forget about ya." He said with a low laugh. He kisses Alice first before bending forward and kissing (Y/N) sweetly. "I only have one question left... how does she know about us? About what we are?" "It's kind of obvious." (Y/N) replied, looking up from playing with Alice's fingers and shot Jasper a sheepish smile. "Like Bella did beforehand, I put everything together and it made a lot of sense the more and more I looked at it. That and Emmett told me. Well, I take that back... he didn't exactly tell me but I knew something was odd when I saw you lot at the cafeteria and saw him, carrying a random plastic baggie of eggs. It isn't the most human thing in the world to eat like that. 

Especially with them, being spoiled and rotten, which they were, by the way. You all tried to be secretive and hide who you were but.. you didn't do it exactly well. And again, I did what Bella did. I straight up asked her too if you guys were what I thought you were.  And having known Bella since we were kids, I could tell when she was telling the truth and when she was lying." (Y/N) took a deep breath before continuing. "Plus, I knew things were, uh... supernatural, I guess is the right word here.... anyways, it was when Bella drastically changed. Not only in personality but in everything else. So, I just... kind of figured it out and placed everything together. And like I said, Emmett and Bella practically told me." "Edward truly married a girl who made an oath to keep us and what we are a secret yet easily announced what we are to an old and dear friend... No offense, (Y/N)." "None taken." "I still say I should've snapped her neck at her birthday party then." "Jasper!" "Wait, you tried to do what?" "Anyways, all that matters is we have each other and there isn't any secrets between us." He said, quick to change the subject. "I love you, gals." Speechless and flabbergasted, (Y/N) says she loved him too, Alice following along. Sure, they were vampires and they could easily kill her at any given moment but (Y/N) trusted them. Not only them but the Cullen's as well. (Although, Jasper and Alice, of course, were her favorites out of the bunch.) (Y/N) was now happily part of the Cullen's and was dating the two most wonderful people in the  world and she couldn't want it any other way. (Of course... she did want to be like them. But that's a conversation for another day.) (Little did (Y/N) know, however, Alice already had seen the both of them - her and Jasper - taking turns and turning her into one of them. For obvious reasons, she never brought this up, though. Alice was just happy to know in the end, they'd all be together, forever.)

[border-spam]

Leech Lord : Jak-Knife

JK belongs to / is written by / designed by @godkingsanointed​

“That Bandit’s a ghostwalker, my God-King. You don’t want ‘em here, trust me. Sometimes dead clans leave corpses behind that aren’t straight in the head enough to know that’s what they are... Crawl across the plains looking for somewhere else to belong, looking for a new family clan ‘cause all that’s left of theirs are Rakk picked bones. Seen plenty over the years, and they trail bad luck behind ‘em like a disease. That one’s marked like a Hellion, those got slag-burned into the ground by Atlas back in Old Haven. Your majesties weren’t here when that happened, but we were, and I remember. Leave them to me, the scout teams always need fresh meat for replacements.

They won’t stay alive long enough to be a concern.”

- Mouthpiece

Whether death follows JK or they sprint after it in pursuit is something they’ve never really been sure of. It could be either - some great predator snapping at their heels while they grew up in a Bandit clan that wasn’t kind to the small and gentle, or a force they are drawn to effortlessly like the migratory animals that follow Pandora’s monsoon seasons.

Could be either.

Could be both.

Same outcome they figure, so why would it matter.

They'd been a kid when it happened, well, a kid to anyone not a Bandit. In that life 16 years old is more than enough to run with a raid party, adult enough to work yourself to the bone, to show you can earn your keep when your brother is "useless" and you've got to be worth 2 bellies of food or watch as one of you goes hungry. Jak-Knife and Gutpunch, one a runt squinting up from under a stolen warrior's mask crafted for someone twice their size, the other a gentle giant born into a life that no aspect of their soul suited. They'd protected him, them with their little body and dull pocketknife versus the sometimes cruelty of a clan who's survival was based around only the fittest, only the strong staying part of it.

Not evil, just living as was needed. Pandora is harsh, there is no room for softness if you want to stay alive on her rocky flats, that's just the way things are. Nature isn't cruel, it simply is.

They were 16 when the Lance came.

16 years they'd lasted in the Hellions, till the day the gates of Old Haven had been opened for the Crimson Lance's money carriers. They'd done their job, they'd cleared the town at the request of the white Siren, been promised a home for the clan, a place to belong, and in the end, their payment came in bullets sprayed from Atlas gun barrels.

By the time JK had woken up and tried to heave Gutpunch's corpse off their back from where he'd shielded them, it had been two days. Groggy and confused, they'd panicked, desperately trying to scrabble out from under his bulk as the remaining Lance stopped piling bodies to burn and ran towards the sound of gunfire outside the gates.

Vault Hunters. Worse than the lance.

They couldn't take him with them, he couldn't move now, but they couldn't leave him like this, not a brother. Not when he was all they had who'd understood when they'd try and explain why their meat was wrong, how the flesh didn't sit right, when he was who would help them tighten rags around their chest and listen as they ground their overly developed canines and growled to the stars at night when it got too heavy to bear. They couldn't leave him behind after a life together, so they took his mask. Scrabbled at the bindings and peeled the effigy from what was left of his head. They realised as it separated from flesh that it had been all that was holding the remnants of skull together... but this was his face. The meat under it was Gutpunch, but the mask... they'd wear it now. He'd still be with them.

Jak-Knife had ran from the massacre of Old Haven on shaky legs, ducking as bullets whistled through the air around them as Crimson Lance and Vault Hunters traded fire in panicked waves. No hits, not directly, but a spray of Slag from a barrel ruptured by a narrow miss had sliced across their right, thick and acrid in the air as it burned through skin and into muscle. There had been no time to feel the pain, no time to stop, JK had run till their feet bled and the weight of Pandora's inky night blanketed them in exhaustion they couldn't fight any longer.

They'd started to stumble forward once they stirred in the morning. Like Mouthpiece said, a ghostwalker. No clan, no brother, no belonging. They walked and didn't stop for a long time.

Walked to New Haven, to the walls outside the town and a woman with her own terribly scarred face masking a heart softer than others would guess. Not a home there, not really, but allowed stay. A kid is a kid, even when wearing the blood-streaked mask of a Bandit. She couldn't turn them away.

They were 18 when Hyperion came.

Ran again amidst the screams to do so, ran into the wastes of Pandora and a world that made more sense to them than the town being torn apart behind them. Missed her though, Pierce. She'd been kind. A lot of those people had been kind, and now they were dead. Hyperion, Atlas, same thing. Just monsters lead by monsters.

They'd walked to the Slabs, to a jovial King who mocked their size with a tone that both bristled their muscle and left them feeling... welcome. Not a home there either, not really, but there had been jobs to run and food to earn. They'd been allowed stay, and so they did. Stil a Hellion though, still Slag-burned and covered in their clan's flame emblems and splashes of neon across their gear.... still wearing Gutpunch's blood coated mask.

The Slab king had heaved himself into their cramped sleeping quarters one night and whispered that there was a funeral for her soon, Pierce. They could go if they wanted, he'd whispered from under that massive helm. Told them with a gentleness they'd never heard before that he understood loss, having things you loved taken away from you for no reason bar cruelty. That he remembered Old Haven and wished he didn't. That they should go. They'd be welcome there.

So JK had walked again, out of Thousand Cut's Slab fortress and to a somber funeral in the icy fields of Three horns that was filled with Crimson Raiders - a mix of Vault Hunters and ex Lance, and stood in memorial amidst people that made the blood under their skin burn, all to show the respect she'd earned to a woman who'd treated them like a human.

A merc now they figured, easier than being a wanderer and Sanctuary needed mercs. Found themselves in the bar some nights, wary eyes glaring from mismatched lenses as they sat silently at corner tables while watching the rest of the loud patrons, back against a wall and a clear exit always planned.

She'd noticed. She liked big 'n mysterious. Liked how her flirtations rolled off them and were replied to with genuine questions about her. Quiet, gentle-voiced comments about the drinks, how well she played her marks, how clever that gunbelt around her thigh was positioned for quick access if she needed to control a situation with more than just her looks.

Moxx liked this one, and a friendship slowly bloomed into something beautiful.

It had been her who had put their name forward when the leaders of the Raiders had become concerned over the darkness slowly seeping across Pandora's horizon, of the bizarre war cries of fanatics leading raids on smaller Bandit camps and shanty towns...

The "Children of the Vault" was a name being passed through hushed whispers in slums and rot-dives, and Lilith had rolled "Calypso" across her tongue enough times when reading scout reports to know the taste it was leaving behind wasn't anything good. They wanted an in, and what better spy to infiltrate a Bandit cult than a Bandit. Someone who understood clan hierarchy, who could report back in words she could understand from a viewpoint she could never see.

JK had been... wary. To say the least. The Raiders weren't friends, they'd filled their ranks with ex Crimson Lance like they hadn't committed atrocities, they mowed down Pandora's natives like mad Skags who needed extermination, and Krieg...

They all knew of Krieg. Everyone had seen how he'd been really treated. JK certainly had, but they also knew Krieg had been one foot into the great hunger, that he'd been so close to the flood that he'd spoken in half Psycho-cant and half Bandit, and tore at his skin to sate the itch of the song that the mad ones screamed about. That the raiders would let him burn alive in a fury if it meant a successful mission, and they couldn't help but wonder how respected he'd really been. Some kind of mix between respect and pity they figured, mocked behind his back as "Just another Psycho", someone who got the job done even if he limped back covered in blood and bullet holes, but was whispered about as needing to be watched.

He had been called a Raider, and yet - masks like his and JKs covered the command room's wall like trophies. Murderers of their clans walked Sanctuaries halls and narrowed untrusting eyes even at Krieg's hulking silhouette as he passed. It wasn't right, and JK struggled to feel as welcome as the others insisted they were now that they had a use.

But they'd taken the job, because Moxxi said they should and Moxxi was clever, Moxxi cared about them and wanted to see them be happy, so they'd agreed. She had whispered in an accent they’d learned from long nights in her company was for real things and not her act, that this would help people, that the COV was worrying her more than she was concerned about getting intel to Lilith, and they'd nodded in agreement.

Bandits don't congregate, Bandits don't merge clans under one banner... they wanted to know what this beast clawing into Pandora's soil was capable of. They'd heard the rumours like everyone else, twin Sirens apparently. Bullshit, everyone knew Sirens were women and there were only 6. Jack had hammered that information through Bandit clans and across Pandora's E-Com network clear enough. These were obviously frauds using trickery to control those eager to believe, wouldn't be the first time a Siren cult had used Bandit clans as a personal army, and JK had felt roiling disgust at the realisation what they were agreeing to do for Lilith? Just another shade of the exact same thing.

Funny, wasn't it. Very funny.

So they'd walked out of Sanctuary and towards the hub of the birthing COV.

They'd been 20 when they had first seen a real God.

The Holy City didn't exist yet, just a pile of rickety buildings thrown up by worshippers that surrounded an old Dahl fortress bleaching slowly in Pandora's sun. They called it "The Cathedral", but it looked like the crumbling bones of some great dead thing jutting from the red sands like a cracked skull. Maybe those were the same thing, JK had thought. A cathedral, and a beast of the flood. Both seemed like something that should be worshipped to them. They liked this place.

Neon paint and rusty metal spines were everywhere among the shantytown, raucous laughter cut through the clang of metal, and the air itself was heavy with an unmistakable stink of unwashed bodies and leather. They felt it so quickly as they'd crunched through the dirt paths that split the weaving rows of scrapped together tents, making their way to the recruitment line. A fleeting tickle of a sensation that hadn't filled their belly in so long. That this was like...

home.

The twins themselves were cagey and difficult to pull usable intel about. They gave sermons from the crumbling balconies of the fortress to the swathes of screaming acolytes below, too far for JK to get a clear eye on them but dressed like Sirens at least. Swirling loops of pacifying blue along the woman, and the man... jagged lines and curved whorls of a vicious red they'd never seen on any living or dead Witch. He was off. That one was wrong, and his sister made her agreement on that clear enough in how she acted next to him. She was the star, she was in the limelight, and he was relegated to a place behind her when she spoke to her worshippers and basked in their screeched worship. Odd for a "God-King" to be left in shadows, they'd thought.

Odd indeed.

They reported back to Lilith in Sanctuary whenever the opportunity arose to leave the growing "City", cult movement, basic info on what they could see as a blossoming threat to raiders, and it was always met with sneers of disgust and pity. Monsters, she'd sighed. Just using the bandits as fodder. JK's eyes flicked to the masks decorating the trophy wall behind her.

"Whatever you say, commander".

Mouthpiece had kept his word. Fully aware of what had happened to JK's clan and uncomfortable with seeing something he believed to be a walking curse among the COV's war parties, he'd purposefully sent them on suicide runs with some of the less physically capable recruits. "Trial by fire" he saw it as, simple logic when it came to survival on Pandora. Let the weak earn their place - if they die, they die. That's the law of the land, and losing the soft only leaves the clan stronger. Except, JK' scout parties just kept coming back. It had seemed almost a fluke the first couple of times, scouts didn't last long after all, but as it repeated again, and again, Mouthpiece and higher members of the raid parties began to notice.

A combination of Hellion war training and their years of working side by side with their brother had left an understanding of why having others watch your back was more beneficial than only caring about your own neck, especially when you weren't as big as the next guy. JK was a survivor, they'd never been willing to lay down and die so the rest of the clan could be down a "weak link", and their knife-edge instincts merged with a care for the other scouts not usually seen amongst Bandits meant they were teaching the team. Unifying them as a group who responded to signal whistles, barked cant, warcries that triggered defence formations and eyes on flanks. They were leading without being called a leader, and as that first year slowly ticked by, they were being noticed.

Sharp eyes that scrutinised numbers and statistics were watching the growing ratio of successful raids to lost bodies from the recessed shadows of the looming Cathedral while Jak-Knife trained and barked orders at recruits in the garrison that sprawled in the white hot sunlight below, and eventually, the day came where the God-King knew their name.

They'd stood shoulder to shoulder with their boys as they lined facing the burning light at Mouthpiece's demand. The mask lenses had done barely anything to block out Pandora's vicious sun as he'd approached, and they'd shuddered at the warchief's hissed warning to show due respect, or die where they stood. He wasn't accepting of failure, they knew that from the hushed whispers that spread across the camp at night. He expected perfection, and word from within the now sprawling architecture of the growing Cathedral was that neither twin took insult lightly. She sucked the life out of the undeserving and he, well, he supposedly just ripped heretics clean apart.

Father Troy had been all sharp angles and gaunt bone as he'd stopped his slow pace in front of them and hunched to lean down to their eye level. They'd realised how wrong they'd been about his appearance as the heavy furs that splayed across his shoulders like a mantle blotted out the sun behind him and framed his jagged silhouette in light.

Tyreen wasn't short.

Troy was a monster.

It had been hard to pick up on his scale when they'd only seen him next to his sister, they'd just figured she was a smaller woman and him a tall man, but the reality of his size was beyond intimidating now that they could see with frightening intimacy that the scrapped together prosthetic that he held at his side so effortlessly was as long as they were tall.

A glint of gold teeth through a smile they'd thought more Skag than human snapped them out of their shock, and he'd congratulated them. Thanked the "Jak-Knife" he'd been watching so closely for their excellent work on the field, waved the disturbingly proportioned metal claws of his arm towards their team and praised their group promotion, slathered honey-thick words from a barbed tongue about how they'd be blessed by being the honour guard for a God now - a fine reward for their outstanding work... yes?

The others had gasped in stuttered praise and whimpered thanks while Jk had nodded respectfully, knowing damn well that Calypso wasn't really asking at all.

The newly titled vanguard escorted him everywhere, and that meant a shift in JK's life within the blossoming city that they could not have prepared for. They no longer slept on bare ground when not visiting Sanctuary for updates, they were brought into the twin's cathedral, were able to see its glory with their own eyes for the first time. The inside wasn't anything like the still decrepit outer walls surrounded by scaffolding that workers scurried across like ants, it was like nothing Jak-Knife had ever seen.

A bastion of worship, vast cavernous stone halls spread with clan banners in colours they'd almost forgotten, neon blazing lights framing sprawling stained glass windows depicting Saints and Clergy who's names they'd heard but never put a face to.

Ur-Aurum, scowling from under heavy brows, framed in monochrome and gold. Coins and bullets pouring from his open palms.

Ur-Machina, sharp and vibrant in reds and coppers, oil-stained hands resting gently on the slab of gilded war tech she rested daintily against.

Ur-Vendit, pristine in parallel lines and perfect angles, sneering through a swathe of shining colours as numbers and cash totals ran like ivy through the window's frame.

And something new that had been being assembled along the great hall when they first entered, a half-finished window titled "Oracle" - just the fine lines of lead and a great, staring eye all that they could make out as they followed the priest irritably urging the vanguard group to hurry as they were lead to their chambers.

For the first time they had experienced, JK not only belonged, but they were envied. Their gear was decorated, armour and weapons upgraded at the Father's blessing, and the titles that came with the role were impossible to avoid, whispered in reverence by warriors who would have spat at their feet only a few years ago.

God-King's chosen, God-King's first, God-King's hand, the nods of respect passed to them by warlords like Mouthpiece in passing filled their chest with pride under the weight of its binder, and the trips back to Sanctuary became... harder.

For all they had achieved within the now monstrous in scale COV, the Raiders saw them no differently than they had when they'd first sat alone in Moxxi's. They were still a Bandit, and nothing more. JK was side-eyed, muttered about, treated like an outsider who needed to earn their keep by passing on intel they were risking their life for, all while in the back of their mind being more than aware that they could have this place raised to the ground with a damn WORD. Lilith didn't understand what it meant to be as close to Calypso as they were, that they were beginning to earn his ear.

She wasn't aware that a fucking God cared about their opinion enough to ask for it on long technical rides or when escorting him between meetings, to her, and to the rest of the Raiders, they were still simply a lost native behind a mask that was being handed scraps of decency by people better than them - and the strain of that reality was difficult to ignore. Moxxi tried her best, always there to console and remind them she valued who they were, the beautiful mind they had shared with her in tender moments and long intimate conversations over the last few years, but the insult burned in their gut still.

They weren't just Jak-Knife. They were the God King's chosen, and they were betraying someone who valued them to share internal information on Saints and departments, cashflow and raids, with people who willingly partnered with the Crimson Lance, people who just plain did not seem to understand who they were, what they had earned through sacrifice and blood shed.

But Troy? The longer they spent around Troy the more his own mask began to slip, and the harder it came to see him as any form of enemy. The blessed Father couldn't hide his weak spells or the times illness left him barely able to stand from a bodyguard who was at his side almost every waking moment, there was no way to do so regardless of how much he clearly wished there was. JK saw everything... the spasms, the fainting, heard the whistling of weak lungs when in silence next to the damaged God, saw the black circles under his eyes that the expertly applied makeup he wore could hide at a distance. He'd been aggressive about it at first, vicious and hurtful in his reactions when they'd try and assist, but over time, as they made clear that the mockery and pity he was expecting was not going to come, he'd softened. He'd thanked Jak-Knife one night as they scraped together a fire on the salt flats to chase the bitter cold away and keep their king warm.

A God had looked at them with ice blue eyes that reminded them of a face they could no longer remember, and whispered genuine appreciation for them. How could they continue to betray him. How could they hurt him for people who didn't even count JK as human?

They saw a delicate and sickly side of one of the twin God's that felt wrong to share with the raiders, that left a bad taste in their mouth to discuss with Lilith, so they simply didn't. The rationalised that the raiders did not need to know about the self-doubt or painful loss JK saw crack through Troy's facade in private, the raiders didn't need an update on how one of the twins wasn't healthy, that he could struggle sometimes to get to his feet before an audience, or would need a discreet support from the solid weight of their muscle next to his spindly frame after some events.

Lilith didn't need to know it, and as time passed, JK found they were beginning to keep secrets. Little ones at first, justified under the intel not being valuable, but the ease of witholding useful data only increased. Their position, the growing camaraderie with the COV's grunts and militia, the respect in the eyes of worshippers who looked to the Vanguard all fed into the slow realisation that their loyalty simple did not belong to the Vault Hunters, it was to Moxxi, who loved them. It was to Troy, who every day became closer to the memory of Gutpunch they'd try and visualise on lonely nights, see his crooked smile and cool eyes flicker across a face they could no longer place.

The closer JK got with the man behind the King's mask, the harder it became to give over information to the raiders that had any real tactical value...

And that had been Troy's plan, ever since the day he'd discreetly planted a tracker on them while they'd squinted against the blinding sunlight to first look into the face of a God.

[buck-nialled]

Mr. Lawyer (2) - N. Horan Imagine

thanks so much for everybody’s support on “Mr. Lawyer”! after a whopping FIVE requests for a part two were sent to me, i felt it was only right for the story to continue and (maybe?) end on a happier note ? who knows ?? guess you’ll have to read and find out. here it is, part 2 of “Mr. Lawyer”

It had been a total of one week since her fight with Niall and due to her “failure of having an established online presence” (Y/N thinks of it more as an accomplishment) she had been named “Mystery Woman” by every celebrity gossip site that acquired the photos. In her younger years, Y/N never pursued the idea of posting “candid” photos portraying some nonexistent life she had seen most people claim to have. It was never in her disposition to be in the spotlight, something which her 24-year-old self was grateful for. It helped her maintain her confidence and focus on other aspects of her personal life like her work.

 Another thing she had taken for granted in her time of ignorance was the age of her boss, who was wise enough in her years to not seek out entertainment news on her television and guiltily watch it, and also take notice in how Y/N displayed herself in the office.

Her boss sought for people like her, Y/N discovered through an email her boss sent replying to the girl’s sudden ask of a week off due to “personal reasons” she would rather not explain but clued an injury in her excuse. Despite the vagueness of the plead, her boss commended her honesty and work ethic when giving her approval. Needless to say, the conversation concluded much better than the girl had imagined, and made her spirits lift somewhat. But the seven days of solitude were hard. On the first day, she woke up with her cheeks tight from dried tears and runny mascara. The swollen ankle complemented the look and also helped Y/N confirm that the night prior did indeed happen. She wasted the day on her couch with a bottle of wine, replaying the memories until they all became fuzzy and blended like that of a fever-dream one could not wake up from.

Day two was where she began questioning why it was so important for Niall to keep his identity such a secret. She remembers his answers to her that night, still. She could hear every twinge hitting his heart as he spoke his apology and gave his reasoning. Looking at all of the photos of both of them on her phone was unnecessary when her brain held every moment for her. The picture Niall took of her in a white button-down of his, panties just peeking out beneath and his mid-calf socks sagging down her ankles at she posed with one of his few very nicely made guitars. When they spent Christmas early at his house and exchanged gifts and kisses under a mistletoe, the camera on her phone caught glass-encased records Y/N never thought to mention, let alone paid any mind to.

She remembers a particular morning waking up to the sound of Niall humming a particular melody she secretly recorded solely because of how angelic the notes sounded with the water pattering against the porcelain to harmonize with it. She could not clear it from her head for the rest of the day and, upon bringing it up to him later on, Y/N recalls the shrug and innocent smile he gave when he told her he “made it up.”

By the end of the night, she was blaming herself for not seeing the signs sooner.

On the fourth day, she discovers that the photos of the debacle could not hide from everybody. Her mother called her that day to scold her, saying she had to find out what her own daughter’s boyfriend looked like through a Facebook post. When the expected questioning of why she was on the cover of a magazine at a grocery store was asked, Y/N lost all answers for herself and hung up the phone with a meek excuse to “explain later.”

The following day, her friend begins texting her incessantly with an update on why she thought Niall looked so familiar when she sent a photo to her a few days ago. At first, Y/N could only chuckle and shake her head, riposting if her friend had gotten in trouble with the law recently. Her friend sent a question mark back and went on to say she does not remember where she saw him. Now she was sending links to his music videos she happened to stumble upon that morning.

It was painful, but she watched them. She bought his album with little regret and listened to every single song, and then kept the most somber one she could find on repeat until her phone ran out of battery.

The week flew by fast, but Y/N could not say she was not thankful. She felt it was a sign of the world that her sulking was over. That morning, she felt that a regular at-home cup of coffee would not do and decided to start the week off right with her usual at the small café near her apartment. It felt like déjà vu walking through the door and hearing the small bell lightly tinkle above her. She was stood in line for five minutes, wearing a tee-shirt of another oldies band her little cousin would decree “vintage” when a tap arrived unannounced to her shoulder. She spun around, and the man behind her sent a kind smile and compliment her clothing shirt. Though the accent was still distinct, it was all too similar and had Y/N’s heart beating faster.

He was unbridled in his advances, asking what would seem like too soon to a watchful stranger if she was single. Normally, at seven in the morning on a Saturday (coffee or not), she would be firm in her stance and spew an answer out with no hesitation and regrets. But Y/N would be lying through her teeth to say that it went that way. It went quite the opposite actually and ended with Y/N stumbling over her words and managing to sputter out how her situation was “complicated.” It was so unlike her to answer even she was unsure of and left the girl asking herself in her spot if she had been sucked into a different dimension that night her love life all went to shit.

The man somehow convinced her to spare a few more minutes of her time as the two waited for their drinks after ordering. She composed her thoughts and better explained then that she had just broken it off with someone. She was going to mention that the “breaking it off” part might be temporary but was still jammed on where she stood with the situation. Hell, Niall had not made any form of contact with her since that night, so how is she to know if he is finding himself in the same place?

“I understand completely. Sorry if I was a bit forward back there, it’s just…”

“No, it is okay I get it. And if I weren’t so conflicted with things right now, I would probably say yes to date with you, but—”

Then, Y/N was floored as the man before her began to laugh. It was a combination of hysterics and a bit obnoxious in its tone, which left Y/n with furrowed eyebrows.

“Oh, no.” He held his hand up to her. “Do not get the wrong idea…”

“Y/N.”

“Y/N, I am already with somebody.” Once again, her forehead creased, and she was befuddled. “I am asking for a friend. He is kind of in the slumps at the moment because of this girl…it kind of sounds like you and him are in the same boat. I’ve been trying to see if any of my friends were up for meeting the guy and help him get over her—”

“By a one-night stand with a stranger,” She scoffs, disbelief now coating her face. “I hate to break it to you, but that is not how you mourn a relationship.” Y/N rolls her eyes and begins to pivot to see how much progress had been made on her drink.

“No, no! It is not like that at all, trust me! I just…I feel like just meeting somebody would take his mind off of it. Even if it does not go anywhere, the lad could use another friend. Especially one who understands what he is going through at the moment. And Y/N, you’re ticking every single box right now!

“What do you mean?” She spins around to face him. “As far as I know the only thing we have in common is our relationship status.”

“I happen to know he loves classic rock, specifical bands such as these.” One of his hands rise to the sleeve of your shirt and pinches the cloth, giving it a small tug.

“That all?”

“Well, you’re both pretty stubborn, too.” He murmurs. Y/N raises her eyebrows and sends a scoff in his direction. Before a biting comment could slip from you, your name was called. The man stayed nearby as you met the barista at the register for your total. As she reached for her pocket, she lets a few swears out beneath her breath from the absence of her wallet. The man notices this and swoops in immediately with his card in his hand.

“I got it—"

“No, forget about it.” Y/N interjects, turning to him. “You don’t have to do that.”

“No, I do actually.” He hands the barista his card before you could reject his offer once again. “Because you’re gonna do something for me.” He says, a satisfied smile gracing his lips as he pockets his card back into his wallet.

“Excuse me?” “Look, I’ll be having a get together at my house this weekend. Nothing big, just a few mates of mine coming over. But my friend is going to be there, so you need to come so I can introduce you.”

“Why would I agree to that?” Your hand wraps around the warm cup and brings it up to your chest.

“Because you seem like an honest gal. Someone who would return a favor and keep her word.” The compliment was sincere as far as she could tell. A few moments of silence fell between the two, and Y/N found her eyes bouncing between two-floor tiles in contemplation.

“This guy? Would…would you say he’s an honest person?” She was hesitant in her question, but the idea kept captivating her. As much as she wanted to deny it, she knew tonight would be no different than the last seven. She would still hear Niall’s laugh echoing in her head, and images of him flashing through her dreams in her sleep. None of the old methods she resorted to in college are working for her anymore.

“He’s the most truthful person I know.” Y/N looked up into the man’s gray eyes, swimming with hope. She wanted to feel like that again.

“What’s your name?”

“Lewis…Capaldi.” He answers. Y/N nods at the new information.

“Okay Lewis…” she proffers her free hand to him. “I’ll meet him. This one night only.”

“That’s all he’ll need, I swear.” Lewis exchanges his phone number with her, and without any further questions, they departed.

By the weekend, Y/N was finding herself flooded in regrets. She felt like she was betraying Niall in some way, despite no clear definition being set on their relationship since their quarrel. Tears were pricking her eyes on her drive to Lewis’s house at the thoughts of how hypocritical she was being. Not even two weeks ago had she blamed her boyfriend for not being honest and hiding from her, and here she was driving to a stranger’s house to meet a potential partner.

She knew that the information of Niall doing the same would make her ballistic with heartbreak. Even more, than she was feeling at this current point in time. Why in the world did she think this would be a good idea? She was only minutes away from Lewis’s front door when she hurriedly pulled over to the nearest gas station. Her hands were choking the steering wheel with strength so great her knuckles were becoming pale. Her heart was pacing erratically and felt uncontrollable. Screams were trying to crawl their way out of her throat, but she was determined to keep pushing them down with each nervous gulp. 

She had not felt this panicked since she excused herself to the restroom at the dinner place. She remembers the counter’s hard edge left deep, red lines in her palms from how hard she was gripping them, and she had to continuously throw her head back for fifteen minutes to keep the tears balancing in her eyelids from trickling down her face.

Maintaining her breathing was difficult, and almost seemed impossible when Lewis began ringing her cellphone. Her eyes locked on the small clock on the radio. She was nearly fifteen minutes late to a get-together she promised to be present at.

She answered the call, shaky hands, and a lump in her throat. She could only hope Lewis would do most of the talking throughout the call.

“Hey, you’re still coming over right?” He sounded urgent.

“Yeah...well—actually maybe not.” Y/N squeaked out in her shaky breaths. Lewis’s “what” was demanding and gave her the feeling of a child disappointing a parent.

“It’s just—I feel so…this doesn’t seem like a good idea, Lewis. I mean, I haven’t even spoken to the guy and he probably doesn’t even know I’m coming over.”

“Of course, he doesn’t! If I told him he wouldn’t have agreed to come over. But he’s starting to cave…been trying to call this girl all night and we’ve had to check on him and keep him distracted. You need to come over, please Y/N! We made a deal! Please, just five minutes. That’s all I’m askin’ of ya.”

Y/N bit her lip, unsure of how to respond. In her haste of guilt and impulsive movements, she ended the call with Lewis and tossed her phone into the passenger seat. Her hand reached to clutch the stick and her phone began vibrating again. It was face-up, illuminating the car with a photo of Niall’s face.

Her hand reached over and declined the call.

She put the car in reverse.

The fourth ring was interrupted with the sound of a voice asking to leave a message. Niall muttered a small “fuck it.” He rose from the couch, refusing to pay attention to the football match displayed on the large television his other friends were entranced in. His figure meandered into the kitchen silently, where he found Lewis glancing down to his phone.

“Hey man, I think I’m going to head out—”

“What?” Lewis looked up from his face, observing Niall’s uninterested expression. “No, come on lad, you got to stay longer. I just…ordered pizza!” His downtrodden mood did not keep a small chuckle from leaving Niall.

“Okay…I can come next weekend for pizza. I just don’t feel well, tonight.”

“Look, lad. I know some girl broke your heart but if she turned you down then clearly she was not worth it.”

“No, she was. She still is.” Niall claims, a stern tone overcoming his voice as his blue eyes pierce into Lewis, the mild irritation in them becoming apparent. They drop a few moments later, along with his hard expression softening. “I was an idiot.”

“Okay, I know that was not right of me to say since I do not know what happened. But you just…you have to stay. Just a little longer.”

“Why? What’s so important?”

“A friend is coming over that I want you to meet.” Lewis blurts. Niall absorbs his words, and also takes in the sheepish smile adorning Lewis’s face. Niall’s hand comes up to rub over his features as a sigh leaves him.

“Why…why would you—"

“Because you two are almost exactly alike. There are so many things you have in common.”

“Well, I had a lot of things in common with Y/N too,” Niall states, growing more frustrated by the second.

“I know, but…hang on. What’s her name?”

“Y/N,” Niall repeats, his heart sinking as her name fell off his tongue again. He missed how it felt good when he said it. A light knock on the door breaks the two away from the conversation, but both men meet each other’s eyes with knowing looks.

“Great! Absolutely fuckin’ wonderful. Tell me, what is so great about this girl, huh? Does she know almost every Springsteen song by heart? Can she recite scenes from awful movies verbatim? Will she agree to go out with me for six months only to end it because I lied to her about my entire fuckin’ life because I was a selfish, judgmental bastard? Tell me, is she gonna forgive me for it? Because that’d be the only difference between her and Y/N. And I’m gonna bet right now, whoever is behind that door won’t come fuckin’ close!”

“Niall—”

“In fact, let’s go see this bird! What brilliant girl did you bring for me to shut down, tonight hmm?” Niall strolled over to the door and swung it open, to see Y/N, her mouth agape and eyes wide. Lewis lived in a safe neighborhood, with beautifully constructed houses. But Niall knows the door is not soundproof and Y/N must have heard every single word.

“You mean that?” Her nose flared, and tears brimmed her eyes. It would have been painful for Niall to witness, but the way her lips curled up and her eyes brightened when she continued to gaze at him was the only tell he needed to know they were droplets of joy falling from her eyes. All Niall could muster was a nod, still in shock that she was stood in front of him. After regaining his composure, he cleared his throat, now gravely from his previous volume level he had not planned on reaching with Lewis tonight.

“Y/N, I am so sorry. I was—”

“I love you, idiot.”

“What?” Niall’s brows furrowed at her response. And his answer came in the form of her arms locking behind his neck and drawing his head down for their lips to finally connect. He was an idiot. But if Lewis’s words were true, he was as honest as idiots come. And how could she let that go?

click HERE for my masterlist!

[singularname]

ooc: cats 2019 was hot garbage that doesn’t belong in the jellicle junkyard. Below are my thoughts and my review. I get pretty technical at points. So here you go. PERSONAL BLOGS DO NOT REBLOG! Liking and commenting and sending me asks about stuff is fine. But please do not reblog. I’m sure more thoughts will come out as I discuss things and such, but these are my first impressions.

positives ( will be above the cut ):

You could tell who the broadway singers were and they stood out.

Munk was good, but I have some thoughts but overall he was good. He was probably the only one that even remotely understood his character, but he still had a few off beats.

Jennifer killed it, no i wont take critiques. Memory was pretty good.

Mungo and Rumple made the debut version of their song likeable (cause I do not like the debut version of their song) yet i have thoughts.

Bustopher Jones (the song) was decent, out of all the reworked numbers it fit the best and didn’t seem to far from the reworked plot or the original, so it was a good middle ground. James did well, he’s no operatic singer, but he did well, best of the non-trained leads at least.

Gus was good but his song was a bit boring he needed someone more to play off of as that is what acting is partially

Skimble may just have been the best part of the whole damn thing. The inclusion of tap into his number was pretty smart. I do wish more of his accent shined through though.

The rundown theater worked it would have worked better if they kept it all there.

negatives ( below the cut ):

Dance was sacrificed for cinamtography which was a damn shame. this musical is one of the premier dance musicals

Munk’s voice at the beginning was far too high, and did not exude power. It got better.

Victoria being the stand in for the audience was stupid and pointless. Especially with the fact that Addressing of Cats was kept in and broke the fourth wall.

Victoria’s acceptance of Grizabella was pointless because the jellicles hadn’t accepted her, she wasn’t even considered a jellicle yet. Her agency in that number meant nothing. If she had been a jellicle it would have been better. A better audience stand in would be the fucking kittens cause its their first ball.

The lack of touching made the touching that was their awkward. It was like they were all afraid to touch and interact with each other. And the CGI didn’t help, like when Munk lifted Victoria off the car at the beginning which looked like he wasn’t grabbing her at all which we know isn’t true.

Tugger had no point in the musical because he sang his number and disappeared, and not by fucking Macavity. Jason could have done more with the character, he had the right voice, but its like he wasn’t trying.

Jenny-Any-Dots was ruined. She wasn’t a respectable cat, and the mice were stupid. Sorry, I mean the idea was cute in theory, I liked that, but the execution was stupid. And the zipping of her skin NO. It just works better with the cats acting it out like they act out skimble’s number or bustopher’s number. It didn’t add anythign to the cats sing the songs about themselves because that idea was dropped when Skimble and Bustopher even sang their songs. Like its a poor idea and poorly executed, especially since the original is like gossip the cats gossiping about who could be chosen.

Who will it be echoed only once? UGH. The chorus was fucking weak in the few moments they were given to stand out.

Speaking of clothing, the clothing choices made no sense, along with proportion of human clothing. If I put a watch around a cat’s neck it would fucking choke. Yet a ring can fit around a cat’s arm? Some of the clothing was too human like all of Misto’s costume (which why was he wearing it the full time? he looked better without it).

The replacement of coricopat and tantomile for the hip hop twins was utterly stupid and useless.

Some of the framing of songs and such especially at the beginning was bad. But that could also be because it takes you about 4 songs to get your eyeballs used to the damn CGI.

Mungo and Rumple were good, but Rumple would have been better if she kept the accent up like Mungo did. I loved seeing them do a burglary, but I prefer the musical version where the scare the cats away under the guise of macavity then have fun in the junkyard.

Growltiger had promise as a song but they only gave us a line followed by a joke so that was stupid. The whole barge shit was stupid. Their were no stakes and we never see the other cats get off the damn barge. Also griddlebone poor poor griddlebone.

The opening number was missing so many things like decent choreography. None of the choreography made them look feline, they looked like humans doing a mix of jazz and ballet. Just turning their hands over instead of open hands would have been a tremendous change. But like I said earlier what choreography there was was sacrificed for cinematography so you could see what you were supposed to see instead of letting the audience watch and see it on their own with some lighting suggestions to draw the eye away from the main dancing.

I think the concept of Skimble’s number was great, but I thought taking them out of the ballroom was stupid. But it was the strongest number and the one besides memory which had the most relation back to the original.

Why were their so many songs and verses cut? Naming of cats named only plain names, not the fun names which is where we get names of our characters from! Like half the cast is named in that number. It made the chorus seem distant and impersonal, along with the lack of touch.

Robbie should have gotten the same treatment as the girl playing victoria he had almost a bigger role than her, aside from her little grizabella moments which all of those important grizabella moments were done in seclusion. Half the reason they have agency in the stage show is because other cats can see her.

The lack of touch! enough said.

Tugger not singing Mistoffelees song upset me. Robbie did good, but he is not Tugger. Mistoffelees song was ruined by all the pausing and bullshit. There was not a climax to the song at all because it was always stopped and restarted. it felt like a dinky kids roller coaster that had no real payoff because Misto has no confidence so when Deuts appears it may not have been because of Misto at all just saying.

Old Deuts was... bad. Judi was pitchy at best (sing talking the lines just don’t work), and just not very convincing. Her presence wasn’t commanding or authoritative no matter how much Robbie tried.

Bomby was fucked three ways to hell. Taylor was okay, but the song Macavity was ruined with the catnip and all the bullshit with that. Macavity is a cautionary tale, and doesn’t fit in with the actual purpose the musical wanted it to be. Her song wasn’t as a good as normal, and it missed aspects that having it as a duet brought.

Beautiful ghosts was absolutely pointless, and quite petty of a song. Perhaps if we knew more about Victoria or she was a jellicle it would have made sense, but it just seemed very disconnected.

I am mourning the cut of Peeks and Pollicles. Because it explain its a dog, so when Bomby says it in Macavity you have a connection to the word. Here it just seemed like a nonsense word. Plus no rumpus cat. Cutting it means that Munk’s normal song was changed to skimble, and i guess misto. Also cutting it means you take a whole number away from the chorus, and thus you loose more personality of the chorus cats.

The chorus seemed absolutely pointless because you never could watch them and focus on them. They were just their not interacting with one another, not doing anything really. All of what makes the jellicles a tribe was taken away because these cats seem like strangers to one another. Not to mention taking away their solos at the beginning is a crime and again takes away from the personality of each individual chorus cat.

Jason should have sang misto’s song cause it would have given him a purpose besides a star to get butts in seats. he was their and i half wanted him to sing the end where victoria did because then he would have had a purpose but nope.

The cutting of so many verses from songs was just a shame. The musical inspires people to take up ballet, and jazz, and tap but all of it was cut for cinematography purposes and to make you look at the main actors in a different shot so their is no inspiration for the dance.

Skimble’s number had an awkward shot on the train bridge that was so far away you couldn’t even see the silhouettes any more.

I mentioned proportion earlier but like the train tracks were way off, i mean we’ve all seen Aristocats right?

Victoria not having her moment after naming of cats was sad. And whatever moment their was ruined by the assassination of misto’s character. Cause it was bad. He never questions himself as being good in the stage show just where his powers come from. But here he has no steadiness in if he is good or not, and he’s just badly characterized.

The kittens had no excitement for Tugger in his song. None of them did they seemed more happy about the milk rather than this hunk in front of them.

Macavity was shit. Seeing him throughout took away from him being mysterious and threatening. Seeing him fall at the end with Griz floating away was absolutely stupid and cartoonish and TS Eliot is rolling in his grave at that alone. Why he is not a zombie yet coming to kill Tom Hooper for fucking his poems up is beyond me. Also Macavity is a ginger cat... but he had no hint of red hair on him at all.

The jellicle ball dance sequence was bad. It wasn’t just that they weren’t cat like it was that what’s his face was trying to do a Sugar Plum Fairy and have them all dance to the quieter notes in the musical which made it seem disjointed. Sugar Plum Fairy works like that because its a light number she is supposed to make you listen for what she’s dancing too not just what you are hearing. This did not work.

The plot was stupid. The competition and stealing of cats was stupid. It was not needed. The had the element of putting on a show and talking about cats getting chosen they didn’t need macavity for more than that, or to make him want to be chosen. Him being a threat alone is good enough.

Munk did not get his fight. That was given to the damn cats on the barge. I am not happy with that.

I wish the named cats were more present in the bigger group. They blended into the background before their own songs, and then they disappeared because of the shitty capturing the cats plot device that was shitty and not needed. It took away from your familiarity with the cats who were present because we know nothing about those cats at all.

A moment of silence for all the chorus cats we don’t see or know, or were written off, and had no interpersonal relationships with each other. Literally the lack of touching between them makes it seem like all these cats are strangers to each other. Robbie tried.

Another moment of silence for Gillian Lynne’s choreography. The nuance she gave to it, that was all lost and gone.

Finally the CGI the hands were inconsistent, as was the face stuff. They had whiskers but they were hard to see, and because they had no nose or mouth (cat versions) defined it didn’t feel right, and we know it was possible to do both since the actors wore makeup.

[soveryanon]

Reviewing time for MAG128 /o/

- I!! Hate!! The!! Parallels!! In!! This!! Series!!

(MAG128) ARCHIVIST: Why are you here? BREEKON: Dunno. ‘t’s not right… on my own… not right… No point in doing it on my own. Don’t know what happens now…

[…] “I fed her to it. She took him from me. Made us a me, and she doesn’t get to die for that. […] I am without him, now. I. am. I can feel myself fading. Weak. No reason to move. Nothing to deliver. […] I have never known hate before. I have never known loss. But now, they are with me always, and I desire nothing but to share them with you.”

[…] ARCHIVIST: I, I saw that… thing’s mind, i–it’s lost on its own. No partner, no… purpose, I… I honestly think it just wanted to do another delivery.

The ~ surviving part of a half~ explaining how his whole existence is pointless and driveless now that his partner has been killed… sounded so, so much like Basira’s own situation regarding Daisy since:

(MAG112) DAISY: Elias is… keeping me busy. Hunting. Takes a while. [FALTERS] I’m used to working… with a partner. … It’s fine. BASIRA: Daisy… DAISY: It’s fine. BASIRA: Right. … But it’s not, though, is it?

(MAG117) BASIRA: […] But at least Daisy’s coming along. I mean… I know she’s… difficult. Everything they say about her, it’s true, it’s fair. But… she’s solid. She’s a fixed point. And if she’s there, I know exactly where I stand, exactly what I’m doing relative to her. She has no doubts. We go in, we plant bombs, we leave, we blow it all to hell. Or we die. I don’t think I’ll ever have clarity like that. Despite everything she’s done, she’s… she’s still the best partner I ever had.

1°) Basira and Breekon both are the remaining part of their own duo; the difference between monsterhood and humans being maybe… that Basira’s existence isn’t intrinsically tied to Daisy’s; that humans can feel loss and pain, but won’t get their literal raison d’être, sense of purpose and belonging shattered if they lose part or one aspect of them. In a way, that makes monsters’ existence more tragic, since they’re not even able to overcome, to thrive and to survive?

2°) I can’t help but wonder, flipping the situation: and if Daisy had been fed to the coffin first, and if Basira had stumbled upon Hope right after, would Basira have tried to hurt (one of) them the same way they had hurt her by taking Daisy’s life? (Would Jon have done it, too, if given the opportunity to hurt the ones who had hurt Tim and Sasha? He… actually did hurt Breekon here, and it is so, so easy, now, to perceive him as a Monster from the monsters’ point of view…)

3°) Jon’s summary of Breekon’s current state to Basira felt… quite cold compared to the statement itself, I felt? It wasn’t just “another delivery”: it was Breekon trying to viciously hurt what had hurt him. It was achieving a personal revenge before disappearing. I’m… a bit surprised that Jon went so clinical about it.

4°) But it could have also been a kind of protection, since… Yes, “Breekon” and “Hope” tortured and killed, delighting in others’ suffering and misery. And Breekon also confirmed something that we had seen through Jude’s erh, fascination with Agnes: that monsters and avatars are sentient. They have feelings. They are able to form attachments, to feel loss, to desire revenge. So… just because someone cares about a selected few, wouldn’t prevent them from hurting bystanders, innocent or people who just don’t personally matter to them. That’s not something especially encouraging when we have Jon in mind – he cares about the assistants and about Georgie, and he felt sad for the victims in previous statements, and I hope he will be able to remain this way, but… what will happen, what will be become when he “drowns”, indeed?

- I’m often struck with waves of awareness about how much I love this friggin’ series when listening to new episodes, and it happens in various ways – this time, my heart got full of love with the way Breekon’s statement definitely connected the dots between previous ones, through his point of view and in chronological order? And in the midst of it, we got a confirmation of what had actually happened in the second episode of the series!! How rad is this? How rad is it that, while the statements in themselves provide a story that works on its own since the beginning of the series, we’re able to revisit them with information that adds so much more meaning to things that were already there?

* Jon had wondered about “Breekon” and “Hope”’s alignment since they appeared to be involved with various powers, but seems they were indeed part of The Stranger in the end:

(MAG093) ARCHIVIST: But Breekon and Hope? Speaking Russian and helping transport a victim of… whatever dark power rules over disease and rot. And insects, maybe? I was just about convinced that they served the Stranger, and their speaking Russian might well support that if it ties them to the Circus, but… this is not the first time they’ve been delivering things that seem to be tied to other beings. Are they a neutral party, carting round whatever horror needs delivering, just a piece of otherworldly infrastructure? Or are they fully part of the Stranger, just serving as allies of convenience for other things that need to be moved?

(MAG128, “Breekon”) It wasn’t the plague they feared; it wasn’t the death that awaited in our wagon; it was us. Two strangers rolling towards them, unstoppable and uncertain, wearing faces they would only half-remember, bringing a fate they would beg their god to forget. They could not hate us anymore than they might have hated the rock that falls on them from a crumbling cliff. They did not know us. But they knew what we might do to them. What we might bring them. And we did. […] We always take what jobs are before us, deliver whatever will bring that fear and misery, but there is no joy in carrying Meat and shifting, writhing Spiral things.

They followed various phases of progress and technology: long-distance boat journeys as they served on the Robert Small during the 19th century, crossing paths with prisoners from Millbank sent to Australia (“Poor wretches who emerged from Millbank, with tales of Australia and its cruelty on their lips, bundled into the cramped and creaking ship that would drag them away from everything they loved – and towards everything they feared.”); trains, as they became conductors; cars, as they delivered items for auction houses at the beginning of the 20th century.

* Pre-MAG024, MAG044: during some time, including from 1948 to November 1952, they joined The Other Circus, feeling like they belonged:

(MAG024) ARCHIVIST: […] on page 43 of Gregory Petry’s Freaks and Followers: Circuses in the 1940s, I found a reproduction of an old black-and-white photograph. It shows a small group of carnival workers: a contortionist, a fire-eater, two strong-men, a ringmaster and an organist sitting behind a calliope. The photograph is labelled as being from 1948 and taken in Minsk, Russia.

(MAG044, Yuri Utkin) As I scrambled back, I felt a large hand on my shoulder, and looked up to see two huge men in overalls. They lifted me easily, so my feet hung almost two feet from the ground. They talked fast, crude Russian, and their words seemed to shift back and forth between them, telling me that behind the tent was off-limits […].

(MAG128, “Breekon”) Then were the good times, the Circus times. […] with the Circus we were amongst our own kind at last. […] We carried and lifted and helped the Circus move towards its next destination, the next, doomed town. Sometimes we joined the show, lifting weights and things that looked like animals. Sometimes we lifted members of the audience. Sometimes we even put them down again. […]

They didn’t like Nikola at first, but were impressed by her, though they eventually decided to leave when she “lost the ancient skin” – that one is, I think, a mystery? Gertrude stole the gorilla skin from the taxidermy shop but that happened June 23th 2013 and April 4th 2015, so it can’t be the same incident.

* For some time, they picked up hitchhikers (and starved them to death), though they missed having clear destinations and carrying spooky items bringing misery to people.

* MAG096: From 1993 to 1996, they slowly took over Alfred Breekon’s delivery company “Breekon & Hope”, stealing from him its name aaaand the infamous Cockney accent (MAG096: “[One] turned to his companion and opened his mouth. ‘Breekon at your service. Who might you be?’ Instead of the Russian accent I had expected, he spoke in a broad, cartoonish Cockney that I assumed must be a mocking impression of my own voice.”). They went back to doing deliveries or moving items for different entities (MAG093).

(MAG096, Alfred/Arthur Breekon) They wore featureless grey overalls, and even now I’m not sure I could easily describe what they look like, other than to say they seemed solid. Somehow heavier than the world around them. […] Strange folk began coming around asking for Breekon and Hope, and when I told them who I was, they just shook their heads, and I knew who they were after. They often brought crates or boxes with them and, once, a sack full of hair. […] For all that, they do seem to have friends, or at the very least, people who come to see them regularly. Most I don’t remember, the features difficult to put together from memory, but I know that more than once I’ve seen the pair of them talking to a figure at the other end of the depot. They always make sure these meetings are in shadow, and I can never get close enough to see exactly who they’re talking to, but I think they’re dressed like a circus ringmaster.

(MAG128, “Breekon”) Driving aimless, waiting for the call, sat badly with us. We were meant to know our destination. We were meant to have a cargo and an address. So it was we found a man named “Breekon”, and we took everything they were until there was nothing left but the sweet taste of a broken soul’s disquiet and confusion. We took the van and started to deliver once again.

* MAG002: In the 90s, they helped “John” carry an item from The Buried, when he was trying to test its powers – except it backfired badly, since the test subject he had picked turned out to be the Most Practical “Would Survive A Horror Movie” Statement-Giver Ever, and Joshua Gillespie managed to resist the coffin’s temptation for almost a year and a half. We already had a hint about “John” being from The Stranger in MAG002, because of how Joshua had trouble describing him:

(MAG002, Joshua Gillespie) I’ve tried to describe the man who now sat opposite me many times, but it’s difficult. He was short, very short, and felt like he had an odd density to him. His hair was brownish, I think, cut quite short, and he was clean shaven. His face and dress was utterly unremarkable, and the more I try to think of exactly what he looked like, the harder it is to picture him clearly. To be honest, though, I’m inclined to blame that on the drugs. […] John had to take a second to look me up and down, almost in disbelief, as I asked if they’d come to collect their coffin.

(MAG128, “Breekon”) And so we took the casket, a hungry thing of the Earth, a crushing, choking tomb that will not let you die because it is too much what it is for Death to find you there, within its mocking shape – buried alive. It was one like us that found it. A thing of shifting names and déjà-vu. A fool, that believed because it found a coffin in chains, it would be an easy thing to control, to bargain with. But there was no remorse when the test finally failed and it fed on the thing that considered itself the master.

Since Joshua had managed to not open the coffin, “John” was swallowed by it instead when they went to retrieve it.

* Breekon and Hope ended up stuck with the coffin and had to carry it around.

(MAG128, “Breekon”) But there was no mention of us in the deal. No thought towards what might happen should a victim pass the test. And what happened was… we were stuck with it. It was still our cargo. Nowhere to take it, no address or destination, so back in the van it went. A long time, we’ve carried it. Keeping it as close as it wants, not listening to it sing in the rain.

When Jon was sequestered by Nikola, she had made her distaste of the coffin clear, hinting that it wasn’t from The Stranger, while Breekon and Hope had said they couldn’t separate from it:

(MAG101) NIKOLA: Oh, don’t worry, it’s not for you. You won’t even need a coffin – we’re going to use every piece of you. ARCHIVIST: [MUFFLED EXCLAMATION] NIKOLA: Now could you two please move that thing somewhere far, far away? BREEKON: Not really. HOPE: Needs to be near us. NIKOLA: Well, just… just move yourselves away, and take it with you.

* MAG061: The coffin notably ate Daisy’s partner, Isaac Masters, on the 24th of July 2002 while they had stopped Breekon&Hope’s van (accompanied by a “Tom”) on the motorway for driving too slow.

* Overall: in MAG078 (2001, the Web table now binding the Not!Them), MAG024 (2004, the calliope), MAG020 (2009, Father Edwin Burroughs’s pale yellow stole), MAG054 (2013, stopped in front of the Taxidermy shop), possibly MAG083 (2013, taking the ringmaster “mannequin”), MAG035 (July 2016, bringing the Web table and the Web lighter to the Institute for Jon), MAG099 (May 2017, Jon was the (unwilling) package.), Breekon and Hope carried and moved things around, being mostly active for Stranger-related activities.

(MAG128, “Breekon”) Even when the mannequin that now called itself Orsinov came back to us, told us we could help the world Unknow and fear again the coming of Strangers, still we had to drag it with us: an unclaimed package.

* MAG119: during the Unknowing ritual, we heard Daisy as she snapped and tore Hope apart, Breekon then trapped her into the coffin.

(MAG128, “Breekon”) But I suppose it was worth it in the end. When that Hunter killed him, when she took her violence of mindless instinct and unleashed it on us… it was there. It was waiting. I fed her to it.

* MAG128: with Hope dead, Breekon realized he wasn’t tied to the coffin anymore and delivered the coffin to the Institute. Breekon fled, but will probably fade away soon.

- We got some additional information / some confirmation about Nikola’s creation, too:

(MAG097) ARCHIVIST: Who are you? NIKOLA: Well, my father called me Nikola, and then I killed him, so I thought I rather deserved to have his second name too. Which makes me Nikola Orsinov. Pleased to meet you at last. ARCHIVIST: You, um… You killed Gregor Orsinov? NIKOLA: Yep! He got really boring, and I’m a monster. I mean, what do you want me to do – not pull him apart? I did use all the bits.

(MAG102) ELIAS: […] There is also one, the “Danseuse Étoile”, that requires a costume of special power or distinction. Gertrude believed that Orsinov and his circus created a dancer specifically for this role. ARCHIVIST: I–I’ve met it. Calls itself Nikola.

(MAG119) ARCHIVIST: Yes… Yes, I s… I see the sad clown, b–bitter and hateful. I see him finding his way into a ci–circus where nobody knew him. I see him torn apart, becoming the mask, remade by a… a cruel ringmaster. Sometimes a doll, sometimes a mannequin, always hiding in somebody else’s skin. Somebody else’s name. NIKOLA: Not always, and it’s far too late for any of that. Nothing you see can help you.

(MAG128, Breekon) We didn’t like the puppet, when Orsinov began to carve it. It seemed wrong to us to try and bring one like us about; to create or remake it in such a solid, static shape. We were wrong, of course. When Orsinov carved into the thing that had once called itself Grimaldi, and fed the pieces they didn’t need to the shuddering organist, even we found ourselves impressed. And when the faceless puppet peeled its creator and moved itself with their tendon strings, he looked at me… and laughed… and laughed… We followed her a while, but she was unpredictable, while we are things of point and purpose. When she lost the ancient skin, we went our separate ways and found ourselves a lorry, long and dirty grey.

I had assumed that “Nikola” was the Hellish Lovechild of Gregor Orsinov (the ringmaster) and Nikolai Denikin (the organist), but it sounds like Denikin did Not Have A Great Time in that process after all, oopsie – we knew, according to Gertrude, that he had left the circus by the 70s (MAG044), so it might have been precisely because of what was done to him during Nikola’s creation. I wonder if he fathered his child before or after he was fed Grimaldi’s pieces, though? Because if so… is Leanne (statement-giver from MAG024), his granddaughter, kind of part-monster?

- With the chronology given through the courriers’ point of view, Breekon’s mention that he felt itself fading, and Jon’s following comment:

(MAG128) BASIRA: And there’s no chance more of the Circus survived the explosion? ARCHIVIST: I don’t think so. At, at least… Breekon didn’t think so.

… it sounds like Breekon’s statement served mostly to close The Stranger’s chapter. It feels… very weird, in a way. The Stranger had been the most prevalent of the entities since the beginning of the series: it opened it (MAG001), it was the invisible enemy through season 2, it was the shared target through season 3. It took Sasha. It took Tim. And now, the close future doesn’t sound much brighter: there are still books, monsters and avatars roaming out there, there is still the New Unidentified Menace, there is still the possibility of The Watcher’s Crown, there is still The Web weaving Her/its plans. The only satisfaction is that The Stranger’s ceremony won’t be a concern again for a few centuries, but there are still so many other threats to deal with…

- I’m also so fond of the way… things in Magnus tend to be hilarious and heartbreaking at the same time? That statement went full-on burlesque, twisting the deep-rooted complementarity and love into grotesque, and then bam, the conclusion just felt… sad? Tragic?

(MAG128, “Breekon”) They knew this and feared us in kind, and we drank it down, the taste of it sweeter than the food that now rotted on our plates or the drink that curdled in our cups. And we both tasted it together. When we left our destination, the mule whining at the new weight behind it, he would reach behind us and find a face, sagging, sloughing off its skull, and would pull it to him. He’d place it over the one he wore already, and he would laugh, and laugh, and laugh. Sometimes it fell off. Sometimes it stayed for weeks. I kept the face we chose, but I loved him for our levity, and the corpses piled ever higher. […] We knew she wouldn’t scream as she was hollowed out and drunk, but still he thought best to cover the sounds with a laugh. He was always our humour. […] And when the faceless puppet peeled its creator and moved itself with their tendon strings, he looked at me… and laughed… and laughed…

[…] She took him from me. Made us a me, and she doesn’t get to die for that. […] I am without him, now. I. am. I can feel myself fading. […] I have never known hate before. I have never known loss. But now, they are with me always, and I desire nothing but to share them with you.

ROMANCE!! IS!! NOT!! DEAD!!

- I’m very serious about how WOW did Breekon and Hope sound like soulmates, in a romantic or queerplatonic way. That “I remember our first automobile” too, felt like an old couple taking a look back on their whole life together. “Things” pretending to be “humans” and at the same time… demonstrating genuine emotions? And the whole use of pronouns! Breekon was avoiding them in his first sentences – sometimes avoiding to say I because he couldn’t say “we” anymore! Sentences being short and segmented, as if waiting for Hope to complete with the next part!

(MAG128) BREEKON: [HUFFS] Yeah. Just like when we… when I… fed the copper to the pit. […] In here. Realized that I’m not tied… to it anymore. Not on my own. Thought you could have it. Pay your respects, lik– […] Dunno. ‘t’s not right… on my own… not right… No point in doing it on my own. Don’t know what happens now… Thought I might kill you. Missed my chance. Thought I might just… deliver something. So here’s a coffin. [RATTLING SOUND] In case you want… to join your friend.

And in the statement, too: Hope was The “He” for Breekon, while humans tended to be “they”, even when identified as male/female (only exception being the old woman taken by The Web). Nikola was a “she”.

That’s… very fair, considering how Jon and others tend to use “it” for monsters: Jon began the episode by calling Breekon a “he”, and then switched after the statement (“I, I saw that… thing’s mind, i–it’s lost on its own. No partner, no… purpose, I… I honestly think it just wanted to do another delivery.” Rude, Jon, rude!!! Especially since the monsters just proved themselves to have feelings :w)

I never thought I would grow sad for effing Breekon and Hope, godsdamnit!

- Since MAG127 already mentioned Millbank and its possible ties to the Institute (through Jonah Magnus), and Breekon also consecutively mentioned both here, it sounds more and more likely that we’ll dig a bit into that part of history later:

(MAG128, “Breekon”) Poor wretches who emerged from Millbank, with tales of Australia and its cruelty on their lips, bundled into the cramped and creaking ship that would drag them away from everything they loved – and towards everything they feared. That was the first time we saw what would become this place, The Eye’s Pedestal. But we were drunk on the dawning horror of transportation and took no heed of it.

It’s… curious how Beholding has been grounded in the same place for so long? It seems to be the only entity to have become sedentary like this – Elias even mentioned that “Should I, or the Institute, be destroyed, you will all, unfortunately, follow suit.” (MAG092). That made it practical to feed The Eye (with people giving statements to an identified place), and now a danger since other entities know where The Eye’s people reside. Given how the place sounds so important, is The Watcher’s Crown supposed to take place right there? Though we don’t know how long the Usher Foundation in Washington DC and the Pu Songling Research Centre in Beijing have been around and whether they have the same status and history as the Magnus Institute (there wasn’t any mention of Archivists being tied to them, though; Xiaoling even explained how she had suggested someone from her centre for Elias…)

(I don’t know if the word “pedestal” was used on purpose here but… etymological root has to do with a foot. Elias had also said that “Basira is now tied to the Institute. All of you are. Like fingers on a hand. And I am the beating heart of it.” We’re completing the anatomy analogy?)

- Overall: HOLYYY MEEWWWWW, even though I’ve relistened to the episode multiple times by now, I just get chills every time when Jon… freezes the scene. The sound effects were so good, too!! Regular static, encasing that high-pitched buzz… and I loved the echo so much when Jon gave orders We’re so used to Jon getting slapped around that this sudden moment of control and authority was!!! The fact he sounded more offensive, aggressively protective!!

Even at the beginning of the episode, the fact that Jon was in charge of the situation was audible, since there were some shared elements with Nikola’s debut:

(MAG097) ARCHIVIST: [SHARP INTAKE OF BREATH FROM THE ARCHIVIST] NIKOLA: You don’t want to do thaaat~ [FOOTSTEPS] I mean, you can if you really want to, but you’re not going to like it. Sometimes not being able to see something is actually quite a good thing. […] Don’t turn on the light.

(MAG128) BREEKON: Don’t say a word. [SILENCE] BASIRA: [LONG EXHALE] [DOOR OPENS] BASIRA: Jon. Don’t turn on the light. Go get Melanie. Quickly. ARCHIVIST: It’s alright Basira, I know he’s here. BASIRA: So what are you doing? ARCHIVIST: I imagine he’s here to deliver something. Thought it might need signing for.

Light off, a Stranger who sneaked their way into Georgie’s house/the Archives. With Nikola, Jon was startled, stuttering, afraid, toyed with, dominated; with Breekon, Jon… managed. Stayed put. Snarked and used his powers. Stopped Basira and Breekon when they were on the verge of fighting. Neutralized Breekon.

(Though I think that Breekon might have punched/tackled Jon on the ground when he fled, and Jon collapsed right after reading the statement aloud so, eh, Order Is Restored in the world. Jon also still a punching bag.)

- Aaaaand in-universe, it was awful, thanks!!! So, Jon finally used compulsion again. He’d really held back until now, and mostly used it when Breekon was refusing to answer Basira’s own questions:

(MAG128) BASIRA: Is he here for revenge? ARCHIVIST: I don’t, I don’t know. Ask him. BASIRA: Like he’s going to answer me. ARCHIVIST: Fine. [INHALE] [STATIC–] Are you here for revenge? [/STATIC] […] BASIRA: What do you want? Why are you here? [SILENCE] ARCHIVIST: [SIGHS] [STATIC–] Why are you here? [/STATIC]

That was a lot of compulsion, but expected from an interrogation, and mostly to back Basira up. Jon also knew that Breekon was there – probably from another ~insight~. The new thing was how… Jon then proceeded to very naturally use a brand new power? Not 100% sure whether he was driven by a will to prevent harm to Basira (she was ready to fight Breekon) or by a desire to know Breekon’s story, or a mix of both, so intentions are not absolutely clear. The process, however, was worrisome in the mere concept of EXTRACTING a statement out of someone; the fact that Breekon clearly didn’t want it, told Jon to stop and was suffering from it… made it absolutely horrifying.

(MAG128) ARCHIVIST: Stop. [HIGH-PITCHED BUZZING SOUND OVER STATIC–] BREEKON: What’re you doing? BASIRA: … Jon…? What are you doing? BREEKON: What’re you– Stop it… Stop it! ARCHIVIST: [ECHOING] No. BREEKON: [STRUGGLING, BUZZING INCREASES] Enough! Stop… looking at me!

(And I’m not sure that Jon didn’t actually contribute in Breekon’s feeling that he was “fading”: Jon got to know the unknown. I doubt that it can do any good to an agent from The Stranger – it seems like hurting their nature.)

+ Bonus point for Jon possibly developing night vision, since the whole scene took place in the dark (Basira told him to not turn on the light, and we didn’t hear the clicking of any switch). Though Basira also managed, so maybe Jon didn’t need to see.

(He looked at Breekon, however: did it feel like the whole weight of Beholding, like Jon experienced in his nightmares?)

- Basira had just summarised Jon’s powers last episode (MAG127: “So. You can’t be killed by a collapsing building. Major injuries scar up fast. You can force the truth out of people and knowledge pops into your head whenever you need it.”) and we’re already adding one more to the list – and it turns out to be that Jon can extract the story of an unwilling person out of them. It might have been in order to protect Basira here, but it also feels like the slope from one thing to the next could be so, so slippery… (from there to using his powers against a monster that wasn’t directly harming them, because they need its information; to using his powers against… anyone, really, as long as it’s protecting the assistants, even against people who never wished harm to them). Just this would make it understandable that Basira refuses to trust Jon or to get too close to him, since he’s proving that he’s developing, and fast, and that she can’t know what he will (become able to) do.

… At the same time, Jon would definitely need anchors and moral compasses around. (Martin, while you’re busy and involved into Peter’s schemes, and maybe truly fighting an actual threat, Jon is turning into another one ;;)

- Added horrifying bonus: it… sounded a bit like the “statement never given” that Elias did to Daisy? There was static when he gave it:

(MAG082) ELIAS: Here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to make a statement. Your statement. […] Statement of Alice Tonner, regarding the crimes and death of Calvin Benchley. Statement never given. […] Everyone calls me Daisy. I like that because it sounds so gentle, and I’m the only one left who knows about the scar on my back.

Jon’s and Elias’s powers had sounded very distinct until now, but some bits are making them sound more similar, this season? Thinking about MAG102 again, I remember the sudden burst of static just before Elias mentioned that Melanie was coming up with a knife: had he seen that, or had he known about it (like Jon’s insight, same burst of static), since I doubt that Melanie’s knife was in clear sight in the corridors leading to his office?

(It wasn’t the same thing as what Elias did to Melanie in MAG106 and Martin in MAG118, since Elias didn’t present those as statements and used the third person, and, overall, the whole concept of it felt different: it wasn’t about extracting their stories, but about carving information they didn’t yet know in their brains. Putting in knowledge that wasn’t there. Will Jon become able to do that too eventually/soon…?)

- MMMMMMMMMMM

(MAG127) ELIAS: Possibly. Then again: you are beset by enemies on all sides, Basira. And unless you expect Jon to record them into submission, it would seem you’re in rather dire need of another option.

DID YOU KNOW ABOUT THAT NEW POWER, YOU AWFUL MAN :| (Since Jon “extracted a statement out of them into submission” and it was recorded.)

It also sounds less and less likely that Elias’s reasons to not be face-to-face with Jon are truly about ~*Jon’s own good (according to Elias)*~, uh.

(MAG128) BASIRA: […] So you won’t see him, but you’re happy for him to hear our conversations. ELIAS: He can listen all he wants, but he’s at a very delicate stage right now, and I… fear my presence would be a… a distraction. I’ve made it clear my cooperation’s contingent on his not seeing me, and my terms have been accepted thus far.

YEAH L-O-L ELIAS. Are you actually fearing that not only Jon could compulse the heck out of you now, but also pull out your own fucking statement out of you without you having a say in that. Hilariously (/horrifyingly), is the fact that Elias was thrown in jail… actually protecting him from Jon?

(I’m not saying that Elias wouldn’t be into Jon forcefully extracting his statement out of him. He was really into getting compulsed, even while fighting off the effect of it. But it would mean that Jon forcing information out of him probably wouldn’t be serving his plans right now, which means… he indeed Has Plans and things he wants to hide.)

- At least, Jon’s new power sounds like it’s taking its toll on him, which I’m taking as a good thing (since it will force him to be cautious about that, the sheer immorality and violence and cruelty of the power in itself notwithstanding):

(MAG128) ARCHIVIST: Statement… ends. [RUFFLING OF CLOTHES ENDING WITH A THUD AS PROTAGONIST, WHO DEMONSTRATED A FAIRLY SURPRISING AMOUNT OF USEFULNESS THIS EPISODE, PROCEEDS TO SLIDE OFF CHAIR AND PASS THE FUCK OUT.]

I’ve laughed too many times on that stupid moment, I have no excuse for feeling like it’s Comedy Gold, but. But. Listen. It’s so… so Jon.

Another reason for Jon’s tiredness could also be due to the amount of statements he’s been handling lately. He has had periods like this: the end of season 2 was… pretty intense, only three weeks from MAG071 to MAG080. Right now, less than twenty days have passed from MAG121 (15th February 2018) to MAG128 (3rd March 2018). Assuming that MAG122 also took place on February 15th, 2018: MAG122: February 15th MAG123: February 17th (“Two days out of a coma, and I’m already tired.”) MAG124: February 24th (“It’s been a week and… Melanie’s attitude towards me hasn’t softened.”) MAG125: ? MAG126: ? MAG127: ? MAG128: 3rd March That means that since MAG124, Jon has been reading a statement about every other day (and at least once two days in a row). The current rhythm feels very close to the streak from MAG091 to MAG094, April 28th and 29th, which resulted in Jon giving up at the end of MAG094 and blaming it on the amount of statements (“Are you alright? You look like you’re about to keel over.” “Uh, no, I– I just… Ther– There’s been a lot of statements, in not a lot of time. I’m… I’m exhausted.”)

The average rhythm was around once a week usually, I don’t know if this means that Jon has been exhausting himself lately (to be fair, he doesn’t have a whole lot to do, since nobody wants to talk to him and he’s unable to do satisfying follow-ups) or that he feels withdrawal faster than before… and/or, in any case, if he’s just “obeying” the tape recorders when he sees one running.

- I feel Basira’s distrust very deeply, since… since Jon chose to write Breekon’s statement before recording it.

(MAG128) ARCHIVIST: It’s fine…! [/STATIC] Get me a pen… please. [CLICK.]

[…] ARCHIVIST: Basira, we, we can’t– BASIRA: Yeah, I can read.

It’s not a given at all. Why did Jon decide to write it down, when he probably could have just recorded it right away?

I’m obsessed with this but: I can’t help but think that it might be related to Jon’s dreams – did he assume that recording right away would have made it count as a live-statement and that he would be “given” another dream, Breekon’s?

Assuming that Jon still sleeps. But at least, we know he can pass out! And he still drinks. He had asked for water back in MAG122, and Basira brought him another glass in MAG128 according to the sound.

(MAG122) BASIRA: […] Anything else? ARCHIVIST: Water. Please. BASIRA: Sure thing. [OPENS DOOR] ARCHIVIST: … Oh, or a cup of t– BASIRA: [CLOSES DOOR]

(MAG128) BASIRA: Here. [GLASS CLINKING] ARCHIVIST: Thank you.

- Now that we’ve had confirmation that Daisy is actually alive, reminder that:

(MAG120) ELIAS: […] All through it, the shadow is above him; the shape that gazes down upon him, bloodshot and unblinking. The rain is still there, though it is empty; the long and desolate road, slick with the downpour, a police car’s lights flashing over the unmoving van. The doors are open and the two familiar statues stand either side of the well-worn wooden box. He looks around, his eyes scanning this forever road and the clouds of iron grey, looking for her – but she is not there. The Archivist expects, he hopes, to find the violence in her looking back at him, hungry for pursuit and murder. But the emptiness of the place is complete, the only sounds the gentle singing of the box, and the pounding, bitter rain. He knows the writing on the coffin has changed, though is still carved into the splintered wood: [STATIC INTENSIFIES] “I am for you.” He knows it is not addressed to him, but he reaches down and pulls the chains off all the same. It opens, and he walks slowly down the steps into the earth; but even as it closes above him, the great shadow still Sees him. There is nowhere in this universe that it would not blot out the sky.

We don’t know what is supposed to happen if a live statement giver dies. Daisy’s case, though, was already an oddity, since her dream was still there – without her. Breekon did imply that The Eye couldn’t access the coffin when mentioning “John”:

(MAG128, “Breekon”) It was one like us that found it. A thing of shifting names and déjà-vu. A fool, that believed because it found a coffin in chains, it would be an easy thing to control, to bargain with. But there was no remorse when the test finally failed and it fed on the thing that considered itself the master. No face to Change in the cold, dark earth, and no Eye to fool, where it is now.

So although The Eye is all-powerful in Jon’s dreams, the coffin seems to be out of its reach in our world. Is that an overall property from The Buried, or specific to the coffin? I wonder if Leitner’s pamphlet, A Disappearance, is actually a Buried book too? (My suspicion had been The Spiral until now.)

(MAG080) LEITNER: Hardly a book. Barely twelve pages. It is entitled A Disappearance. If read cover to cover it removes one from the world. I cannot say precisely what that means, only that the assistant I assigned to it, Jacob Feng, was never seen again. I have found, however, that reading only one or two words is sufficient to hide me from the prying eyes of your master. It allowed me to talk with Gertrude in relative safety, and occasionally come above ground for my own ends.

(We… don’t know the status of that one, by the way, since Leitner had it close with him when Elias butchered him. So Elias probably got his hands on it.)

Overall: Jon still hasn’t mentioned anything about his dreams so far, while telling Basira that she could trust him and sounding very transparent and honest… I’m still not sure if Basira is suspicious of Jon having an active part in the dreams she used to have before becoming an assistant (and that Daisy still had as of MAG112, since she wasn’t an assistant), but if she is: that’s another reason to be wary of Jon. She would know there is something else that he’s not telling her anything about. What do you know/remember about your dreams, Jon…

- YOU KNOW WHO CAN FIND PEOPLE/THINGS THAT ARE “CONCEALED” THOUGH? THINGS THAT THE EYE CAN’T REACH?

(MAG101) “MICHAEL”: The Eye watches, and the Stranger conceals, but me… I lie, Archivist. I am the throat of delusion incarnate. They can’t hide you from me.

Jon! Jon!!! Could “Helen” help to reach the inside of the coffin…? (Really not sure about it, since it was about The Stranger, not The Buried, but then… Breekon was able to tell that people didn’t die inside of the coffin. How could it know? There might be ways to know/feel what is alive down there…)

- Basira time because Holy Mew did I get feelings all over.

(MAG128) [CLICK–] [SILENCE] [MOVEMENT, CHAIR RATTLING] BREEKON: Don’t say a word. [SILENCE] BASIRA: [LONG EXHALE] [DOOR OPENS] BASIRA: Jon. Don’t turn on the light. Go get Melanie. Quickly.

BASIRA, gdi!!! The fact that she was still level-headed enough to give instructions right away while threatened!! (I wonder if she told Jon to get Melanie to protect her, or if she thought that Melanie could still… be well enough to act as their fighter again, even when not under The Slaughter’s influence and recovering?)

And SSSSSSSSHHHHH you felt the shift when Breekon alluded to Daisy; Jon needed to act with her like she had acted with Daisy in the past, that really meant that she was ready to snap hard.

(MAG092) DAISY: Bouchard. BASIRA: Easy.

(MAG128) BREEKON: Yeah. Just like when we… when I… fed the copper to the pit. BASIRA: [ANGRY INHALE] ARCHIVIST: Easy, Basira. BASIRA: [EXHALE]

(And towards the end, was ready to FIGHT BREEKON…….)

(MAG128) BREEKON: In here. [KNOCKS ON SOMETHING] Realized that I’m not tied… to it anymore. Not on my own. Thought you could have it. Pay your respects, lik– BASIRA: Daisy’s in there.

Her voice and my heart broke at the same time with her “Daisy’s in there” AOUCH AOUCH AOUCH…

I’m still so fond of the way Basira is able to assess things very quickly and efficiently… and for once, she tipped over and lost her cool. Breekon made her crack, and holy Arceus, the fact that it was about Daisy…………….. hhh.

- Given how Basira announced that she would leave right after Jon stated that the coffin was from The Buried…

(MAG127) ELIAS: I might have an idea, yes. BASIRA: And what does it cost? ELIAS: Just some of your time, Basira. Just your time. BASIRA: … [SIGHS] Okay. Let’s hear it. [CLICK.]

(MAG128) BASIRA: Where does the coffin lead? ARCHIVIST: … The Buried. BASIRA: Right. [SILENCE] [INHALES] Right. Keep it safe, I’ll be gone a few days. I have some leads I need to follow up. ARCHIVIST: Sorry…?! BASIRA: You heard me.

I’m suspecting that Elias might have told her something cryptic and Buried-related, and that Basira pieced it together at that moment? What Elias told her could have been totally unrelated but it feels like an odd coincidence (especially since Jon had just proven that he could use his powers to neutralize enemies after all) and… going back to MAG120:

(MAG120) ELIAS: Hello, inspector. Martin. I’m… sorry to hear about Tim. MARTIN: Don’t. ELIAS: And Daisy, I suppose. MARTIN: Don’t. you. dare.

It sounded, back then, like the usual joke of belatedly remembering Daisy’s existence. But it could have also been Elias knowing that she wasn’t dead like Tim.

- I’m worried about what Elias told her, though, and what Basira will have to do ;; Assuming it’s all to bring back Daisy: is she supposed to go fetch an item that could help? Or someone: a Buried avatar? A Vast avatar (as they’re opposed): Simon Fairchild, since Jon doesn’t want to meet him? (He’s probably deaaaad but ;; can’t help but think about Jan Kilbride? He “disappeared” after going back to Earth but we know that he was still around in February 2008, when he gave his statement (MAG106), and probably June 2008, where he was implied to be with Gertrude when she went to stop The Buried ritual in America (MAG097). Probably died countering the ritual, but if he survived… he has already fought against The Buried, had met Gertrude, had collaborated with her to stop an apocalypse. Could be an interesting option. Though, once again: is probably long dead.)

… or is Basira supposed to ultimately take Daisy’s place in the coffin…

And I’m so worried over the fact that it… doesn’t seem like she told Jon anything about her meeting with Elias? Though Elias had told her that he didn’t mind Jon hearing their conversations (so she’s not coerced into hiding information, it’s her own decision)? It’s also unclear if she’s given the tapes to Jon, but we’ll see if Jon mentions them while she’s away – or… not at all. Jon will complain about Elias if he’s hearing anything from him.

- ;; We got Basira’s own summary of the events following The Unknowing and… indeed, her point of view clears up a lot of why she’s been so cautious and distrusting. Her previous situation was strongly tied to Daisy’s, and based on the assumption that she could more or less trust the others (though she wasn’t very confident in Tim and Jon’s abilities to fight):

(MAG0117) BASIRA: […] I don't want to be here. But by the end, I didn’t want to be police either, so… guess I don’t really know what I do want, which… maybe that’s just as well. My options… they’ve gotten a lot narrower over the last year. I don’t know. I feel kind of bad. Everyone seems to be having a much worse time of it than me, and I was meant to be the hostage. It’s amazing, how much you can ignore when you keep your head in a book.

Basira had been involved in the Institute against her will (MAG092); it has never been a place she chose. But in order to get out of The Unknowing, she couldn’t rely on anyone. She managed on her own, and since then: Daisy was officially dead, Tim was dead, Jon was in a coma. The only remaining people were Melanie (who had been unstable since then, while infected) and Martin:

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

It officially answers why Basira said that she had never met Peter Lukas in MGA123 (“Never seen him. As far as I can tell, Martin’s the only one who has.”) despite the fact that Peter had asked Martin to bring Melanie and Basira to his office in MAG120 (“Well, if you could send Melanie and Basira up to see me, I’d like to introduce myself.”). I get the impression that Martin’s behaviour really was what convinced her to not trust easily? She… hasn’t been mean towards him since the beginning of season 4, actually defended him, acknowledged that he has had a difficult situation, but at the same time… I wonder if she isn’t having the same suspicions as I am: that Martin and Peter are one and the same, or that Peter is rooted in Martin, without Martin being aware of it? And the conclusion would be that just because someone is genuine and wishes you no harm doesn’t mean that they can’t actually be a threat to you. Hence her wariness towards Jon, even though he insists that they’re on the same side.

(Ironically, it’s… a bit like Tim’s reasoning in season 3: when he got back on his feet and driven by his desire to avenge Danny’s death by destroying the Circus, he also began to avoid everyone since he couldn’t be sure that they weren’t something like the Not!Them or plainly didn’t know them, and he decided to only rely on himself. We know how that ended for Tim; that doesn’t bode well for Basira… ;;)

- Basira used to like Jon’s sense of humour and… it’s not the case anymore, uh.

(MAG088) BASIRA: I just, I mean he was good company. Y’know, when he wasn’t being a paranoia machine. He was funny, you know? MARTIN: What, Jon? BASIRA: Yeah. MARTIN: I don’t think I’ve ever heard him tell a joke. BASIRA: Maybe you weren’t listening.

(MAG123) ARCHIVIST: […] So: we’re under siege; Melanie is aggressively unstable; Martin is working very closely with The Lonely, who is, predictably enough, isolating him; and, oh, yes, Tim and Daisy are still dead. Which is at least easy to keep track of! BASIRA: That isn’t funny, Jon. ARCHIVIST: I know it’s not–! … Sorry. It’s just… it’s a lot.

(MAG128) BASIRA: And don’t open the coffin. ARCHIVIST: [HUMOROUS EXHALE] It is addressed to me! [SILENCE] … Yes, alright. … Alright.

I COULD JUST FEEL BASIRA’S GLARE IN THESE LAST SECONDS. Jon relenting and changing his tone was so beautiful.

Too bad for Jon he mentally scarred the only person who was still finding him entertaining:

(MAG128) BREEKON: … That’s ‘s name? Then sure. ‘t’s in there. Whatever’s left. Find out if you like. ARCHIVIST: Would you please drop that ridiculous voice?! BREEKON: [DIFFERENT ACCENT] Apologies. Is preferred like so? ARCHIVIST: Christ, that’s worse… BREEKON: [CHUCKLES] ARCHIVIST: [STATIC–] What is your real voice? [/STATIC] BREEKON: [CHUCKLES] Nikola said you were funny. Didn’t believe it.

Jon, why do you do this to the people who at least appreciated one (1) thing about you.

(I’m still rolling on the floor about how, while a MONSTER had SNUCK INSIDE the Archives, and was partially THREATENING THEM, and had proven in the past that it could WRECK YOU in a fight, and had even PUNCHED JON HIMSELF before throwing him in its van back in MAG099… Jon’s priorities involved getting irritated about its fake accent. Jon. Joooooooooon. You’re especially funny when you’re not even trying.)

- At the same time, Basira didn’t absolutely cut Jon out entirely. She’s still probing him with questions, still waiting for him to share his discoveries. She brought him water. And… the fact that she’s leaving the Institute for a while incidentally puts Melanie and the coffin in Jon’s care – that’s… actually… a form of trust, in a way? I wonder if she might be, despite it all, trying to test whether she can trust Jon on some matters.

(MAG128) BASIRA: You heard me. Don’t ask about [my leads], and don’t know about them either. ARCHIVIST: I can’t exactly control that! BASIRA: Learn. ARCHIVIST: … [SIGHS] I’ll do my best. […] BASIRA: I’ll try and be back in a week or two. Don’t think about me. ARCHIVIST: Right.

^Could be a way to check if Jon can prevent himself from spookily knowing or trying to investigate? Forcing himself to find a way to refrain it even if he has no idea about how at the moment? (Basira is absolutely the reverse of an enabler, which… makes sense, since she keeps finding new ways to get herself out. She managed to survive The Dark. She was the only one who managed to find her way out of The Unknowing, by herself. At the same time, what she told Jon is… easier said than done. But indeed: it’s that, or enabling and probably accelerating Jon’s downfall.)

(- At the same tiiiime, re:Martin, maybe it would be Very Too Much Hopeful, but. But.

(MAG128, “Breekon”) […] The Spider’s always an easy job – no fuss, no complication, everything planned and prepared. It knows too much to truly be a Stranger, but hides its knowing well enough to injure.

YES, it sounds awfully like The Web and what it’s probably doing right now with Jon/the Institute. But I also thought about Martin, here, and I can’t shake the idea now: it’s clear that Martin is wary of Peter and he explicitly said he didn’t like to be manipulated – he’s not oblivious to what Peter is doing, though… he’s also been opening himself a lot more than feels necessary (Peter knows how to push Martin’s buttons and to persuade him). But what if it’s actually more about Martin trying to manipulate him – Martin showing some parts of him only to get closer, pretending to be vulnerable, trying to establish how Peter operates and what his weaknesses are, for when Martin would have accumulated enough knowledge to take care of the new threat? I mean, Martin took down the previous Head of the Institute through dissimulating and deceiving. He’s done it before. He could do it again.) (/ realistically: yes, it’s me trying to still hold on to the possibility of Web!Martin, sssssh >> I… was so fond… of the aesthetic of Martin being in control, albeit awkwardly…)

- Breekon breached into the Institute and mentioned that he’s felt “loss” since Hope’s death. So. You can’t convince me that Peter Lukas, Agent Of The Lonely, didn’t know that he had entered the Institute. And yet, he didn’t help, didn’t do anything at all.

He had mentioned that Elias was “very protective of his people” (MAG100), which wasn’t super-reassuring regarding how Peter himself takes care of his people, even less for people that are not even his, but… we still don’t know why Elias chose him as an interim director (… if he indeed did), and after The Flesh attack and now Breekon, it seems less and less likely that it was to protect the Archives or Jon himself. So: why was he chosen? What is he supposed to do?

- It sounds like what Peter had hinted at the end of season 3 worked exactly how we could fear – “giving everyone some space”, from a Lonely agent, sounded… very bad and worrisome. And indeed, they drifted apart:

(MAG120) PETER: […] After that, I’ll put through a couple of weeks of paid leave for you all. I think giving everyone some space, to try and deal with the loss of… Tim and… Daisy, might do everyone some good.

Hey!! Peter and Elias, so far, totally succeeded in shattering the Archives team. They’re not even able to collaborate on a common project like they did in season 3 (trying to stop The Unknowing, getting Elias into jail). Martin has been persuaded that his “isolation” will help to fight the New Threat; Basira is adamantly choosing to not trust Jon; Melanie has been refusing to talk to Jon so far. Jon has been successfully isolated, too. Was it the point, or one of the points, of what Elias and Peter did overall…?

- Jon, please, don’t say anything ever unless you’re being pessimistic/negative, since:

(MAG123) ARCHIVIST: […] and, oh, yes, Tim and Daisy are still dead. Which is at least easy to keep track of!

Daisy is not dead anymore! You were wrong again and things did get more complicated! Rejoice!

… Although Daisy is probably having it worse than death and has been for the past seven months; it could be that they’ll manage to get her out of the coffin only to have to mercy-kill her shortly after. Or will she have to make the same kind of choice that Jon did in MAG121? Like Jon, she’s in a place The End can’t reach:

(MAG121) OLIVER: […] The thing is, Jon, right now, you have a choice. You’ve put it off for a long time; but it’s trapping you here. You’re not quite human enough to die, but – still too human to survive. You’re… balanced on an edge where The End can’t touch you – but you can’t escape him. I made a choice. We all made choices […].

(MAG128, “Breekon”) And so we took the casket, a hungry thing of the Earth, a crushing, choking tomb that will not let you die because it is too much what it is for Death to find you there, within its mocking shape – buried alive.

I would really like to see Daisy back and functional; the fact that she was Basira’s anchor makes me fear that ahaha nop, would be too hopeful (and she snapped during The Unknowing...), but I loved the familiarity they shared with Basira… And I loved Daisy and Jon’s weird little friendship, gosh!!

(MAG096) ARCHIVIST: So, what? Now you sell dead animals? What is this place? SARAH: The Trophy Room. A taxidermist shop in Barnet – it says above the door. Surprised to meet an Archivist who can’t read. ARCHIVIST: No, I– DAISY: [LAUGHS] Nice! […] DAISY: Come on. Before the Met get here. ARCHIVIST: Whatever you say~ DAISY: And wipe that grin off your face.

- In the meantime: how much will it sting, for Jon, to… keep watch over the coffin, knowing that Daisy is inside and that they might ultimately find a way to save her… while Tim is dead-dead and won’t come back, and there is no hope of him coming back ever again. When one glimmer of hope happens, it’s often hard to refrain from thinking that others could follow suit.

- We’re now 1/5th into season 4! And even if Jon feels ~static~, we’ve technically learned quite a lot? In the six months following the Unknowing, not strictly chronologically: Elias stayed in prison; Peter Lukas “managed” the Institute without revealing himself to anyone except Martin, only sending emails and memos; some researchers disappeared after ignoring his orders; Martin’s mother died; Melanie’s frenzy worsened; Basira tried to keep things afloat; other Fears have been targeting the Institute to prevent The Eye from completing its ritual in this cycle; the Flesh attacked the Archives and was defeated thanks to Melanie; Melanie & Basira have begun to live in the Institute; Martin visited Jon in the hospital, begging him to wake up and help, and given the lack of answer, accepted to work with someone (most likely Peter) with the promise that the others would be “safe”, and has indeed been working with Peter Lukas since then, getting more and more estranged from Basira and Melanie.

Since MAG121: The Dreamer, Oliver, revealed that he had turned into an avatar of The End. Jon ~made his choice~ and woke up. Georgie decided to stop taking care of Jon. Jon said that he didn’t remember everything about the Unknowing, learned that Tim and (presumably) Daisy were dead. We learned that The Web might have intertwined itself with the Institute for (at least) the past years, or at least that Annabelle might have intentions regarding the Institute or Jon in particular. Jon has used many powers other than compulsion, at an alarming rate: Knowing things, being directed towards specific statements (and feeling the presence of written ones), forcefully extracting a statement from someone’s brain, being able to See an otherwise undetectable spooky item (Melanie’s bullet). Basira and Jon removed said bullet from Melanie’s leg; Jon got stabbed in the shoulder, healed quickly. Melanie’s anger was confirmed to have been at least partially supernatural and Slaughter-induced, though she is still currently deeply hurt by the whole ordeal. Jon and Martin briefly saw each other, with Martin intentionally avoiding contact: he indeed made a deal with Peter Lukas, they’re working on Adelard Dekker’s suspicions of a new Menace, which requires Martin getting more powerful (and balance “between the two”), hence his “isolation”. Martin has been taking care of the Institute’s admin tasks for Peter, who “can’t stand computers”. We learned what happened to Albrecht von Closen a few years after he had sent his letter to Jonah Magnus: Jonah stole the mausoleum books from Albrecht, who turned out to have had sons by the time he died (his body filled with eyes). Basira visited Elias in prison: Elias gave her a tape recorder that had appeared in his cell, for her to give to Jon, and explained that he doesn’t want Jon to see him. He tipped Basira off about another potential “defender” for the Archives. Breekon brought the coffin to the Institute, confirmed that Daisy is inside and not dead; Jon used a new power on him to prevent him and Basira from fighting, unrolling his backstory. Basira is leaving for (she thinks) about one or two weeks, to follow up on “some leads”, potentially Buried-related, and forbade Jon from trying to Know what she is doing.

Tl;dr It feels a bit like things are dragging on and that not a lot is happening since Jon is back to being sedentary (after moving, going out and travelling a lot in season 3), that we’re waiting together with Jon… but at the same time, the shrouds around some mysteries are becoming a bit clearer, and a lot of elements have felt like they’ve broken the new status quo already. We’re getting a few missing pieces and completing new parts of the puzzle, while we’re advancing towards… something. (It feels a bit to me like the slow initial ascend of a rollercoaster, too: and there is the dread that when things will pick up for real, the velocity and savageness will simply be mind-shattering…?)

- I have a few ideas about Jon’s options but no certainty nor ~insight~ about what he could choose to do right now, since Basira left? Will he wait? Will he keep pushing his powers, trying to get redirected towards a statement that could help them… with the whole situation, or for the coffin? Will he try to actively research on The Buried or The Hunt? Will he try to focus on something else to avoid accidentally prying into Basira’s business: trying to get Martin back, digging a bit more into the Institute’s foundation or Gertrude’s notes again?

Now that Basira has left, though, a discussion with Melanie… might be coming ;; I’m eager and anticipating Pain at the same time, though… She had been aware of a change in her when she was influenced by the bullet (MAG117: “Elias thinks he’s got this ingenious way to hurt people, but it’s just the same old bullshit in a creepy new package. … asshole… God! I just want to rip his…! [BREATHES] When did I… start to lose the parts of me that weren’t just anger…? … Hm.”), so I’m really curious to hear her again, now that she’s been presumably freed from it – with rightful resentment and distrust… but also a clearer mind.

(I wonder if we’ll hear about Georgie again through her ;;)

MAG129’s title has been given on Patreon: statement-wise, I’m suspecting a Buried one (though could also be The Lonely, or The Dark attacking the Archives, maybe). As for the second meaning, I’m flipping a table in fear that it could be about Jon’s metaphorical inner door already – but at the same time… it would feel very early for that. So, hum. Could be about Melanie’s impressions from when she was under the bullet’s influence? Could be about Jon getting emotionally overwhelmed by everything and having a breakdown, without any door opening? … Could be about Martin and Peter again.

[airis-paris14]

You Rock My World

A/N: A story that popped into my head while listening to You Rock My World (obviously). Probably won’t be another part.

Warnings: Nothing really.

The blue lights reflected off of the King of Wakanda’s face. His measured steps floating him effortlessly down the stairs. Eyes dead set on a woman sitting at the bar. Her dress hugged her physique beautifully. Her posture was relaxed, laying casually in the bar stool chair. She twirled the glass of liquor aimlessly in her hand as she observed the room. Eyes lazily caressing every aspect of the bar.

“Is this seat taken?” T’Challa interrupted her perusing. “It will be if you sit in it,” she tilted the glass back at her lips. Ice clinking melodically, the liquor drifted past her lips. Unbuttoning his suit coat button, the king settled onto the seat next to her. He raised a hand absentmindedly, signaling for the bartender. “May I?” his hand gesturing to her now empty glass.

“If I said no, would that really stop you?” she replied coolly, glancing up at him. “Two of whatever the lady desires.”

The bartender glanced at her expectantly. “That depends. Do I want to be sober for this conversation?” her lips curled into a grin. “I will leave that decision up to you.”

“We’ll have your oldest Pinot Noir,” she requested. The bartender nodded before walking off. She turned slowly in her chair, eyes journeying slowly over her newest beverage venture’s financier. “Well, your majesty, your people must be doing well for themselves.” her words sliced through the silence. T’Challa’s eyes narrowed slightly, his hand involuntarily tightening the slightest. The mysterious woman’s eyes darted towards the movement in her periphery. “It was a simple parlor trick your majesty,” she teased, slowly nodding in acknowledgement of the bartender. He gracefully poured them each a glass. T’Challa’s eyes followed his every movement, eyes clouded with the questions he was anticipating being able to ask. The neck of the wine bottle rolled off, just above the rim of the second glass. With the wine still wrapped in a linen napkin, the bartender set the bottle down before walking off.

“How?” the king asked, watching her fingers slink around the stem of the glass. Gently, she swirled the expensive wine around. Watching the liquid splash gently off of each side of the glass. She allowed herself to take a sip, “Your right hand, bears a signet ring.”

“That could be anyone’s family heirloom.” he surmised. “Ah, but Americans, and Europeans tend to be flashier. An unfortunate habit we seemed to have acquired over the milenia.” she shrugged. “Now your accent, it points to West African Influence. But, not a very prominent country. As foretold by your, albeit charming, uncommon accent. On certain words, your otherwise flawless english, tends to hesitate almost, hinting at a strange vernacular structure for you. Now, what West African country has very wealthy families. Not many that wouldn’t have accents that I am familiar with.” she paused, raising the glass to her lips again. “Now, here’s the fun part. When you walked in, you had three guards with you. All female. Relatively unheard of in any country. Except one that I’ve only heard of in passing rumors. A small, private, country that also has a monarchy. With a new king,” she grinned. “Therefore, T’Challa Udaku, King of Wakanda. Based on your spending, tonight the cut of your suit included, you are either a horrible monarch, or Wakanda is richer than it is letting on.” she finished, taking another sip of her wine.

“Spy?” he placed his glass gently on the table, turning to face her. “Assassin. Former.” she corrected. Tilting the glass back once more. The king raised an eyebrow. “They used to start young,” she answered his unspoken question. Not glancing up from her glass. “24,” she tilted the glass back once more, reaching for the bottle to pour another. “I didn’t,” the king began.

“You didn’t have to.”

What do you do know?” he inquired.

“I work for myself.”

“How so,”

“Government officials have the most to hide.” she pointed, cocking her head slightly.

She slipped gracefully off of her stool. Grabbing her glass she winked at T’Challa before walking off. The king signed his tab before following a few moments later. “I figured, we should at least finish the bottle together.” he slid into the booth opposite from her. Her eyes gazing over the city.

“Persistent,” she replied. Still glancing out of the window.

“I get what I want.”

“What exactly is that?” she hummed, swirling the wine in her glass once more.

The king took another sip. “You.”

She hummed in response, glancing at him from the corner of her eye. “How does this benefit you?”

“What do you mean?”

“You barely know me. I barely know you.” she replied, casually finishing off her glass. T’Challa poured her another.

“You are a beautiful woman who intrigues me.”

“And you are a king. We are still at square one,” sh eyed him. “ Me being a king is not benefit enough for you?” He tilted his head slightly puzzled. “Are you insinuating that it should be your majesty?” Her lips pulling into a fierce line. “No, I am simply intrigued by the fact that it is not.”

“Why should it be your majesty. I feel as though relationships should be mutually beneficial. I get to experience a whole new world with you. As a result of you being a king,” She explained.

“So you admit you are open to the idea,” a sly grin spread across his face. “I might be. Depending on your answer.” She raised the glass to her lips.

“Very well. I want you to come back with me to Wakanda. I want you to teach me how to read people. We shall start with six months. Everything you need will be provided. After that period. We can reassess, granted that you wish to stay longer.” The king set his wine glass flat on the table.

The woman finished the rest of her wine. “I’ll sleep on it.” She slid out of her seat. “Thank you, for a lovely evening.”

She started gracefully towards the door. “Wait. When will I see you again? I leave New York-“

“In two weeks,” she finished. “How did you?”

“The UN assembly is in two weeks. You’ll have my answer by then.” She began walking again. T’Challa signaled for his Dora to follow at a distance. “How will I reach you?”

“Trust me, we will meet again. Have I been wrong so far?” She cocked her head. “Besides, chasing after women doesn’t look good on you my king.” She teased.

“Image be damned. I know a good thing when I see one.”

“Good things always come back around. Goodnight my king.”

She glanced back, red blossoming under her smooth ebony cheeks. She turned her back once more, disappearing into the night.

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[entergamingxp]

A Blessing in Disguise Review — Always Trust the Pizza, Zach

July 8, 2020 9:00 AM EST

Deadly Premonition 2 marks the return of Francis York Morgan and his brand of weirdness. He can also skateboard now. It’s rad.

To call the first Deadly Premonition a cult classic feels like a bit of an understatement. Swery65 and the team at Access Games created one of the most intriguing, yet technically terrible games in recent memory. In 2010, the game felt like a modern-era version of Shenmue’s “gameplay” mixed with an oddball murder mystery like Twin Peaks.

Fans of the original release will be happy to know that the trademark weirdness is still alive and well in 2020. In fact, this prequel/sequel, Deadly Premonition 2: A Blessing in Disguise, feels like it was entirely designed back in 2010, and then Swery just held onto it for 10 years.

As such, this makes it a very difficult game to give you a clean-cut review score. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if several people just read the score and skip my text in their haste to take to the comments section to complain. Your enjoyment of Deadly Premonition 2 mostly comes down to what you value most in your video games.

In short, if you like wacky casts and a harebrained plot that barely makes sense, Deadly Premonition is probably worth a try. However, if you need your games to play at a consistent framerate or want precise control over your actions, maybe look elsewhere.

That dichotomy between two thoughts of game design is represented in nearly every aspect of Deadly Premonition 2. It might be tough to fully explain all of my thoughts on my favorite game outside of NieR: Automata or the Yakuza series over the last half-decade while also feeling hard-pressed to call it good. That said, I’ll do my best while going into some spoilers, so fair warning.

“York is, perhaps, my favorite protagonist in gaming history.”

Let’s start with the most important aspect of Deadly Premonition 2, which is the characters. This cast of misfits is often hilarious, always compelling, and sometimes full of more emotion than you previously thought possible. Obviously, the star of the show is Francis York Morgan and his alter ego, Zach. York is, perhaps, my favorite protagonist in gaming history. His encyclopedic knowledge of B-movies and his willingness to explore anything in the search of truth make him the kind of guy you’d love to have on your side.

At times, he might seem to not really understand normal humans, but then you realize that he’s just on another plane from the rest of us. Sure, he refuses to call Arnold Schwarzenegger anything but Arnold S. And, I’ll grant you that mentally hopping out of conversations to talk to what some would call an imaginary friend is probably not the best way to handle an investigation, but York is always there to surprise you with his deep understanding of how people work. He’s able to assess situations in ways that other characters can’t because his worldview is so different from the norm.

York isn’t the only character worth talking about. There’s David, whose four separate personalities fulfill the roles of your hotel’s chef, concierge, bellboy, and owner. There’s also Mrs. Carpenter, the bowling granny. Or maybe, like me, you love the always-cursing crawdaddy farmer Chuck. The man might have a short temper, but when he goes off on you in his heavy Louisanna accent, it’s a thing of beauty. You haven’t seen a better putdown wordsmith in video games.

And, it would be a mistake to not also talk about York’s young assistant, Patti. As a foil to York’s oddball behavior, Patti is sublime. She refuses to put up with his crap and even takes a few Jim from The Office-like moments to look at the camera, asking “is this guy for real?” with her blue eyes.

Unfortunately, while all the characters in the game are memorable (yes, even you, The Mirror), when you actually start playing the game, it all starts to fall apart.

I’m no frame rate expert. Frankly, as long as it’s consistent, I don’t really care for most games. That said, calling Deadly Premonition 2’s framerate smooth is like calling games with randomized loot boxes a fun form of “surprise mechanics.” It’s just an outright lie.

In the main overworld, the game chugs like a stay-at-home mom whose son just dropped out of college and has taken up binge-drinking boxed wine. I can make that joke because I dropped out for a year before going back to finish. Except, I was the one drinking, not my mom.

“As a foil to York’s oddball behavior, Patti is sublime.”

Anyways, don’t expect technical brilliance. Even expecting technical competency is a big ask. But, does any of that matter when you can skate around the beautiful town of Le Carre in 15fps or less?

The answer is absolutely not. See, Deadly Premonition 2 might not understand what framerate is, but it does understand fun. And, to that end, Swery and his team have replaced the boring driving from the original game with skateboarding.

That’s right, friends. York’s rented hybrid card was stolen during his trip to Le Carre and, in its place, he’s become a true “Sk8er Boi.” At first, all he can do is ride around, but, once you meet your very own Mr. Miyagi in Emma, you’ll quickly learn the “FORBIDDEN ARTS” of skateboarding. Basically, you’re going to become an impossible-landing machine. It’s super rad.

At least, it (and the rest of the game with it) is as long as it’s working. We talked about Deadly Premonition 2’s frame rate, but that was only the tip of the iceberg. Expect to run into several bugs. The game only hard crashed on me once, but, like a jealous former lover, it teased me all the time. Load times in Deadly Premonition 2 are apparently something the game thinks you should savor.

They’re incredibly long and sometimes you’re just looking at a black screen for 10 minutes wondering if you Switch exploded on the inside from running this Xbox 360-looking game. Additionally, I also ran into several soft locks during my playthrough. Basically, what happens is randomly your buttons stop working. You can’t shoot bad guys. You can’t run. Heck, you can’t even skate. Truly, it’s the worst timeline.

That first problem will really hurt you, though. If you can’t shoot, you can’t fight off bad guys in the game’s dungeons. This means you have no choice except to load back to a checkpoint.

Speaking of the dungeon, imagine you’re playing a Persona game. The only difference is that, in place of deep rock-paper-scissors RPG combat, you’re shooting enemies in the face. The best you can say about it is that it’s so easy, you barely have to think about it.

Seriously, I don’t think I used a health pack until the last boss. At the end of the game, I had well over 100 healing items, and it wasn’t because I was being stingy. Personally, I didn’t really mind. The story and characters were the reason to play. However, if you’re looking for good gameplay, this ain’t it.

“Like a good book, the story is a page-turner.”

Deadly Premonition 2’s often bonkers story is full of heart. If you asked me to tell you exactly what happens, I’d be hard-pressed to tell you. However, what I will say is that I was glued to the TV throughout the game.  Like a good book, the story is a page-turner. I’m just not completely sure if the total tale makes sense or not.

To me, it’s an exploration of a man who lost everything and is trying to get it back. It’s also about a man who is willing to follow any possibility in his search for the truth. And lastly, it’s about RED TREES. I’m sure that last line means something to a small number of you.

But, while the main story is a bit of a wild one, I can say one thing with absolute certainty; In his time in Le Carre, York has developed an obsession with bridges. I know this because he’s told me that somewhere in the neighborhood of 150 times.

See, while the cutscenes are mostly great, York only has 15-20 stories that he tells while you’re exploring the town. And he’s going to tell them to you over and over again. If you wanted to hear York wax poetically about Charles Bronson’s name, you’re in luck. He’ll be doing that a lot.

Deadly Premonition 2 is a test of how much crap you can put up with for one of my favorite experiences in this generation of video games. It’s like if a chef brought you the finest crab in the world, but to eat it you have to crack open the shells with your toes while getting mud thrown at your face and being forced to listen to your least favorite song play over-and-over again. At some point, you have to ask yourself, is the crab really worth it?

For me, the answer is a resounding yes. I don’t know if Deadly Premonition 2 will end the year ranked as the best game of 2020 in the annals of DualShockers’ history, but it will probably be my favorite one.

“Deadly Premonition 2 just wants to tell its story, tell it well, and be its own weird, little self.”

The game actually provides one of the best analogies I think of to describe itself. York is a student of cinema. He can tell you the director and year of release for almost any film in existence. However, he’s never heard of E.T., a seminal movie in film history.

Only crazy people and children haven’t heard of E.T. You might not like it, but you’ve heard of it. You probably know the story. You’ve certainly heard about him phoning home. But York hasn’t. He’s too focused on Scatman Crothers’ performance in The Shining to pay attention to that popcorn movie. He doesn’t have time for your summer blockbusters.

Imagine a man who not only hasn’t seen a Marvel movie in 2020, but hasn’t even heard of them. That’s York. He’d see a poster for The Avengers and be like, “This masked man in red, white, and blue tights reminds me of Simon Wincer’s 1996 film The Phantom starring Billy Zane and Kristy Swanson.” And then you’d have to hear him talk about it lovingly for five minutes, while some great smooth jazz plays in the background. Did I mention the music rules? But, like every other aspect of Deadly Premonition 2, that has to come with a caveat. Because, just like the first game, the audio mixing is all over the place.

Anyways, Deadly Premonition 2 is exactly the same. It’s a game that feels like it has never played any games released after the original. It doesn’t care about frame rate or good controls. It’s made a few changes to the overall formula but mostly casts aside the advances game design has made in the last ten years. Deadly Premonition 2 just wants to tell its story, tell it well, and be its own weird, little self. Your ability to either live with that or not will determine how deeply you fall in love with the citizens of Le Carre.

July 8, 2020 9:00 AM EST

from EnterGamingXP https://entergamingxp.com/2020/07/a-blessing-in-disguise-review-always-trust-the-pizza-zach/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=a-blessing-in-disguise-review-always-trust-the-pizza-zach

[winningpaths-blog]

The Anointing of Prophets and Righteous Men

...many prophets and righteous men have desired to see those things…

Matthew 13:17

Jesus was the anointing that many prophets and righteous men had desired to see. He was the great anointing expected for centuries by the Jews. He was called Christ, the Anointed One.

Yet, the people could not receive from this great gift. What is it that kept them from the power that was walking around in Jerusalem? What was it that blinded their eyes from seeing the anointing when it was right in front of them?

Here was the anointing that many prophets and righteous men had hoped for and they could neither recognize nor receive it. Is it possible that there are great anointings near us that we are neither able to recognize nor receive?

In this chapter, I am going to share with you seven steps that Jesus spoke about. These steps would have caused the people of His day to experience that great anointing.

These same steps will lead you to receive powerful gifts and anointings that God has for you. There is no point in having great anointings near you and not being able to access them.

You can be anointed! You can receive it too. God's will shall be done and the anointing will come through to you!

These seven steps begin with Jesus explaining how God sovereignly chooses who is to receive of the mysteries of God and end when conversion and healing come to the soul.

Step 1: To Be Divinely Chosen for the Anointing

… it is given unto you to know the mysteries of the kingdom of heaven, but to them it is not given.

Matthew 13:11

It is important to recognize that the anointing is a divine gift. Inasmuch as we are sharing some steps to receiving this anointing, it is not something anyone can just work up. It is God's choice to give you the anointing or not.

Step 2: To Have Some Anointing

For whosoever hath, to him shall be given, and he shall have more abundance: but whosoever hath not, from him shall be taken away even that he hath.

Matthew 13:12

One of the most encouraging realities is to know that if you already have some anointing, you become a candidate to receive even more. Over and over in the Scripture, it is shown that if you have some gift you are a candidate for more.

If you perceive that God has given you a gift, please open your heart to receive more because that is the law of the kingdom. This must be very encouraging to anyone who is in the ministry.

If you are a pastor, you could receive a higher anointing for a greater ministry. If you have dreams and visions, you are more likely to receive even greater revelations. So press on and expect more power to be available to you.

Step 3: To Be Able to See What You Must See

But blessed are your eyes, for they see: and your ears, for they hear.

Matthew 13:16

The third step to the anointing is to have eyes that can see. Sometimes, I would ask, “Did you see Sister Comfort?” and the answer would be, “Was she the one with long curly hair in the red and mauve silk scarf?”

And I would say, “What was that?”

I surely saw Sister Comfort but I would not remember what hair she had nor whether she had a scarf on.

You see, everybody's eyes see different things. When someone stands to minister, some people see a doctor ministering. Others see a tall, dark preacher. Others see an unmarried man and a potential husband. Still others see an educated person in action. But, very few people see what they should really see.

It is important to see and recognize the anointing when it is at work.

One day, I encouraged a sister to serve God in full-time ministry.

After talking to her for hours, she stared at me blandly and remarked, “Pastor, my family does not have as much money as yours.”

"I am not like you," she said. "If I do not work in the secular world, I will not be able to survive." I was taken aback. I realized that all this lady could see was my father's wealth. She could not see the anointing or the grace of God at work. Unfortunately, her inability to see God's power and not my father's money prevented her from coming towards the anointing.

Perhaps this is the greatest blockade to receiving the anointing. When you see someone, there is often an aspect of the person that your eyes settle on. You may see his wealth, his background, his education, his kindness, his wisdom, his love, his car, his house, and the list goes on. Some people only look at his wife. Some only analyze the kind of person he has married.

One Sunday, one of my pastors introduced me to his church. Somehow, I always remember that particular introduction. He introduced me as an anointed person! He said he had realized that there was a very strong anointing on my life that supernaturally affected people.

He spoke about how the anointing on me had supernaturally affected him. He did not speak about how many churches I had built nor how many sermons I had preached. He did not say where he met me or how kind I was. He just spoke about the anointing and I realized that his eyes were trained on something invisible that was both spiritual and eternal.

What you see will greatly determine what you will ultimately receive.

Step 4: To Be Able to Hear What You Must Hear

…their ears are dull of hearing, and their eyes they have closed...

Matthew 13:15

Once again, as people listen to you they all hear different things. The first thing most people hear is your accent. If it is the wrong accent, they will not hear the powerful words of life that you speak.

Others only hear the correctness of the grammar and your choice of words. Some people hear the stories that you tell and others remember only the jokes!

Still others hear the principles and the Scriptures that you share. And yet, there are some who hear things that are beyond any of these.

They hear the Spirit speaking! They receive wisdom from the Holy Spirit! Some receive life changing guidance from the Holy Spirit! Somehow, everybody hears differently! Jesus knew that people were hearing differently and that is why He said, “...Hearing they cannot hear.” May your ears hear what they must hear! If you begin to hear correctly, you will come closer to the anointing that prophets and anointed men desire.

Step 5: To Be Able to Understand

…and shall not understand; and seeing ye shall see, and shall not perceive:

Matthew 13:14

Many people have difficulty in understanding issues. This becomes a great barrier to receiving anything. Such people cannot have a peaceful marriage. They never understand issues, no matter how it is explained and how many illustrations are used.

There is no point counselling such people as their minds are made up already. The Scripture is clear, “...with all thy getting get understanding” (Proverbs 4:7). Understanding what is being said is crucial to the anointing passing through the barrier of your mind and entering your spirit.

When you lack understanding, your mind forms a blockade that cuts out the Word of God and all its attendant blessings.

How difficult it is to be married to someone who does not understand issues. This person (man or woman) never agrees to anything, never says yes, never says no, never bends, never yields, never gives in, never sees the point, never flows, and ultimately never understands!!

May God touch your understanding that you may see and know the greatness of the anointing that is near you.

Step 6: To Understand with the Heart

...and should understand with their heart…

Matthew 13:15

There is yet a higher level of understanding. This is the place of understanding issues with the heart. When a person understands with his heart, there is no need for extensive explanation. To understand with the heart means to have a depth of revelation that takes away the need for numerous discussions, meetings, demonstrations of data and statistical analysis.

When someone understands with the heart, at the beginning of the discussion, he would say something like, “I understand.” “Don't bother to explain.” “I will sort it out.” “Just leave it to me.”

What a blessing it is to have people who understand with the heart.

Many times, the man of God cannot explain everything that is going on. He may not even be able to describe everything that he is feeling. He needs people who are in tune with him and who understand with their hearts.

When you begin to understand God with your heart, you are getting nearer to your conversion, your healing and your anointing!

Step 7: To Be Converted

For this people's heart is waxed gross, and their ears are dull of hearing, and their eyes they have closed; lest at any time they should see with their eyes, and hear with their ears, and should understand with their heart, AND SHOULD BE CONVERTED, AND I SHOULD HEAL THEM.

Matthew 13:15

The final step towards the anointing that even prophets and righteous men desire is to be converted (to change).

Ultimately, God is changing us into His image. Everyone who becomes anointed has been worked upon and has undergone various “conversions”.

The Scripture above shows that a change is required before the healing “anointing” comes. Much change is required to carry the grace of God. The vessel must change! Your life must be completely transformed if you are to receive the anointing.

by Dag Heward-Mills

[vileart]

What I Know about Dramaturgy: Sonia Gardes @ Village Storytelling Festival

Sonia Gardes presents

What I Know About What My Grandfather Didn't Know 

a brand new commission created especially for the Village Storytelling Festival. 

When political disagreements with her whole family became the centre of her life, Sònia started wondering about that mysterious figure in the story of the family who had gone on exile 80 years ago and who nobody talks about.

What was the inspiration for this performance?

There were some artistic inspirations and some practical facts which all of them together eventually took me to develop this performance.

Firstly, the performance "Ragazzo", by Lali Álvarez and Oriol Pla was a very deep inspirational experience on how to approach political stories about police brutality and those who daily fight back from a point of view which helps any kind of audience empathise and connect with the issue and those who support it.

Secondly, tired of my accent to be an issue, I was really looking forward to develop a performance where it would not only not be a problem, but actually an artistic plus to the story. I don't think it is necessary to have a story happening in Spain for this to happen, though.

While these two more artistic facts influenced what my next project could be like, there was the personal need to research about my Great-Grandfather, as it is explained in the performance. Even though Franco died more than forty years ago, and the Spanish Civil War happened eighty years ago, the law for historical memory is just ten years old, and my generation is being the first or second one feeling still close enough to need answers and emotionally far enough to find them.

The performance includes many other contemporary topics such as how do we as a society welcome refugees, and which are the long term consequences of not doing so.

Is performance still a good space for the public discussion of ideas? 

Yes, definitely. Not the only one, but it is a really good one. Performance doesn't present only an idea or a story, it can present the emotion that makes that idea happen and it can awaken it in people who haven't felt it. The experiential potential of performance is a very powerful tool for that. 

It helps creating bonds based on empathy, and in a world where discussions many times become about proving one's right, it offers a comfortable space to sit down, listen and experience, without anyone judging how you feel about it. After this emotional experience, opening a discussion can have such a different result.

How did you become interested in making performance?

Performance has been in my life from a very young age. As a child, my mum would take my brother and me constantly to see children's theatre, and the three of us loved watching puppets. We also had loads of puppets at home to play with.

As I grew up, I loved going to the theatre and how it would touch me. However, I never wanted to perform. Looking back now, I'm pretty sure that gender restrictions from growing up in a small town where being a visible woman was not well seen had a lot to do with that.

What I did instead was being interested in anything in theatre which would be the invisible work. I studied make-up and hairstyle for theatre, and also costume design and making. In Fine Arts I specialised in sculpture for theatre and giant puppets. 

And in my first professional years in Barcelona I was finding work successfully.

It wasn't until I came to Scotland and lost my safe network that I started considering creating my own work. I had been very active politically, and I had been working with children as well for a long time, so I became interested in developing those ideas and values for children's performance. 

After that, I started becoming more interested in developing adult work, and that's when the project "What I know about what my Grandfather didn't know" started.

Is there any particular approach to the making of the show?

The performance is a commission for the Village Storytelling Festival, and therefore it is designed as a storytelling performance. However, my background as a visual artist and performance designer always ends up appearing.

Since there are so many images that are important to the story I started developing the introduction of life-streamed projections and collage. Gavin Glover has helped me in the process. He's an amazing creative person, and it has been a really inspiring experience.

Does the show fit with your usual productions?

It does in terms of topic. It fits with the values and topics that have appeared previously. However, it is the first time I do it for adults, so there is a big jump in the way I have approached certain aspects of it. The rhythm is very different as well.

I have also explored very new ways of developing visual arts and visual communication. So I would say it is very new exciting work to me.

What do you hope that the audience will experience?

I want the audience to connect with the personal experience of a refugee and the impact this choice of survival has in others, specially relatives. I would like them to become more interested in their own past and the importance of historical memory through listening to my discoveries.

And of course the importance of being the ones writing our own history through listening to our survivors, because if we trust those who are writing history we might get a very perverse and confusing point of view. Ultimately, the performance is a shout for hope, which we so much need at the moment.

What strategies did you consider towards shaping this audience experience?

The introduction of silence to the story has been a key element for that. Communicating through images and giving some time to the audience to connect with their feelings and not only with the verbal information they are being given is a key aspect of it. Collage plays a big role doing it. When doing collage, we are building a fantasy, through merging realities. 

And fantasies tell us so much about fears, hopes and frustrations. Music also plays an important role creating atmospheres and time for the audience to connect to what they have been experiencing.

Considering the audience socially and culturally was another important thing to do. Scotland and Catalonia are territories with many similarities, yet still different territories with different stories and experiences. It has been very interesting to think of a story which has so much of the common cultural knowledge in the history from where I was born adapted to somewhere which has its own history and doesn't necessarily know mine.

from the vileblog http://ift.tt/2t6xT8s