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noladyme · 3 years

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La Cuervo - Chapter 25

She is used to the biker-life, having grown into a woman in the familiar embrace of SAMCRO. A bad decision and a gun-shot later, she gets whisked off to Santo Padre, and put under the protection of another club. What is supposed to be a short stint in the Mayan headquarters just north of the border to Mexico, turns into something more; when la quervo begins to develop feelings for el angel - and he seems to return them in kind...

TW: violence, blood, drug use, alcohol, smut, fluff, angst

In the spirit of "The Crown Princess of Charming", this is a story about O.C. Nina and Angel Reyes. It is obviously non-canon, as characters who have passed on, on Mayans M.C., are present in it, and others have been excluded completely. Nina is written as a cis-female, but I have tried to keep her race and looks as ambiguous as possible. Should you find any of this story offensive, please let me know.

25.

After their middle of the night conversation and subsequent make-up sex, Nina and Angel got a few hours of sleep.

The sound of the birds in the tree outside, and a hard knocking on the front door, woke Nina up. Turning her head, she saw that Angel was still sound asleep, with Bug nuzzled up in the crook of his neck. Finding the sight too adorable to disturb, Nina quietly crawled out of bed, and put on her sleeping shorts, and one of Angel’s shirts. Putting a bit more weight on her pained leg than she’d been able to a few days earlier, she made her way to the front door, and looked out the peep hole; before opening.

“Good morning”, EZ said; holding up two paper cups of coffee. “He’s still sleeping”, Nina said, and moved so he could enter. “In the bed?”, EZ asked disbelievingly. “He told you…”, she muttered. “He’s my brother. He told me you guys weren’t doing so good… But, you’re better now?”. “We’re working on it”, Nina shrugged. “I’ll go get him, so you can give him that”. She nodded towards the coffee. “No, this is for you”. EZ held out a cup for her, and she took it confusedly.

She limped over to sit on the couch, and lit one of the cigarettes from Angel’s pack. Bug slipped out through the crack of the bedroom door, and when he saw EZ, he hissed. “What the hell is that?”, the prospect asked. “Bug… Her cat”, Angel grunted, as he came out after the cat; rubbing his eyes. He’d taken time to put on sweatpants and a beater. “Our cat”, Nina reiterated. “It looks… sick”, EZ said, giving Bug’s one and a half ear and skinny body a hesitant look. Angel walked over, and gave the cat a quick scratch behind the ears. “He’s a fighter”, he said, and went over to sit down next to Nina.

EZ sat down on the recliner, and looked down at his own coffee. “I would have gotten you one, but I didn’t know if you’d already left”, he muttered at Angel. “It’s good bro”, Angel said, and nabbed Nina’s cigarette. The prospect gave Nina a half smile. “It was kind of a peace-offering. You’ve been staying away from the clubhouse”. “I’m not mad at you”, Nina said. “I’m just… I don’t know if I’m ready to face Bishop and Taza”. “Taza hasn’t been around either”, Angel said. “You guys didn’t… He’s ok, right?”, Nina asked worriedly. She was angry, but she didn’t want Taza hurt. “We haven’t done anything to him… But we have a vote later today”, Angel said. “We need to decide whether he and Bish’ are keeping their posts”. “Why?”, Nina guffawed. “Because they went behind the club’s back; pulling that shit with you and Palo”, Angel said. “Bishop has stepped down temporarily, until we decide what to do. He’s been around, but Tranq’s taken the head of the table for now… He ain’t president material, though”. “And Taza?”, Nina said. “If we vote Bish’ back in, I’m guessing he’s gonna want him back as VP… If we let Taza come back at all”, Angel said.

EZ took a sip of his coffee, and leaned forwards; giving his brother a hesitant look. “Where do you stand on all that?”. Angel took a deep draw from the cigarette, and blew out the smoke while shaking his head. “I’m not sure, man…”, he admitted. “As prez’ and VP, I didn’t ever have a problem with them before. But they lied to the club… And this shit was personal to me. They put Nina in danger”. “You don’t have a problem with Taza being…”, EZ said, trailing off. “It’s called gay… homosexual… He likes men. You can say it”, Nina scolded him. “Yeah, I can say it…!”, EZ exclaimed. “It’s just one of those rules I’ve had trouble dealing with. I follow the club on a lot of things; but that…”. Nina gave him slight smile; happy that he felt like she did. “I don’t have a problem with that”, Angel shrugged. “No one should”.

Taking sip from the cup, Nina then traded Angel the coffee for the cigarette. She took a deep drag, before stubbing it out. “Well, it looks like you have stuff to do today”, she said. “I guess me and Bug will just hang out here”. The cat came over to brush against her good leg. He’d been good with leaving the pained one alone. “Hank wants you at the clubhouse…”, EZ muttered, giving her a hesitant look. “He sent me to get you… We didn’t know if you and Angel were talking”. Nina sighed. “I don’t know… EZ, all that shit that went down…”. “That’s why he wants you there”, EZ said. “He wants the club to hear your side, before they take the vote”.

Looking up to meet Angel’s eyes, Nina found nothing but warmth and support in them. “I’m not gonna make you do anything. It’s up to you, ma’”. She took the cup from him, and emptied it; before getting to her feet. “I’m gonna need more coffee…”, she grunted, and limped in to the bedroom to get dressed.

---

The scrapyard seemed like a completely different place to the last time Nina had been there. There was tension in the air, as EZ and Angel – with Nina behind him – rode up to the clubhouse. Chucky gave her slight wave from the front office, when they passed it.

Coco and Gilly came down from the porch to greet them as they arrived, and Nina gave both of them a warm hug. “Are you ok?”, she asked. “I know there was at least some fighting the other day…”. “We’re good, niña”, Coco said. “How’s the leg?”. “Much better”, Nina said. Letting Angel put his arm around her waist, they all walked up to the porch, and into the clubhouse together.

Inside, the rest of the charter – except for Taza – were spread throughout the room. Bishop sat alone by a table in the corner; and gave her short look. He almost looked embarrassed. Hank walked straight up to Nina, and put a hand on her shoulder. “Thanks for coming”, he said warmly. “We need your take on all this”. “I don’t know what you want me to say… I’m not happy about what happened”, Nina said. “We just need you to be honest”, Riz said, having come over to join them. “Shouldn’t come as a problem…”, Creeper muttered sarcastically, and stubbed out his cigarette. Nina frowned confusedly in his direction. “Where are we doing this?”, Angel asked. “Templo…”, Hank said. “And we should get to it. We got Reaper incoming soon”. Nina swallowed thickly. Being in the room with Bishop was hard enough, but having to face Filip was something she hadn’t been prepared for. “It’ll be ok, cuervo”, Angel said below his breath. The nickname struck her as odd at the moment, but Nina decided against challenging him on it; and simply let him lead her into templo. EZ stayed behind in the bar area, looking worried, and prepared for anything to happen.

Letting his hand brush against his usual chair, Hank went to sit at the head of the table. He looked very uncomfortable with his current station. “Please…”, he said, and gestured for Nina to take the seat at the other end of the table. The rest of the Mayans took to their own seats; with Bishop taking the one furthest from his regular seat. This meant he sat just around the corner of the table from Nina, making her unable to ignore him. Angel shot her a comforting smile, before looking to his temporary president.

Seemingly waiting for someone else to begin, Hank finally realized that was his job; and cleared his throat. “I guess… we should get started”, he said. “Nina; thanks for coming. I asked the prospect to bring you, because we have an important vote coming up; but we need to know what to base our decision on”. Riz let Hank out of his misery, by taking over. “We already heard from Bishop. He let us know that you weren’t aware of his and Taza’s decision to go behind our backs…” “Yeah, they behind our backs, but so did she…”, Creeper interrupted. He looked hard at Nina. “You might not have known the real plan, but you went against the club’s decision; and snuck off to do your own shit”. “Sure, but she’s not a member of the club”, Gilly said. “Pretty damn close”, Creeper said.

Angel looked at Creeper; the promise of a serious beating almost written in neon over his head. “What are you trying to say? You wanna punish her?”, he said. “I didn’t bring her here to get…”. “I’m just telling it like it is”, Creeper said. “Nina tricked me in to letting her sneak away”. Bishop chuckled slightly. “Maybe you shouldn’t be so easily tricked…”, he said. “Careful, Bishop”, Riz said. “You’re the one on trial here, and Creep isn’t wrong”. Nina threw up her hands, and sighed. “Why don’t you just get to it then. Punch me around, and degrade me to toilet-cleaner. I’ve been through much worse lately!”. “Everyone calm down!”, Hank said. “Nina, you did go against the club. You broke our trust…”. “At the time, you didn’t even know Bishop was in on it; so, on top of that, you went against the president’s direct orders”, Riz said. Creeper nodded in agreement.

“Ok”, Nina said. Every face at the table turned to her. “What? You wanted me to apologize? I was trying to save your asses”. “Technically, she did”, Coco said. He grabbed a cigarette from his back and lit it; before sliding both the pack and his lighter down the table to Nina. She took one of the smokes, and lit it; sending Coco a slight smile. “If we’d gone to war with VM… fuck”, Coco said, visibly shuddering. “We voted for war”, Creeper said. “You didn’t seem like that’s what you wanted at the time…”, Gilly said. “But that’s how this shit works!”, Creeper said. “This club is a democracy…”. “El Padrino was in on it”, Angel said. “At the end of the day…”. “He doesn’t call the shots here”, Riz said.

Nina took a deep drag of her cigarette. “Riz… I’m sorry you’re angry that I went against the club by going with Taza. I’m not gonna apologize for actually doing it, though. If the plan he told me about had worked out, it would have been the best move for your club. That’s a fact you can’t deny”. Unable to come up with a reply, Riz shrugged in something resembling agreement. “It didn’t work out, though”, Creeper said. “That’s not my fault”, Nina retorted. “And honestly, I think your butthurt mostly has to do with the fact that another woman managed to trick you”. “Nina…”, Angel said warily. Creeper’s expression grew saddened. “If you’re talking about Camille, you’re right. She got to me. But that was just a fling with a hangaround…”. His brows furrowed, and he shook his head defeatedly. “You’re family… You were supposed to have our back… My back. Not lie to me”. Nina swallowed thickly, feeling choked and ashamed. “You’re right… I’m sorry for lying. I don’t want you to feel like you can’t trust me anymore; but I understand it”. She sighed deeply. “I’ll take whatever punishment the club decides to give me”. “There won’t be no punishment”, Angel said. “If there is, I’m out of here”. “Angel!”, Nina exclaimed. “Nah, mami… They ain’t touching you”.

“We’re not going to punish Nina”, Hank declared. “She’s right. Taza’s fake plan would have been a good move; and she did what she did to help the club. She wasn’t a part of the official vote, and she’s not a patch. She doesn’t owe us to follow orders; and she didn’t owe us to try to help the way she did”. He looked deep into Nina’s eyes. “You risked your life for the MC… Thank you”. Angel relaxed in his seat. “I get what you’re saying, but…”, Creeper began. Hank slammed his fist into the table. He looked angrier than Nina had ever seen him; but then again, digging through her memories, she’d never seen him angry. “I’ll be happy to take it to a vote; but even with Angel stepping out for being biased, it still looks like punishment will be off the table”. Creeper raised his hands in defeat, and leaned back in his seat.

“If no one else has anything to say, then let’s get to why we’re here”, Hank said. “Nina, what’s your view on what happened the other day?”. Nina took another drag of her cigarette. “Taza called. He said he had a way of avoiding a full-blown war, and asked me to meet him; so we could go see Palo”. “Did you know he’d told Palo that he would hand you over?”, Riz asked. “Yes…”, Nina said, meeting Angel’s eyes for a short second. Anger ghosted his face, but he held his tongue. “He told me we’d be able to reason with Palo, and I thought so too. He seemed about to go for it as well, but… He said he wanted his pound of flesh; and that’s when they brought in Angel”. “Which wouldn’t have happened if…”, Bishop began. “Fuck you, Bish’!”, Angel said. “You ain’t president right now. I’d be happy to show you around the cage…”. “Angel!”, Hank said. “Nina, please…”. “Palo wanted me to shoot Angel, but Bishop and the rest of them arrived in time to…”. She couldn’t finish the sentence; feeling tears welling up. “Taza killed Palo, and that was it”, she finished, and wiped her eyes. “And how do you feel about being lied to about what the real plan was?”, Riz asked. “Come on, Riz…”, Coco said. “I’m not trying to stir shit up, man”, Riz said. “We asked her to come here, to tell us about her experience with all this”. “Yeah, but this ain’t Oprah”, Gilly said. “It’s fine… I’ll answer”, Nina said. “I feel like shit. My decision to go with Taza on this, was based on me not wanting anyone else to get hurt… But Sala was shot, and Palo’s neck was slit right in front of me”. She stubbed out her cigarette. “I might be safe from VM and Palo, but it came at the cost of even more lives… Daniella; Camille; Sala; Palo… Those were all because of me, and what I did to Gael in that alley two months ago…”.

Self-hatred washed over her, and she got her feet. “I don’t think you should punish Bishop, or kick Taza out of the MC… All of this is my fault. I’m sorry I came here and messed up your club”. Ignoring the pain in her leg, Nina stormed out of templo. EZ and Chucky – who’d come in to the clubhouse, while she was in templo – gave her confused looks, as she ran out of the clubhouse, and slammed the door shut behind her. She sat down on the stairs, and buried her face in her hands, letting her tears fall.

The door opened and closed behind her, and she looked up; confused to see Creeper sit down next to her. “This isn’t your fault, Nina”, he said. “I thought you were pissed at me…”. “I was… I am. But not because I think you’re to blame for all this. You worried me… us. Putting yourself in danger like that…”. He sighed deeply. “The thing about you going behind our backs… You’re a part of the family. I expected you to act like a patch; but that’s not fair. We won’t let you wear a cut, so I can’t assume that you’ll act like you are”. “I’m sorry for tricking you”, Nina croaked. “I should never have come here… You lost your president, your VP… You almost went in to full on war!”. Creeper put his arm around Nina’s shoulders. “We haven’t decided on Bishop and Taza yet”, he said. “And war with the Vatos has been under way for a long time. Even before you got here”.

Nina sighed, and looked intently at Creeper. “Don’t punish Bishop and Taza. Don’t take away their flashes”, she said. “They had to make a quick decision; and they wouldn’t have done it if they didn’t think they were doing what was best for the MC… Just because they’re leaders, doesn’t mean they’re infallible. Give them a chance”. Creeper narrowed his eyes at her. “I know Angel said you were smart; but that was almost sage wisdom”, he smirked. “Where do you get it from?”. Nina let out a soft laugh, and wiped her eyes. “I knew a guy who had to make a lot of hard decisions”, she said. “Some of them were really shitty, but they all came from a place of love for his club and his family”. Creeper pressed a kiss to her forehead; then got to his feet, and helped Nina up to stand. “I’ll tell them what you said”, he smiled. “But I won’t use words like infallible. I don’t think half of them know what that means”. There was the sound of glass shattering from inside the clubhouse. “You should get back inside. Gilly’s physically holding Angel down in there”.

He supported her weight back to the door, and opened it for her. Chucky was sweeping up a broken beer bottle, and Angel was struggling to get free from Gilly’s grasp on his arms. Nina walked over to him, and as Gilly let him free, Angel wrapped her into his arms. “Are you ok?”, he whispered into her ear. “Yeah… I’m ok”, Nina said. “He…?”. “We’re good. Really”. She got on her toes, and caught his lips in a warm kiss. “Go vote… Make good decisions”. Angel nodded, and stole another kiss from her, before following his brothers back in to templo.

Nina limped over to sit down by a table, and blew out a deep breath. After four days of hiding at the house, eating microwave dinners, and cursing her own inability to cook; she was overjoyed when EZ came over, and placed a Tupperware box in front of her. “Gaby?”, she asked with bated breath. “Uh huh”, EZ smiled. “I’m serious, Ezekiel. I will marry her myself, if you don’t!”. The prospect let out a warm laugh, and sat down next to her, producing two forks. Chucky came over with two cold cokes for them, before going over to count the chairs in the room, for some reason. “Chuck? What are you doing?”, EZ asked. “I need to make sure we have enough seats for the wedding”. Nina laughed, feeling herself brighten up slightly.

They were seated, eating straight out of the box, and trying to keep each other’s moods up, when the door opened, and Taza stepped inside; his cut hung over his arm. He nodded solemnly at them, and walked over to the ornate door of templo; seemingly taking a deep breath before stepping inside, and closing the door behind him again. “What do you think that means?”, Nina muttered. “I don’t know…”, EZ said. “Hopefully it’s good news”. He noticed Nina’s strained expression, and squeezed her shoulder. “Are you ok? I know you’re not happy about how things went down…”. Nina sighed. “You all keep telling me I’m family… But they forced me to be a part of something I was trying so hard to avoid. Is that how you treat kin?”. “If family doesn’t know what’s best for them, then maybe… yeah”, EZ said. “Palo wouldn’t have let you go. You’d be looking over your shoulder for the rest of your life. Hurt feelings; you can get over shit like that. But death is kind of final”. “Maybe… But I wish they’d told me the truth”.

They sat in silence for a long moment. “Is you dad mad at me, for stealing his truck?”, Nina asked quietly. “You parked it by his shop. He was ok”, EZ replied. “Yeah, but…”. “Nina, you make Angel happy; and pap’ sees grandkids in his future”, EZ chuckled. “You can do no wrong in his eyes”. “I’m not pregnant!”. “Not for lack of my brother trying, I’m guessing”, EZ smirked. “We’re not having this conversation!”, Nina said. Ezekiel shrugged in surrender. “Just… If you do make me a tío, don’t let Angel name the baby”. “Why?”. “He named your cat Bug!”, EZ laughed. Nina punched his shoulder. “That was me…”, she pouted.

The door to templo opened, and Hank stepped out, giving them a warm smile. Bishop came out behind him, and they gave each other a warm and very masculine hug. “Thanks for taking the gavel when needed”, Bishop said. “Thanks for taking it back”, Hank smiled. “That chair is uncomfortable”. Nina couldn’t help but smile, and Bishop met her eyes; giving her a half smile in return.

The rest of the Mayans emerged from the room, with Taza coming out lastly; wearing his cut. Nina let out an audible, relieved gasp. Getting to her feet, Angel went over to support her. He let her lean against him, as she walked up to Bishop and Taza. “It looks like we have you to thank for keeping these flashes”, Bishop said. “I think we’ve got more than that to thank you for”, Taza smiled softly. Nina shook her head. “Just… trust your family with the truth in the future. It might be painful, but it’s the better way out”, she said. “Alright”, Bishop said. “Still; thank you…”. Nina grinned at him. “You’re fishing for a hug again, aren’t you…?”. “Yes he is”, Taza said.

Nina put her arms around the president, and hugged him tightly. He gave as good as he got, and turned to whisper in her ear. “I’m sorry, mija…”. “I forgive you”, she replied. Taza was next, and Nina gave him a short kiss on the cheek. “I forgive you too, Scarecrow”. Taza pulled back, and looked down at her. “I’m not that sharp on my Judy Garland, but I’m pretty sure the line is I’ll miss you the most… Are you going somewhere?”. “Nah”, Nina said, and looked around at the faces of her family. “There’s no place like home”.

There was a rumbling of bikes outside, and EZ looked out of the window. “SOA”, he said. Nina took Angel’s hand, and let herself be tucked into his side. “Better break out the Jameson”, she said. “Can’t Chibs drink anything else?”, Angel asked. Nina sighed. “It’s for me…”.

---

Happy, Tig and Rat came through the door, and made a beeline for Nina. It was a clusterhug, that ended with her having to waving her hands in the air, to be allowed to breathe. Once released from their grasp, Nina looked behind them with a confused expression. “Chibs?”, she said quietly. “Outside…”, Tig said. “Did you vote yet?”, Nina asked hesitantly. “What vote?”, Happy asked. “You think we’d take the chance to let Tiggy be president?”. Rat visibly shuddered, and Tig smacked the back of his head; making the younger biker let out a yelp. “We get why he did it”, Tig said. “We didn’t like it, but… He’s not the first SAMCRO president to make decisions behind the club’s back, to protect a family-member”. “That’s what he was doing. You know that”, Happy said. Nina sighed, and began moving towards the door. Rat grabbed her arm to halt her. “Rat, I’m sorry for tricking you, but…”, she began. “No… I get it”, he said. “I just wanted to say; don’t be too hard on him. He loves you”. Nina nodded, and went outside.

Filip was leaning against his bike, when she came down from the porch. “Hi…”, she said quietly. “Hello… I didn’t want to come inside, if you didn’t want me there”, Filip said. “It’s not my house”. “Yes, it is”, he smiled softly. Limping halfway over to him, Filip hurried over to grab Nina’s arm. “Is that leg not doing better?”, he asked. “Yeah. I’m just cutting down on the painkillers”, she said. “Good… That’s smart. But you shouldn’t overexert yourself”.

He led her over to lean against his bike. “How angry are you?”, he asked. “Very… You knew how I felt about the bloodshed… Too many people had died already”, Nina said. “But I understand why you did it. You were trying to protect me”. “I really was, luv’”, Filip sighed. “But it’s like you didn’t respect me enough to make me part of the plan”. “I respected you too much, Nina!”. Filip grabbed her hand, and held it tightly. “You’re too good for decisions like the ones we had to make that day… And what you said about Jax…”. “I shouldn’t have brought him up”, Nina said. “No, you were within your rights to”, Filip said. “But… I think he would have made the same decision, little sister. Anything to keep you safe”.

Sighing deeply, Nina pulled at Filip’s hand, to make him wrap his arms around her. She threw her own arms around his neck. “I love you, big brother…”, she croaked. “But don’t ever lie to me again, or I’ll stab you in the balls with a rusty screwdriver”. “That’s oddly specific”, Filip muttered. “I wanna make sure it’s extra painful”. “Fair enough”.

He kissed her temple, and together they made their way back to the clubhouse.

---

“That’s a long ass ride to take, just to come see me”, Nina said, as she sat on Angel’s lap, surrounded by her SAMCRO brothers. Apparently, the Mayan felt that they’d spent too much time apart in the last four days, and after she came back inside with Filip, he hadn’t left her side. “We never left”, Happy said. “We’ve been staying at Vicky’s… It’s quite comfortable there”, Filip smirked. “Venus good with that?”, Nina asked Tig. “We’ve been doing facetime”, Tig winked at her. “I don’t need any of Vicky’s girls, when I got a woman at home waiting for me”. “You thinking about putting a ring on that?”, Angel asked. “She wants to fully transition first”, Tig shrugged. “I told her, I don’t care, but it’s important to her”.

EZ came over with a tray of shots. “What’s this?”, Rat asked. “Mezcal”, EZ said, and shot a smirk at Nina. “In that case, I’m out”, she said. “Just plain old tequila, then?”, Creeper asked, and set down a full shot glass in front of her. Nina rolled her eyes, and picked up the glass; cheering with the bikers. “It is time for us to go, though”, Filip declared, once he’d finished his drink. “We have a business to run”. “Wouldn’t want the line in front of the shop get too long”, Angel smirked. “People need their ice-cream”. “We do milkshakes too”, Rat smiled brightly. The rest of the Sons laughed at their endearingly naïve brother, and got to their feet.

Saying goodbye was less melancholic this time around. Nina managed to avoid completely soaking Angel’s shirt, as she hid her face against his chest, after waving goodbye to her Charming brothers; when they drove off the lot. Chucky, on the other hand, had to take a few minutes to himself in the garage. Coco went after him, and they emerged moments later, with Chucky wiping his eyes, as Coco muttered encouraging words in his ear.

After they all went back inside, Bishop cleared his throat. “Yo. Listen up”, he barked. “It’s time to get back to business around here. We’ve got a few runs to prepare for, and the yard looks like shit”. “It’s a scrapyard, jefe”, Coco said. “It’s supposed to look that way”. “Let’s take the day off”, Taza said. “We can get back to it tomorrow”. Bishop grunted in agreement, and the Mayans all looked like excited frat boys. Creeper and Gilly got to work, calling in some hangarounds for an impromptu party.

Nina – tears dry, and peaceful at heart – got on her toes, and kissed Angel’s cheek. “You can stay… I’m not really in the mood for partying”, she muttered. Angel snaked an arm around her waist, and brushed his lips against his ear. “Nah… I’ll go with you. The only party I wanna go to, is in your panties”, he hummed. “You’re so eloquent”, Nina chuckled. “So elegant…”, Angel nodded, and squeezed her butt; before quietly leading her out the clubhouse.

---

“Ow!”. “Sorry, mami… Maybe try turning the other way”. “My hair is stuck in the handlebars…”. “There… You’re free”. “Someone might see!”. “No, we’re good… Fuck! Don’t stop moving like that”. “Ok, yeah… Wow… Angel, please…”. “Fuck, yes! Put your foot on the fender… That’s right. Take it!”. “I’m so close… Angel!”. “You gonna come?”. “Uh huh… Holy, shit… Harder!”. “Me too… You feel so good…”. “Yes!”. “Oh fuck… I’m coming…! Ahh… Shit, I love you…”. “Te amo, papi… Wow. That was…”. “Uh huh…! I can’t believe we pulled it off…”. “Yeah… Now we just gotta figure out how to get your bike out of the front door again”.

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To be continued…

tags: @cole-winchester @doloreschanal

#angel reyes #angel reyes fic #angel reyes x oc #angel reyes smut #mayans mc #mayans mc fic #ex reyes #coco cruz #sons of anarchy

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daydream-believin · 4 years

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The Never-Ending Roadtrip (campfire songspell)

Summary: (part 1) Reader has joined Douxie on the quest for Nari’s safety. He’ll need company won’t he? - (part 3) camping and fun fun crush anxiety (part 4)

Warnings: swearing, whole fish-eating, mention of blood, i’ve stopped proofreading shit

Word Count: 3678

a/n: don’t worry there’s no more haunted stuff after this. or missouri. Y/n doesn’t smoke she just feels the need to have a way to set fire to things on her person at all times. a pyromaniac, if you will. also they have been roommates this entire time i just forgot to mention it ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Archie was not happy. He couldn’t believe that Douxie would just ditch him like this. It wasn’t like him. Watch the boat, Archie. We’ll be right back, Archie. That was seven hours ago. A rainstorm had come and gone even. He thought for sure that at least Y/n or Nari would have reminded the other two about his situation. But, no, here he was, soaked to the bone and still alone. In Missouri. In misery. As mad as he was though, he was equal parts worried. It wasn’t like Douxie to just forget about him. Something was wrong.

When he finally caught sight of the rest of the party returning to the ship, Arch breathed a sigh of relief. And then got ready to breath fire. Which he quickly put out, after seeing the looks on the kids’ faces once they got close enough. So something was wrong. They looked as if they’d seen a ghost.

“Are you three alright? What happened?”

“Nothing we didn’t survive. Look, we got the tent.” Douxie held up the box to show Archie. He just flicked his tail in response. “It’s already dark, so we’ll tell you all about it while we set up camp. Alright, Arch?”

Archie rolled his eyes. He still thought this camping thing Douxie was pushing was an awful idea. But he’d let his wizard familiar make his own mistakes. He’d been doing a lot of that lately, or, well, more like nine centuries. Tough love. Young wizards cannot learn until they blow up potions in their faces. And this was going to be one of those times. He’d give it till sunrise. Midnight, even. He’d make a bet with himself, if they give up before sunrise, he’d treat himself to some fresh salmon. If they stubbornly don’t give up until after, a can of tuna.

After taking the boat a way into the wooded area they were hiding in, and answering all Archie’s questions, they picked a good place to settle for the night. Or at least Nari did. Douxie and Y/n were still iffy about it. it wasn’t exactly camping spot nirvana, but Nari really took a liking to the spot and its aura or whatever. Eh, she just kind of sniffed the air and told Douxie to stop. She liked the abundance of plant life here. Lots of roots sticking up from the ground, and little berry bushes. Which was going to make for bad ground to bed down on. But that’s alright, they’ll just cushion it with extra blankets. Extra blankets that they did not have. Or even regular blankets. They had no blankets. Fuzzbuckets.

It was going to be ten degrees out later tonight. Well, Douxie guessed they’d have to go back to that ‘huddle together like penguins’ plan. Which wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, now that he’s thinking about it. Cuddling’s pretty nice. A flush spread across Douxie’s freckles. He’d get to embrace Y/n. Pretend like he couldn’t feel how soft her skin was. Pretend like he totally didn’t want to be holding her, but it was essential to their survival so he had to. Archie and Nari would be there too, snuggling with them, so he could pass it off as platonic. But would he want that. Wouldn’t it just hurt when they let go in the morning. After holding onto her for dear life all night, to just get up and act like nothing happened the next day. Would he recover from that? His blush deepened in color. No, they’ll just have to go make another trip to the store. A different store. Hopefully one that’s free of spirits this time.

But he didn’t need to spend time thinking about cuddling his crush. No, he had to set up camp. Y/n was already building the fire. She was half-way through, by the looks of it, and he was just standing here, staring into the tent instructions, blushing away and not comprehending a thing he had read. In fact, he couldn’t seem to read them now that he was focusing. Oh, look at that, they’ve been in Russian this entire time. His blush turned into an embarrassed one. Not only had he been staring off into space, he had been staring into something he couldn’t even pretend like he was reading. Lovely. He hoped no one noticed. Y/n had. Although, she had just assumed he could in fact read the Russian text and didn’t question it. Perks of being a mysterious immortal being. After barely skimming the instructions he could actually understand, Doux took the tent out of the box, to at least make it seem like he had definitely been reading this whole time and he did have the slightest idea of what he was doing.

Douxie checked back to the instructions, careful to make it look like he was just checking back over it, and not reading it for the first time. He added a head nod to make it convincing. Okay, so he needed to spread out the tent. He got down on his knees and rolled out the large bag of nylon in front of him. It took him a minute to get it to where there weren’t any folds and the shape looked right. As right as a saggy boneless tent could look. Alright, now for the poles. Douxie looked around him and found no poles. Where were the poles? Bleeding balroths, did he buy a tent without poles? Oh, no, it appears they were just still in the box. Ain’t that just the way.

Douxie got to work connecting the tent poles. Thankfully, they were connected by some sort of elastic and he didn’t have to figure out which went with which. He found the eyelets they were supposed to go in on the corners and slipped them in. it was a bit tricky, but he managed. He was glad to be able to have something to do with his hands to get his mind off Y/n. The universe did not let him avoid his thoughts for long, however, since now it was time to raise this bloody tent, which required two people, and Archie and Nari were nowhere to be seen. Of course. Y/n was glad to help him raise the tent. She was glad to hold it while he staked it to the ground. She was glad to do anything with Doux. He just felt guilty for asking.

Finally, their new home was up. For the night anyway. Curious, Y/n opened up the zipper door of the tent. It was small, but cozy nonetheless. She poked her head in to get a better look. Doux followed suit. She turned to him, to make some comment about it, but he didn’t hear a word she said. He was too focused on how her face was incredibly close to his face. Her lips, although in the middle of saying something to him, were right next to his. Could she notice he had been looking at her lips? He prayed she couldn’t notice him looking at her lips. She had. Y/n tilted her head in a gesture. She was asking him a question. Quick, response.

“HAAHAHha yes,,” Douxie panicked.

“Oh, ah, okay.” Y/n ducked back out of the tent. Oh Merlin, what did he just say to her.

***

Y/n spent a significant amount of time trying to light the fire, first with her shitty gas station cigarette lighter, then with some spark spells, when Archie came back and lit it with no problem. Damn dragons, always, breathing fire? He wasn’t around while she was struggling either so he couldn’t have helped her sooner. She was sure she had something to be irritated at him about though. He gets to sleep all day and he doesn’t have to pay bills or wear pants. Yeah, there it was. The smell of woodsmoke filled the air. It was fantastic. Y/n took a deep breath. The fire she had built wasn’t exactly a neat log cabin like she had been taught in girl scouts, but it’d work well enough to cook their dinner and keep them warm. Dinner, what were they even eating? Apparently, the answer to that question was trout that Arch caught in the river and some sort of root that Nari dug up. The roots were a bit strange, but Nari had insisted that they were delicious when roasted. Guess it was time to trust the veggie-lady and pray to the stars that they wouldn’t be spending this night poisoned.

The trout was great, although, whole. Y/n wasn’t sure how she felt about how it was looking at her while she ate it. Yeesh Archie, remove the heads? Don’t cats like to decapitate things? But it was a really good trout. Nice smoky flavor from the fire, seasoned with herbs that Nari picked. Douxie liked it, not seeming to mind the still intact head as much. He ate two. Y/n had no idea how he could fit two whole trout in his stomach but he did just that and ate some of Nari’s roasted tubers too. Speaking of which, they actually weren’t that bad. In fact, Y/n found herself eating quite a lot more of them than she expected. A quick google search revealed that they were something called a fairy spud. Y/n made a mental note to go look for some when she got home. If she got home. Maybe home would be different by the time they were safe from the Order. Maybe they’d make a new home. Of course, they’d have to since Douxie fucking burned down the apartment they shared along with their place of business. Her roommate could be a real dummy sometimes, but that was okay, it was entertaining. And cute. His recklessness was very cute. She’d even call it endearing.

The fire cracked loudly, scaring Y/n out of her revelry. Douxie had also jumped beside her. It was a very loud crack indeed. Archie looked smug. Y/n wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was pride for the trout that he had caught himself. Y/n wasn’t about to pretend to know what went on in an ancient cat-dragon’s head. And she had been taught not to meddle in the affairs of dragons, for she would be quite tasty baked into a blood pie.

She wasn’t sure what was hotter, the fire or her face. Y/n supposed that she was lucky for that fire, to blame on for her flushed cheeks. Douxie was not only sitting beside her, but right beside her. They were just sitting on the still-damp ground, there was plenty of space. He had said something about the smoke being too annoying over on the other side, but that didn’t mean he had to sit so close to her. Not that she didn’t want to be sitting right next to him. She’d focus on the fire, she loved fire. Just focus on the flickers and the popping and the smell. And she couldn’t stop thinking about him next to her. It was just, a little much right now. Too romantic. It was like Douxie and the fucking universe were conspiring to take her out. In both senses of the word. Stars, they were practically all alone out here, sitting by the fire, rubbing shoulders, and oh look at that, he’s got a guitar now.

Douxie had gotten a bit bored just staring into the fire, and desperately needed to distract himself from the fact that he just sat so close to Y/n. Why the hell would he do that. She had noticed, he just knew she had noticed. Time to salvage his pride. What better way to fix all those problems than with some good ol’ fashioned campfire songs? Luckily, he always had a great instrument with him now. Transfiguring his staff, he started to play. He’d stay away from the rock and roll for now since it was literally ten o’clock at night and they didn’t need any park rangers showing up. At first, he just played some classics with the volume turned down, then just practiced some riffs for a while, but once he noticed both Y/n and Nari get noticeably sleepy, he switched to a softer, sweeter melody. His fingers expertly plucked at the guitar strings, and also Y/n’s heartstrings in the process. It was such a beautiful lullaby he was playing. She wished she could hear him play it every night.

Nari was the first to head into the tent for the night. She curled up in one of the corners. Y/n would follow her, but Doux was still playing that lullaby, and she didn’t want to miss a note. It was like it was putting, well, a spell on her. She had a really hard time keeping her eyes open despite her will to keep listening to him, but Douxie picked up on it, stopping to her dismay.

“Come on, Love,” He scooped her up as if she were a child, “Let’s get you to bed,”

He carried her to the tent, but stopped dead in his tracks at the entrance. Fuzzbuckets, he forgot about the no-blanket problem. Archie was going to stay awake and keep the fire going through the night, so the cold was no longer a problem, but the ground was going to be hard and lumpy. Their backs were going to be incredibly sore in the morning. Great. He’d let Y/n use his chest as a pillow. No hidden motives here, it was just chivalry. Once they settled into a comfortable and totally not weird position, they began to enjoy a peaceful night sleep to the sounds of nature. Which lasted half an hour before the tent decided that was enough.

It kept shaking, as if someone or something was assaulting it. But whenever one of them got out to fend off the attacker, no one or thing was out there. And Archie was out there, watching it, and he reported nothing unusual. So, maybe the tent they bought from a haunted store was haunted. Who could have predicted that. Oh well, it’s not like it was that endangering, just annoying. They tried their best to ignore it.

But haunted tent did not like being ignored. That lovely woodsmoke smell shifted into, something strange, like, diet blood? The sickly smell of blood but lighter, gentler, and faint. As if the tent wanted to scare them but wasn’t really into it today. Again, not really that endangering as it was annoying so they elected to ignore that also. Nari didn’t seem to be on board with that decision however, and left to go lay by the fire with Archie. Douxie was acutely aware of the head resting on his chest. He was trying his best to control his heart rate and was failing. There was no way Y/n couldn’t feel it. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could do this. Lady Fortune smiled upon Doux. The tent abruptly collapsed in on them.

***

So plan B was to find an inn for the night. After making sure the fire was out, they headed off into town on foot. It was eerily empty, nothing but the occasional car passing through town, but they were in middle-of-nowhere Missouri. The lack of nightlife at could be excused. It was two in the morning; most townies weren’t out partying. The traffic lights reflected off the pavement. It was odd seeing the lights run with nothing there at the intersection, like they were directing invisible traffic. As if there were ghost cars. Maybe they should just get out of this town actually. And they would have, if they weren’t so exhausted that they felt like zombies. Absolutely knackered.

There were exactly three inns in this dinky little town. One that was very fancy, in which they couldn’t even afford to stay in a broom closet at, one that was run-down and cheap, but full, and the last one, their only available option, which was somehow even more run-down and sketchy than the other. Just looking at the outside of it, it was pretty obviously haunted. Or it could be that the people who worked there were really committed to Halloween decoration and got an early start this year. Yeah. The man at the front desk wasn’t exactly a friendly character either. All in all a bit dodgy. Y/n was getting quite antsy, and not only from the creepy vibe. This was the last-resort inn, and with the other one full, there was a good chance that this one might not have the most ideal rooms available. And she had read enough cheesy fanfiction in her life to know exactly where this was headed.

Sure enough, the gentlemen at the front desk informed them that the only room they had left was in fact that famous room with only one bed. She’d snort if this wasn’t killing her inside. She quickly put up a poker face. Douxie balked at the information, but they were desperate, so he quietly accepted his fate and took the room key. Lady Fortune could be kind of a bitch actually. The journey down the hall was awkward as hell. Nari wasn’t sure what was going on, but she didn’t like the atmosphere. She looked up at Y/n and took her hand. Y/n smiled down at the forest child. Nari didn’t return the smile.

They entered the room and took it all in. The first noticeable thing was the smell. Not blood this time thankfully, but stale dust and mothballs. They could work with mothballs. Nari wasn’t visibly repulsed by mothballs. The carpet was sticky. It’d be best not to think about why. There was that cursed full size bed. The only bed left and it’s not even a queen. Douxie and Y/n weren’t even going to be able to have any distance between them. Douxie took a deep breath. There was a shabby little dresser with a tv from the 70’s perched upon it. You know the ones with the rounded screens, big dials, and bunny ear antennas? Y/n wasn’t even going to try turning that on. She got the feeling whatever was on the local channels was not something she’d want to see. She’d not even check the news station for the weather report. Whatever stories were newsworthy in this town was not something she wished to know about either. There was a small armchair in the corner. The floral fabric was torn, revealing that it had been reupholstered recently. Nari took a liking to it and curled up for the night. Archie joined her and got comfortable. Doux cursed under his breath. He had been counting on Archie staying in the bed with them, to make it less awkward.

Y/n was sitting on the edge of the left side of the bed, dragging her fingers through her hair. Douxie put some protective wards around the door. He’d ward up the windows too, but there weren’t any. It added to the suffocating feeling in his chest. Y/n added some purification spells to keep out any less-physical surprise guests. Walking over to the chair, Doux took off his jacket and laid it over Nari and Arch. They looked cozy. He was glad someone would get a good rest out of this. He was sure Y/n would too. It was just him with this bloody problem. He’s the fool who caught feelings here. He must surely be mad. She finished combing out her hair and snuggled under the covers. Guess it’s time for him to get in too now. In the bed. Next to her. All domestic and such.

It only took but a few seconds before Y/n was out like a light. All that sleepiness and such. Despite being the sleep deprived one here, he was wide awake unlike her. The moment the receptionist had told him there was only one bed left, it was like he took a double shot of espresso. Nervous energy, straight into his veins. He normally wouldn’t sleep like this, stiff as a board on his back, but he wouldn’t dare move. They were so close. She still smelled like the fireside, a welcome change from the staleness of the air, yet still a reminder of just her close she was. It was so quiet in the room, all Douxie could hear was the faint blowing of the vent and the pounding of the drum in his own chest. And her breathing, Merlin, he could hear her breathing. It was so soft. He unconsciously synchronized his own breath to it. He wondered how she looked right now, all cozy and asleep. Surely, she looked adorable. Maybe her hair was in her face. Perhaps she was even drooling. He dared not look over to see.

Lady Fortune cackled. Y/n turned over in her sleep, and latched onto Douxie. Oh fuzzbuckets, bleeding balroths, by Merlin, Mordrax’s miracles, fuck. She wrapped her arms right around his chest and nuzzled into it. His face was fire engine red. Whatever chill left in the air was now gone. Her soft hair was tickling his face. She was obviously still asleep right now, and thought that she was cuddling a pillow, or stuffed animal, or, or whatever she cuddled. What was he supposed to do about this? What the hell was he supposed to do. Did he cuddle back? He wanted to cuddle back. He couldn’t cuddle back. He took a deep, calming breath. He should just try to get her off. After, several attempts however, he realized that wasn’t going to happen without waking her up. And he did not want to wake her. He accepted his fate once again tonight. He could feel both his willpower and consciousness fading. Might as well enjoy these last few moments while they lasted, too. It could quite possibly be the only time he’d ever get to fall asleep next to her. In her tender arms. Getting to not just listen to but also feel her breathe. Truly a bittersweet thing.

***

a/n 2: ha! here you go, not one but two glorious there’s only one bed moments. my rite of passage as a fanfic writer. stay tuned next time for oh my god they were roommates

#douxie x reader #douxie imagine #hisirdoux casperan x reader #hisirdoux x reader #hisirdoux casperan imagine #douxie casperan x reader #douxie casperan imagine #douxie #hisirdoux casperan #douxie casperan #my writing #the never ending roadtrip

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mysterioh · 4 years

Text

The Ignorant Beauty & the Beast of New York - Ch. 21

PAIRING: MOB!STEVE ROGERS X READER

SYNOPSIS: You love biology. The study of life excites you. But you hate people. Especially the ones that like to stick their nose in your business. Too bad the King of Brooklyn didn’t get the memo.

MASTERLIST

A/N: I am so sorry that I wasn’t able to reply to everyone’s comments last chapter. I didn’t have much time and when I did I thought I was too late. I’m really sorry for that, but I want everyone to know that I really appreciated them!

Moonlight Serenade

Your eyes burn from the brightness of your phone.

It’s late, sometime around ten. The notes you were revising were left abandoned on the desk as you retreated into the depths of your bed, buried deep inside the blankets and pillows. You mindlessly wander from one app to another, trying to pass the time and refusing to go to sleep. A ritual you performed every night before falling asleep at an ungodly hour.

You open the messages app. Steve’s contact, decorated with an array of emojis, was at the top, bolded, and with the number “10” next to it.

Of course, he had sent more messages than just ten. These were just the latest that you had decided not to open. You left him on read for the past two days and knew for a fact that he was probably ripping his hair out at this point.

Writhe in your misery, Rogers.

Your finger hovers over his name. It feels good and bad all at the same time. You were too stubborn to admit it, but you missed him dearly.

The aroma of bergamot and olive blossom that came off him when he pulled you in for a hug. The lilt in his voice when he whined for another kiss.

It was the little things about him that you missed the most. That made your heart flutter and feel heavy at the same time.

It’s a foreign sensation. You were no dummy, you knew what it was. You were simply scared out of your mind.

“Maybe I should reply, ” you whispered to yourself then shake your head. “ No, he deserves it, ” you close the app. You swipe through the pages and sigh. “ But I miss him, ” you mumble with a frown. You open the messages app again and stare at his name and the trail of words underneath.

I know I’m stupid, but–

“Yeah, you’re stupid, but so am I, ” you thought. “ Let me call him, ” you go to the call icon in the corner.

“No, he has to call you. Don’t take the first step,” your conscious speaks.

You grumble from your inability to make a decision and slam your phone on the side table face down. You snuggle deeper into the blankets until it’s up to your nose.

“Boys are bad. Sleep is good,” you yawn.

Suddenly, a loud bang comes at the window making you jump out of bed. You stand at the edge of the window and peek at the corner to find a stupidly familiar face. You groan loudly and slide the window up.

“What is wrong with you? Are you trying to break my window?!” you whisper-shouted at him.

Steve gives you a sheepish smile. “Sorry, I have a strong arm, haha.”

You push the window down.

“No wait,” he pleads with an outstretched hand. “Please? Just listen to me this one time?”

You pause and wait for him to speak. He doesn’t say anything. “Well? I’m waiting.”

He stands straight, the streetlight above him casting a shadowed light over him. “How have you been?”

No reply.

“Tough crowd,” he murmurs with a chuckle, before clearing his throat again. “Okay, um, so I’ve never done this before and I’m only going to do it once. So listen closely.”

You roll your eyes at him and cross your arms. “Just get on with it.”

He nods and begins to sing softly. "Oh baby, baby, how was I supposed to know?"

He grows louder, gaining confidence with every word.

"That something wasn't right!"

Your eyes grow wide and jaw drops. A deep red scatters on your cheeks as you stand there dumbfounded. Steve keeps singing, off-tune with every ounce of energy in him. It’s oddly endearing, warming your heart with every note he sings off-key. But it’s not worth waking up the entire apartment complex.

You stick your head out the window "Steve stop! You're gonna get in trouble!" you hiss.

He refuses to listen and continues, really starting to feel the song with his hips.

"Show me how you want it to be. Tell me, baby, cause I need to know now oh because,"

Another window slides up and an old man sticks his head out. "Who the hell is that?" he barks, “Don't make me come down there!"

"Hey, asshole,” a woman shouts, “Shut up before I call the police!”

"My loneliness is killing me!" Steve keeps singing. “And I! I must confess I still believe, ~still believe~.” he screeches.

He’s fearless and shameless.

“Hey, you!” the grouchy woman shouts at you. “Is he yours?”

You cover your face in embarrassment, your face hotter than pepper.

"When I'm not with you I lose my mind,” he points at you. “Give me a sign!” he spreads his arms out. “Hit me, baby, one more time!”

"Steve get your butt up here right now!"

He stops immediately with the dumbest smile on his face. “Really?”

“Quit looking at me dumbass and get up here!”

He nods and runs to the door. After giving your neighbors an apologetic smile, you quickly slam the window shut. You walk over to the door and buzz Steve in. You pace in front of the door, nervously biting your nails. You’ve never been so embarrassed in your entire life. A single knock comes at the door and you swing it wide open.

Your lips twist into a scowl at the sight of him. "You are absolutely, most definitely, the worst–"

Steve cuts you off by slamming his lips onto yours. He holds your heated face in his cold hands. You melt into his arms, your knees grow weak, as he kisses you with every ounce of passion in him.

You push him away gently to catch a breath. "Wow," you whispered breathily.

A pompous grin spreads on his face. "You wanna repeat that, princess?"

You avert your gaze. “I hate you,” you pout.

"Baby, I'm sorry. Please give me another chance?"

"I shouldn't.”

He turns so you’re looking at him. He takes your hands in his. "You should,” he whines, bringing them to his lips. “Haven’t you tortured me enough?”

You break character. You always did when it came to him. "Kiss me like that again and I might reconsider,” you tell him with a smirk.

In a blink of an eye, your back hits the wall softly as Steve takes your lips in a fiery, passionate kiss. Your hands work around his body, sliding over every line of his perfect physique until they wrapped around his neck.

Unexpectedly, his hand drifts to your hips, pulling you closer to him. He began nuzzling your neck with kisses. So faint, they were like whispers. Your breath quickens. Your body grows weak in surrender to him. His head was angled slightly to the side as his lips came closer and closer to yours.

Lips parted, your breath mingled with his. Your heart flutters against your chest.

When he looks at you with his ocean blue eyes, you realize that strange feeling you were so scared of was never something to fear.

Steve was all logic and cool until your skin brushed against his. Then something not only stirred him but overtook his thinking. The only thing that mattered was touching you more, kissing your mouth, worshipping every part of you for all its worth.

When his name escapes your bruised red lips, voice sweet and breathless, laced with desire, Steve realized that you were the half that made him whole.

Sunlight shines through the curtains, rather distractingly.

You grumble softly, covering your face with the sheet and nuzzle your nose into Steve’s bare chest.

“You gonna sleep all day?” he chuckles.

“What’s it to you?” you mumble against him with a frown.

He chuckles. “Damn, did I wear you out that bad?”

You slap him on the chest.

“I was just joking.”

“I don’t like your jokes,” you grumble, turning over to your side.

He follows you, slipping his arm underneath and around you. “Baby,” he nuzzles his nose into the curve of your neck.

“Stevie,” you whine, “I wanna sleep.”

He pulls you closer until your back is taut with his chest. “But it’s almost noon.”

“You got somewhere to be?” you drawled, eyes still closed.

“Just here with you.”

You chuckle lazily. “Then let me sleep?”

Steve huffed. “I’m bored of watching you sleep.”

“You can sleep too.”

“But I don’t wanna sleep.”

You twist your neck over to look at him. “Then what do you want to do?” He gives you a coy grin. “No,” you deadpanned, turning over.

“I’m playing with you, sweetheart,” he chuckles. “Let’s go do something.”

“I prefer my Saturdays in bed.”

Steve groans before falling onto his back and flipping you over with him. “You’re incorrigible,” he mutters, reaching for the pack of cigarettes he left on the bedside table.

You snuggle into his side contentedly, wrapping an arm around his chest. “What’s so wrong with wanting to cuddle with my boyfriend?”

“There’s nothing wrong,” he speaks with a stick in his mouth. He grabs his lighter from the table and lights it, then throws it back. Your finger traces over the tattoo on his chest while he takes a languid puff. “But I thought we’d do something more fun. Something more active. Ya know?”

You turn onto your stomach and look up at him. “You just can’t sit still, can you?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugs with a smug grin, “you managed to tie me down.”

“If I do recall, you were the one chasing after me,” you reply, making him blush hard.

He leans in just a bit and steals another kiss as if he hasn't already kissed you a hundred times through the night. He takes another whiff of his cigarette.

"That's gonna kill you someday," you remarked.

He chuckled. "Been doing it for a while hasn't killed me yet."

"That's because it takes time. It builds and then wham!” you smack him on the chest. He winces in reply. “It hits you when you least expect it."

He rolls his eyes before bringing it to his lips again. "If you say so, Doctor."

You frown. "I'm being serious."

"Have you ever tried it?"

"What? Smoking?" you question incredulously. "No!"

"Here try it.”

"I don't want any of that stuff,” you push his hand away.

"You're not gonna die from one whiff,” he states, “Promise. It won't kill ya."

You look at him warily as he pushes the cigarette into your face. Taking the stick from him, you hold it with your pointer and thumb. You take a slow drag and start coughing instantly. Steve laughs from his belly.

"Yuck!' You coughed.

"It's a bit strong,” he says as he wipes a tear.

"How do you even like this stuff?" You grimaced, waving it around in the air. He goes to grab it from you and you pull your hand away. "Uh, uh, not anymore," you jammed the butt of the cigarette onto the small glass plate on the side table. "Bye-bye smoking."

"You're too much sometimes."

You smiled warmly, smoothing your hands over his chest. "I'm saving your life, moron. You'll thank me later."

He takes your hand in his and kisses the back of it. “What would I do without you? Seriously, I mean it. Meeting you was the best thing that ever happened to me.”

"You're so cheesy," you groaned, cupping his face with your hand. He nuzzles his face into your hand while you brush the pad of your thumb against his cheekbone. His eyelashes flutter as he looks at you with vibrant blue eyes that fill you with the warmth of the sun.

You envied just how pretty was, but at the same time felt so lucky that he was yours.

“I love you.”

It rolls off your tongue softly, so soft that it was barely audible.

“You love me?” he repeats as if he’s scared.

You swallow deeply. It wasn’t supposed to come out just yet.

“I do,” you say, “I mean at least I think I do,” you avert your gaze onto his tattoos. Your finger traces over it again, over every loop and swirl. “Truth is, I don’t really know much about love,” you whisper. “I’ve never received much of it growing up, and I’ve always been trying to run away from it. So I don’t know a lot about it.”

You take his hand in yours. A dry ache begins to form in your throat. “But with you, I don’t feel alone or afraid. The way I’ve felt my entire life. And isn’t that how you’re supposed to feel when you’re with the one you love?”

He nods slowly with a humble smile. “I think it does because I feel the same exact way when I’m with you.”

“I love you, Y/N,” he whispers. It’s only for your ears to hear. “I love you so much.”

His fingers weave into your hair pulling you closer until his lips meet yours in a searing kiss as a promise to always be yours. His other hand goes around your waist pulling you up tighter against him and yours go around his neck. He flips you over and your heart leaps when your back hits the bed.

Everything felt perfect for a moment in time. In the solace of his arms. Under the warmth of the golden morning sun. Only you and him, hidden from the rest of the world.

Every burden gone. Every fear dispelled.

Lazy mornings could never be this perfect.

Taglist (CLOSED):

@ashwarren32 @rootcrop @savedbystark @little-dark-empress @great-goddess-of-sin @boxofteenageideas @imsonick @achishisha @calwitch @chuckennuggets1213 @captainchrisstan @thirstybunz @littlebees-things @voltage-my2dlove @booktease21 @rinkashirikitateku @harleyscheekheart @allegra-writes @eliza5616 @bookgirlunicorn @fckdeusername @illbethethundertoyourlightning @kaetastic @mccrps @undiadeestos @iced-capsicle

Permanent Taglist: @murdermornings @chuckennuggets1213 @miraclesoflove @hailmary-yramliah @andiebell2023 @anjali750 @gabbie-is-sad @drayshadow @vxidnik @ivvitm1109 @myboyfriendgiriboy

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #mob!steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers fluff #mafia steve rogers x reader #mobster!steve rogers #mob au

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midas-or-khaos · 4 years

Text

The Ones Above Us. Chapter 1

Date:- September 30th, 2008, 14 days after initial discovery.

Time:- 18:42 pm

Flicking a cheap Poundland lighter, sparks spat in the morbid matt of a pure black atmosphere out on location in the back arse of nowhere (somewhere far off Ireland’s version of the M6 he’d been told). Winter winds were of the worst kind: didn’t matter how far inland you made it, or how thick the walls on your house were, they traversed the land with albatross wings wide and undaunted by what they came into contact with, smacking into any surface with no regards to slowing down. They didn’t seem to have any regard for detective Arthur Fleming‘s Malboro either, a stiff left hand shaking at the switch, and the right vainly trying to create shelter for the cigarette.

“For FUCK sake.” Singed fingertips for his troubles.

“Serves you right. No smoking on the job detective, you know better.”

Head Forensic Pathologist Fatima Alvi. A 4’9 willowy thing with a short, plump bob, damn near bobblehead proportions and a tendency to get right under his fucking skin like the irritating shit she was. She’d succeeded young and now all that arrogance she hadn’t quite worked out her system from (what should be mandatory in his opinion) the hard labour of working up the social ladder had only boosted her tendency to tighten her favourite black brogues far too tight, straighten her back like a bloody ballerina and fix that rod she’d shoved up her arse however many years ago a little bit deeper.

“I’m ten yards from the sodding site and wrapped in a white, walkable body bag, I think we can both agree me being over here isn’t going to tamper with shit. And not to challenge ur dictatorship, luv, but you’ve got winged lashes big enough to take off under those goggles o’ yours. Now you go back under those useless gazebos, and I’ll happily freeze my arse off out here.” Turning back round to face the empty, Arthur cursed himself for getting a 4 buzz cut rather than a short back and sides a week ago.

Fatima despised this part of the job. Working with middle-aged, greying twats like this one that clearly hated their jobs, but seemed to have this vendetta against the mere mention of career change. Yes, she was aware as you age, getting a new job gets harder. Surprise though, so did being fresh out of uni. Life sends these little tests to fuck us all over, not just you mate. Must be the bitter taste of Thatcher’s rule that’s left him slow to change. Scarred from the days when not having a job meant not eating, full stop. Doesn’t give the trout-mouthed, once-upon-a-time aryan flag pole a reason to snap like Chihuahua.

“Why don’t you stop trying to get your next sad excuse for a hit from nicotine, and come over here and do your actual fucking job?”

“No respect.” Muttered Arthur to himself, giving up on his lost cause and unzipping the top half of his polymer suit to shove the cigarette into his oversized shirt pocket.

Finally the standing misery addressed the stout woman face to face, a shaking clinging to each syllable, “What the hell d’you need me for? It’s obvious this isn’t a normal murder case, IF we’re even call it a murder case. I mean for god sake, Fatima, the grave is over 50 feet long! Whatever we’re uncovering obviously isn’t a human, it’s a fucking dinosaur! Why am I here in the back-arse of all points nowhere, rather than a load of archaeologists?”

“Because what we’ve found so far isn’t making sense, and last time anyone checked, dinosaurs were fossilised. BONES, detective, not skin. This body is so fresh, there’s absolutely no decay at all! That’s impossible. Then there’s the skin, it hasn’t even been stained by acid or mud, like the skin is coated in some hydrophobic matter. None of this should be possible.” A sigh slipped the last of Fatima’s adrenaline-fuelled spitting out, she was tired. Tired of him, tired of working, tired of being in the cold. “Look, personally I think this is probably an elaborate hoax some twat on YouTube with a fringe or whatever has decided to plant in a well known historic location for views. The arseholes will probably be waiting for the news report on TV so they can have a laugh at our expense. None of this is natural, and frankly it’s starting to look ridiculous. However, so long as our shitty superiors believe this to be a murder case we stick to finding out how this thing died, understood?”

Scathing way of saying it, But a hoax was something Arthur was desperate to cling to. Of course, this was nothing but staged and faked beyond belief! None of this could be real. Give credit where credit’s due though, the bell-ends that did this were thorough. Tutting, Arthur knew he couldn’t argue his case anymore, and started to strut off on those stilts for legs back to the beams of spotlights, Fatima trotting along after him just to keep up.

“Glad to see you’re helping.”

“Just talk to me about what’s going on so we’ll be able to document this and go back to the hostel.” Spat Arthur in retaliation. He hated this job. These people. But most importantly, that thing.

Entering through the only available entrance, the two nearly ran into another detective. Useless idiot. Despite this temporary flimsy building being the size of a football field, there was barely enough space among the number of personnel of all ranks and professions, technology, storage facilities and dig sights to separate the wood from the leaves. To add to the misery, despite being as frosty inside as it was outside, the scent of dank earth and petrol from the excavation diggers still managed to permeate the trapped air. God it stunk.

Taking on a note of interest as she got into her element, Fatima called out as she moved out the way, “Right, so we are at the feet end, and up there at the other end of the canopy is our head. We’re going there first because that’s what the two witnesses found during their initial dig.”

Taking off briskly, the forensic pathologist seemed unfazed by the sheer size of the foot sticking out like a meteorite fallen to earth just a couple of meters from the entrance, not even gracing the thing a glance. Arthur had no such laissez-faire-attitude, frozen in tunnel vision. This is why he didn’t wanna come back in. The damn toes had the familiar, unique swirling pattern of calloused skin seen on humans, and blotches of brown that must’ve been freckles, as they lacked the blotchy, wet texture of mud. Veins passing like eels under ice became exposed near the epidermis, shining icy blue. On an intellectual level, the aged detective knew a foot his height in length couldn’t possibly exist in the real world. If they did, someone would’ve surely reported such a sighting.

On a primal level, instinct was sending adrenaline shooting to his heart, and his lungs could scarcely fill themselves in time to keep up with the demand of oxygenated blood. Those feet looked too alive. The raw power those hands must posses, accompanying such ginormous feet! All of it reminded him of his honeymoon with his wife on Safari, watching a pack of saltwater crocodiles descend in a snapping furry upon shared prey, crushing a zebra’s skull in its death roll, red and bloodied teeth and palate facing the animal’s terror-struck gaze whilst it still vainly screamed for its herd to come to its aid. The vocal cords snapped, eventually silencing under the sheer force of those jaws collectively ripping the head off n one piece. Two crocodiles sent the thing flying twelve feet in the air in pure territorial aggression, neither caring that they’d just murdered another being, before the Wiley victory went after the splattering mess to claim its prize. None of the herd even dared approach the brutality. Would these others do the same if he were captured? Would they leave him to the beast?

“Arthur, c’mon.”

Back to reality. “Sorry.”

Just focusing on Fatima’s back seemed to do the trick, heart rate levelling out below 100bpm. Don’t look round and it won’t be there. Arthur didn’t have it in himself to self scold for such a ridiculous reaction; he knew he should’ve stayed outside.

Still set on her headlong track, Fatima chose to not bother with looking back and risk painfully smacking into some poor soul, so delegated talking to the air in front of herself, hoping he heard her through the ruckus around them. “The head hasn’t decayed, following suit to rest of the currently exposed limbs, though there does appear to be damage. Face appears to be male, middle-aged 35 to 50’s. Noticeable marks being three precise third degree burns across the face resembling a striped pattern. No sign of healing or breakdown within the exposed areas either, which would suggest the burns were created after death.”

“Has anyone tested a sample of skin to see why there’s no breakdown?”

“We tried, but every single time someone has come in with a scalpel to remove a piece, once removed from the body the entire piece seems to crumble instantly to a fine blue dust and disappear.”

“What, Like Indiana Jones style? We found the crusader knight?”

“Please try and take this seriously Arthur, I wouldn’t mention our findings if they were false.” Tutted Fatima.

Arthur knew he was deflecting to shield himself. “I am. Can we at least try collecting the dust?”

“No use, I meant it when I said everything disappears.”

“So anything we test or observe must be on the body at all times or it’s essentially worthless?”

“Correct.”

Well that made everything just that little bit harder. JUST! They’d been reduced to the detective abilities of the bloody Edwardian period. No testing beyond what could be extracted from the soil (and judging by the lack of messy bodily fluids, the thing probably didn’t have any), and they had yet to uncover the rest of the body to see if there were any signs of obvious trauma that would account the reason behind the death. This was going to take forever. Every waking moment in this shithole was a second wasted. Whoever made this thing was one sick fuck.

“If I ever find the shitheads responsible for this prank, I’m gonna hand em a fucking life sentence. The law be damned.”

Just missing a collision with another photographer, the head finally came into full view. Even from this vantage point above ground, the thing didn’t seem small in any way. If he’d thought the foot was massive, the head was a new beast entirely upon its own pedestal. Surprisingly peaceful for a dead person, no expressions of pain or strain, just a suspiciously perfect sullen face (aside the burns of course). Knotted, greying-blond hair splayed out in dregs from the skull like old depictions of the sun’s rays, haloing the face and drawing you to the pair of closed lids. He wasn’t pretty by any standard, Arthur vainly self-noted. Weak chin jutting thin lips out from the round face, a high hairline accentuating the large forehead and a heavy brow ridge. If he weren’t the size of a four story building and significantly burnt, he’d have been extraordinary ordinary. Forgettable even. The detective knew he shouldn’t be saying that. It was a ‘victim’ after all.

“If we can’t remove any body parts, can we perhaps open the body up instead and take samples of anything inside the stomach, lungs, chest cavity etcetera?”

A grimace pulled at the woman’s lips, marring her usually stoic face, “Already done it, we had Liam go inside with a contamination dry suit whist you were outside. It’s the kind of stuff sewage divers wear at human waste plants.”

Arthur couldn’t help turning his own nose up at the prospect as well, shuffling unconsciously just a little further away. “And?”

“There were important pieces missing. A full, undisturbed respiratory system: lungs, trachea, the works. Oddly, absolutely no digestive or reproductive organs what so ever. Weirder yet, there were no signs of sabotage or surgical removal, it was like they were never there in the first place. What really caught my eye on the camera feed was that he had, what we think, are a series of air sacks integrated along the connection between the lungs and the diaphragm.”

“Meaning?”

Poor Fatima was looking at Arthur like she was trying to explain how to use the toilet to a three year old, a strong side eye from her place parallel to him

“MEANING this thing had an incredibly resourceful breathing mechanism.”

“So no basic necessary functions like the need to eat and reproduce, but a top quality breathing system. And you wonder why I’m not taking any of this seriously? Why couldn’t we just send a report saying it was a hoax and save time? It technically doesn't even come under the scientific detention of alive.”

“Well certainly not now it doesn’t.” Arthur gave his own stink eye back.

“... Look, why don’t we try and get the body transferred over to London? Our proper, large-scale testing equipment will be at our fingertips, and we’d be able to at least stick this problem on some stupid lab rats and be done with it, what d’you say?”

Fatima finally stopped half-hearting her disgust to focus on Arthur face to face. “Arthur, where d’you think that kind of space and discreetness would be possible in the middle of London city? This body is over fifty feet all, we wouldn’t even be able to keep it cool enough to stop potential decay-“

Arthur butted in, “- This thing has been out the ground for two weeks, Fatima, and hasn’t so much as lost a hair naturally. We don’t need to worry about decay. Yes, transferring the body would disturb the ‘crime scene’, but if we get this thing sent off as archeological dig remains, the disturbance won’t matter, and we’d be off the case. I don’t wanna be stuck with this shit anymore, do you?” Was he sounding too desperate?

She knew she shouldn’t mention it, not to herself and DEFINITELY not Arthur, but within her selfish consciousness, Fatima couldn’t agree with that. This may be a hoax to Arthur, but all these findings were starting to settle saplings in the garden of her imagination. These Findings weren’t Styrofoam cut outs painted with acrylic, nor were they polymer clay held together over a skeleton. whatever material this was, it was unlike anything she’d seen before. Maybe all this was a hoax, maybe all this was a waste of time.

But secretly, she wished it wasn’t.

“...I’ll see what I can do.”

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soveryanon · 4 years

Text

Reviewing time for MAG172!

- I didn’t truly believe that we would encounter a Web domain so soon, since somehow I still pictured it as the very last thing standing between Jon&Martin and the Panopticon. It means that the domains that I was expecting to be the most “heavy” on the boys, the Lonely and the Web, are already behind us (we’re down to Hunt, Vast, Dark, Spiral, and Eye).

- The “thanks Alex” Fun™ Fact of the episode was that he used the sounds of spider mating calls in this one. Alex, why.

- With MAG170, this was amongst the most “empathetic” episodes of the season so far? Or at least as far as the Fears domains are concerned? It was closer to the way older statements were framed: it really felt like someone’s story, someone’s personal struggles and life, the horrible things happening to them. I’m a bit less fond of statements this season, overall, because they feel too voyeuristic (I know, that’s the point!), because it’s decontextualised people reduced to their fears and nothing more… but Francis’s story really felt heart-wrenching.

And it was an incredibly harsh episode, dealing with codifications, scripted situations, stage&audience conspiring against the “puppet” (the audience laughing at Francis’s misery), down to the audience call excluding the non-binary protagonist (“Ladies and gentlemen”), physical cruelty (the hooks, the spiders). I like how Francis’s “act” worked, both by highlighting that they had absolutely no chance of ever winning the play on their terms, since the Spider was deploying everything against them (physical restrains, pain, psychological torture and the voices of close ones for more pressure and impacts)… and yet, that we saw them still fiercely trying to reject what the Spider wanted, still able to tell that this was not what they wanted. It was also a good move that, in this one, Francis was a victim from start to finish: not pitted against others; the addiction wasn’t making them a danger for anyone else, it was first and foremost about them, what they wanted for themselves, how others’ casual cruelty was in the way and isolated them further, leaving them at the mercy of the Spider and its hooks. If there was someone “winning”, it was the Spider (managing to give birth to many others); all of this was solely for its benefit.

It seems to be part of The Web’s game to allow some resistance, to revel in internal conflicts, but it doesn’t remove the fact that Francis had been tortured for 48068 acts, and that they were still trying to reject it.

- We got a few interesting formats so far: The Stranger's poem (MAG165), The End’s Coroner’s report (MAG168), The Flesh’s botanical book (MAG171), and now The Web’s play (MAG172)… which was awful(ly clever), with the puppet/puppeteer’s dynamic.

Nothing new about The Web preying on vulnerable/isolated people, and especially people dealing with addiction, it’s been a reoccurring thing: Raymond Fielding had taken in kids that the system didn’t know how to handle (and nobody was suspecting anything when, as “legal adults”, they were disappearing); a Spider person had tried to get Trevor off her back by making old needs resurface; Annabelle’s first encounter with The Web, if she were to be believed, was through a victim who had suffered with drug addiction; there is a huge proportions of smoker characters in Web-related statements, and there is still Jon’s lighter and Jon starting to smoke again after he got it.

Same thing: nothing new about The Web having a knack for stories and the entertainment arts! We had two statements dealing with movies, Annabelle taunting Jon about having possibly lied during her own statements, Annabelle’s website searching for stories…

- WOW, did this domain come for Jon’s throat as the ~Apocalypse-bringer~

(MAG172) THE SPIDER: Oh, Francis… It’s such a shame, but I couldn’t do such a thing even if I wanted to! The man in the audience saw to that! [CHUCKLES] I am no more free than you are, little puppet. Ah! If only you could see the strings that bind me, that wind together as they pull me along my own path…! Perhaps then, you would not blame me so. But they are not the tripping threads that we are here to watch – no. So sit, Francis. It’s time…!

That gaslighting and self-victimisation from the monster who was pulling the strings and doing a show to generate more of itself (both fears and spiders). First time one directly referred to Jon’s presence, of course it would be a Web one, uh…

- There was an awful parallel between Francis’s story, the Spider forcing the consumption on them, and Jon… for the first time, getting stuck in a loop of stories as the next act was beginning. Is Jon reacting to the domain’s logic (since this one works on the long term, the accumulation, the fact that Francis knew that their torture would keep going and happen again and again)? Was it The Web purposefully trying to trap Jon here? Was Jon more susceptible to this domain given his own experience with The Web and his relying on statements? Would Jon even have been able to leave if Martin hadn’t been there to stop it…?

(Jon had already been vulnerable to the cabin, as he discovered in MAG162: the domains and the new reality can affect him. Jon had pointed out that The Eye didn’t want Jon to stay there; it’s not surprising, but incredibly bold to see that a Web domain tried to trap Beholding’s precious little Archivist…)

- Second time that Martin had to forcefully interrupt Jon mid-statement:

(MAG169) ARCHIVIST: The photos on the wall of her family–”MARTIN: [MUFFLED, DISTANT] Jon! [STATIC INCREASES] ARCHIVIST: “–whose faces seem indistinct but she knows–” MARTIN: [MUFFLED, DISTANT] Jon! ARCHIVIST: “–that she loves, begin to blacken, as the glass–” MARTIN: [MUFFLED, DISTANT] Jon! [COUGHS] ARCHIVIST: “–pops out of the frame.” MARTIN: [MUFFLED, DISTANT] Jon, she’s here! ARCHIVIST: “Her home is being eaten alive by–” MARTIN: [CLOSER] Please come back! ARCHIVIST: “–this devouring Desolation–” MARTIN: JON! ARCHIVIST: “–and she–” [RESOUNDING SLAP] [STATIC FADES] MARTIN: She’s here! [COUGHS]

(MAG172) AUDIENCE (BACKGROUND): [LOUD CLAPS AND CHEERING] [STATIC RISES] ARCHIVIST: “The tragedy of Francis. A comic puppet show in all acts. Act 48068.” MARTIN: [MUFFLED, DISTANT] Jon? ARCHIVIST: “A stage that is a room that remains a stage.” MARTIN: [MUFFLED, DISTANT] Jon, one is enough. ARCHIVIST: “The audien–” [RESOUNDING SLAP] [STATIC FADES] AUDIENCE (BACKGROUND): [CONSTANT MUFFLED LAUGHTERS] ARCHIVIST: Oh… Oh, wh–what? MARTIN: … Sorry. You were starting another and, I didn’t want to wait. We should get going.

And the trick definitely seems to be not being in Jon’s presence while he settles into statement-mode, or it prevents anyone from being able to interrupt? Martin wasn’t able to stop him during MAG167 (but that statement had been sneaky about its start), and he didn’t when they were in Jared’s garden either…

* Daisy listened to Jon reading two statements during season 4 (MAG133 and MAG136) and, although it was part of their deal that she would not interrupt, I wonder if she could have, back then? Jon had gotten interrupted a lot during season 1 and 2, but it was by people walking into his office while he had begun reading alone.

* … I’m still not sure that Basira could have stopped Jon in MAG141, when he forced Floyd to give his statement? Jon told her that she could have but hadn’t because she wanted to know too, but he was also, quite frankly, full of shit and trying to avoid his own responsibility with regards to his victims, back then.

* It’s interesting that Jon’s “statement bubble” is now constantly showing to muffle sounds from the exterior (/from an extra-diegetic level) when he’s giving the statement. The tape recorder only catches Martin’s voice muffled, far, as if behind another layer. But once Martin broke Jon out of it, the cheers, laughs and claps from the audience, which used to be very distinct and present, were the ones suddenly sounding far away (while Martin was on the same level as Jon). We’ve been told, again and again, that the tape recorders are not neutral, but I find quite interesting the fact that they’re “translating” the different levels around Jon in this way?

- On first listen, I had failed to understand that Martin was actually meant to stay around Jon – like in MAG171, and like he had done in MAG163 when they discovered Jon’s new need to pour out about the domains:

(MAG163) ARCHIVIST: You probably want to wait outside. MARTIN: … Hum, no?! ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] Well… Put your fingers in your ears then, I, I suppose. […] Martin…? [DRIP] Martin? [DRIP] Martin, I hate your tea, and wish you made coffee instead…! [DRIP] … Alright, then. […] End recording…! [CLEARS THROAT] [SHUFFLING] MARTIN: Mm? All done? ARCHIVIST: [INHALE] Yes. [EXHALE] MARTIN: Good.

(MAG164) ARCHIVIST: We’re fine. MARTIN: A–are we? I mean, that place is– … I don’t, I don’t feel fine, okay, and you were there a long time doing your… y–you–your guidebook, which, you know, I get it, but that place is… I–it’s–it’s infectious, and, I don’t–

(MAG165) ARCHIVIST: You, uh… [SHUFFLING] You might want to take a bit of a walk. This… feels like a strange one… [LOUDER SCREAMS IN THE DISTANCE] MARTIN: What does “strange” mean, with something like this? ARCHIVIST: Don’t think you want to know…! MARTIN: Good point. Hum, o–kay, well, uh… Good luck, I’ll be… uh, o–over there! [BAG JOSTLING] [DEPARTING FOOTSTEPS] ARCHIVIST: [INHALE] … Right.

(MAG166) MARTIN: Do you need anything? ARCHIVIST: No. MARTIN: Fine, I’ll just… [RUSTLING OF CLOTHES] Ye–yeah, right. [BAG JOSTLING] [DEPARTING FOOTSTEPS] ARCHIVIST: [EXHALE]

(MAG168) ARCHIVIST: Now, if you’re quite done inciting me to murder? MARTIN: Not “murder”! Smiting. ARCHIVIST: [FOND SIGH] MARTIN: Right, yes, yes, of course. You… [INHALE] You vomit your horrors. [SIGH] ARCHIVIST: [REVULSED SOUND] Uh! I’m… not sure I like that metaphor…! MARTIN: “Puke your terrors”? ARCHIVIST: … Just go. MARTIN: Alright. Fine, I’m going. [BAG JOSTLING] [DEPARTING FOOTSTEPS]

(MAG170) MARTIN: Why am I here? I… I, I fell behind. I was, I was too slow, and, and, and the fog caught up, I was… I was following, al–always following, never leading; never leading. Why did he leave me behind? Di–did he? […] I thought you’d left me behind…! Gone on without me. ARCHIVIST: No, never…! N–never, I–I just… [RUSTLING OF CLOTHES] I, I didn’t want to… look too ha–, I–I–I promised I wouldn’t… know you, and, and with the fog in all–all the rooms, I’ll, I just, I lost y–, I… I–I’m sorry.

(MAG171) JARED: [LONG MEATY INHALE, EXHALE] Cheers for that! ARCHIVIST: … Don’t. MARTIN: Jon, are you… alright? ARCHIVIST: Yeah, hum… Sorry. MARTIN: No, it, it’s alright.

(MAG172) ARCHIVIST: If you’re bored, you could always… take in a show. MARTIN: That’s… That’s not funny, Jon. ARCHIVIST: If you say so…! MARTIN: Just… [INHALE] Just give me a shout when you’re done, alright? [BAG JOSTLING] [RUSTLING OF CLOTHES] ARCHIVIST: … Good. Right. […] MARTIN: … Sorry. You were starting another and, I didn’t want to wait. We should get going. ARCHIVIST: Y–you were listening, I… I–I–I thought that you– MARTIN: No, I… Not for most of it. I just thought I heard… something. Whatever. I went exploring, alright? I don’t know why; I shouldn’t have. […] Can we just go, please? ARCHIVIST: Of course, but… You were safe here. And after everything that’s already happened, I… I–I just don’t understand why you would– MARTIN: [SHAKEY] Me neither, okay! ARCHIVIST: What? MARTIN: I mean, that’s it, isn’t it?! I don’t know! I don’t know why I went exploring!

So they’ve truly learned from the Lonely house: Martin had to stay in MAG163 when they discovered Jon’s new predicament; then starting MAG164, Martin began to leave Jon alone for his statements, not keen to listen to them. In MAG170, they lost sight of each other in the house – since then, Martin has gone back to staying around Jon, trying to not listen (except, precisely, that Martin went wandering off in MAG172, which he wasn’t supposed to do, and came back… just in time when Jon was beginning a new cycle). Trials and errors.

- MMMMM, so this is the second time Martin did something, wasn’t exactly able to explain why he had done it, was questioned about it, and the matter was ultimately left hanging:

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

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

Regarding Martin putting the tape recorders on the Coffin: Jonah didn’t claim it to be his doing in MAG160 (I thiiink that Peter was suspicious of Elias influencing Martin then, since he also checked that Elias wasn’t overstepping in MAG158…), so probs wasn’t him. Annabelle pointed out to Jon that she had sometimes helped “to keep you safe” in MAG147, I still feel like it was most likely her doing?

Two things were interesting here: that Martin began exploring, and that he came back just in time to stop Jon. The first one left Jon vulnerable, allowing him to potentially get trapped in the cycle of Francis’s Acts; the second one… allowed Martin to make him snap out of it just in time. Or the wandering may have “protected” Martin from being trapped in Jon’s statement, too, because he could have accidentally begun listening if he’d hung around?

(A bit afraid about the fact that, twice, it was shown that as long as Martin didn’t slap Jon out of a statement, he wouldn’t stop: it makes Jon and Martin both vulnerable to their surroundings if they’re not together. Jon gets trapped in the statement, while Martin’s main protection is still Jon… That sounds a bit like a weakness that could get used against them at some point? ;;)

- SOB about Martin mentioning he was (probably) motivated by “curiosity”, since it has been hammered in that… it isn’t a good thing for Beholding-touched people to indulge themselves too much, tends to cause their downfall, and has even allowed The Spider to sneak in and weave its Web:

(MAG167) ARCHIVIST: “When Gertrude was appointed to the role, there was a single survivor left in the Archives: a woman by the name of Fiona Law. Fiona was the most fascinating combination of curiosity and cowardice, pushing forward and forward into the unknown, until the very first moment of threat… crystallised. […] She had never got deep enough into the mysteries that plagued her to slake that burning curiosity. And she never would. […] But Emma had a sickness. As much as she might have despised the ageing Fiona, it was the same one that plagued her: curiosity. That desperate, grasping need to know. […] There was a fire to Sarah Carpenter, perhaps the one which led to Gertrude hiring her, and Emma’s curiosity ignited once again, this time keen to find out exactly what it would take to break this brave investigator of the unknown.”

No wonder Martin Is Feeling So Threatened Right Now, after having learned about Emma (Beholding assistant taken over by The Web… and become a master at deceiving her Archivist).

- Martin rejected the Lonely house, so does it mean that other domains will be trying to seduce him, now? It’s interesting that he reacted to the theatre in a way that was very similar to the house, which was supposed to be “his” (but wasn’t “anymore”):

(MAG167) ARCHIVIST: We all have a domain here, Martin. The place that feeds us. MARTIN: Oh. [PAUSE] Where’s yours? ARCHIVIST: [MIRTHLESS CHUCKLE] I mean, we’re… traveling towards it. MARTIN: Oh! Right, obviously. [CHUCKLING] Duh. Hum… What about me? ARCHIVIST: … Would you… like me to… ? MARTIN: No, no. Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.

(MAG170) MARTIN: Do I have a home? This, this place feels like it’s all… for me, I think, but I don’t… [CREAKING OF A DOOR] I don’t like it here. […] I feel like there’s somewhere I need to be, but… But no, no; this is my house, [CHUCKLE] where else would I need to be? […] You, you are Martin Blackwood; yes. You–you didn’t choose to be here. Jon is coming. I am Martin Blackwood, and I am not lonely anymore, I am not lonely anymore! […] Jon, it’s… okay. I promise it’s okay. This place tried, it really did, and honestly I… I wanted to believe it. But I didn’t. ARCHIVIST: This… “place”, i–it… [STATIC] My God…! MARTIN: Yeah… [SILENCE] ARCHIVIST: M–Martin, if you… did; i–if you wanted to forget… a–all of it, stay here and just… escape. I… I would understand. […] I, I just… I wanted to make sure that you knew what this place was. MARTIN: It’s The Lonely, Jon. It’s me. ARCHIVIST: [INHALE] Not anymore. MARTIN: Hm! No. [LONG INHALE, EXHALE] No…! Not anymore.

(MAG172) MARTIN: No, I… Not for most of it. I just thought I heard… something. Whatever. I went exploring, alright? I don’t know why; I shouldn’t have. […] ARCHIVIST: Are you saying you were… compelled? MARTIN: I’m saying I don’t know, do I? I thought I was just curious, it felt like curiosity, but… given where we are, and with The Web everywhere, and Annabelle Cane still out there playing mind games with payphones, I just… […] ARCHIVIST: Would you like to leave now? [BAG JOSTLING] AUDIENCE (BACKGROUND): [LAUGHS] MARTIN: … Yeah, screw this place. Never liked theatre anyway.

Interesting, too, that there are a few parallels right now with the situation in which Martin had initially encountered Peter in MAG108: while reading a theatre-related statement, isolated and scared. Even Jon’s way of describing The Lonely’s “seductiveness” was quite reminiscent of The Web (especially in Francis’s story):

(MAG150) ARCHIVIST: The Lonely is… possibly the most insidious of the powers, I believe. Certainly it is the one that… most delights in having you do its work for it. Even the Spiders seem to have a hard time matching it for sheer seductiveness. [HUFF] “Time to yourself”, “self-care”, “putting yourself forward”… “not being a burden on those you care about”… [PAUSE] It doesn’t even need to tell you any lies; just waits for the lies you tell yourself.

So… a few similarities in the way The Lonely and The Web are shown trying to seduce Martin? Martin seemed to reject the theatre, but it could do a Peter with him and go… persistent.

(So obligatory “this is how Web!Martin can still win”, and it’s never not a good time to remind myself of:

(MAG138) MARTIN: I think he wants me to join The Lonely. ELIAS: Then it sounds like you have a decision to make. [SILENCE] MARTIN: … What? [HUFF] That’s it? No, no monologue, no mindgames? You love manipulating people! ELIAS: That makes two of us. MARTIN: [HUFF]

(MAG158) MARTIN: Oh, I’m getting there, but if this is the final test or something? Then bad luck. The answer’s still “no”. [FOOTSTEPS] PETER: … No. No! This isn’t fair, do you have any idea what you’ve done? You knew, he must have– MARTIN: Elias– … Jonah had nothing to do with it. PETER: No! That’s not– You can’t– ELIAS: You’ve lost, Peter. Admit it. [CHUCKLE] He played you like a… like a cheap whistle. PETER: No! Shut up!

Because gnnnnnnnnnnniiiiiiiiiih.)

- It was a bit of a (pleasant) surprise that Jon&Martin didn’t meet Annabelle in the obligatory Web domain of their journey! But it makes us go back to the usual question: where is she, why is she not showing herself directly, what does she want, why can’t Jon see where she is?

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

Jon had trouble seeing when inside of Hill Top Road, back in MAG147 (though he blamed it on having recently encountered The Dark). Could she be there? On the other side of the crack? Waiting inside of the Panopticon/Institute? On the back of Jon’s head? Being many many spiders, as an avatar, and thus impossible to locate because she’s plural? Technically dead already, but having planned and foreseen how the phone call with Martin would go, leaving a pre-recorded message that would play exactly as needed? That makes a lot of people that Jon has trouble seeing in the new world, with Georgie&Melanie, Jonah…

- I’m still laughing a lot that the beginning of the episode felt very much like Jon asking for a bathroom break:

(MAG172) ARCHIVIST: Ah… Hold up, I–I need to, uh… [RUSTLING OF CLOTHES] MARTIN: Now, seriously? We’re almost out of here. ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] I’m sorry…! Not really up to me…! MARTIN: Fine. [SIGH]

Martin: When are we getting to the Panopticon!! Can’t we take another direction or a shortcut? I don’t like these places. Jon: Can we stop for a bit? I really need a break!! Right now!!

Awful kids, do not go on vacation with them.

- Eeeeeeh that Jon&Martin’s tastes in media are so different!

(MAG136) ARCHIVIST: Hm. Neil Lagorio… You ever see any of his work? DAISY: No. Not really into films. ARCHIVIST: Oh, they were… Well, let’s just say that it’s not a complete shock there was something unnatural to them. Didn’t know we had copies in the Institute, though; let alone original cuts. [CHUCKLE] Records indicate they [PAPERS RUSTLING] ended up in… Artefact Storage. DAISY: Probably best that they stay there. ARCHIVIST: … Yeah. Yes, of course.

(MAG165) MARTIN: Was it a good poem? ARCHIVIST: I don’t know! “No”? You’re the poetry expert, Martin, not me…! […] Then I don’t know what you mean, Martin, I’m not a poetry person, I don’t… “get it”. I never have. MARTIN: That’s… That’s fine, I understand…! ARCHIVIST: Look. I’m better than I was; I used to think all poetry was bad. MARTIN: Sorry, what?! ARCHIVIST: I mean, I just thought of… [SIGH] I sort of thought it was pointless! Just… write some prose and stop… wasting everyone’s time! MARTIN: Hm! What changed? ARCHIVIST: I don’t know, I just… mellowed on it, I suppose. MARTIN: That’s… kind of weird. ARCHIVIST: In my defence, there is a lot of bad poetry out there.

(MAG167) ARCHIVIST: … Methinks the Spider doth protest too much…! [BAG JOSTLING] MARTIN: Jon. ARCHIVIST: Joking! Just joking.

(MAG172) MARTIN: … Yeah, screw this place. Never liked theatre anyway.

I hope that Theatre Kid Jon felt personally offended by that last one. (I’m really waiting for Martin to learn that Jon has been listening to The Archers.)

- It had been highlighted in season 3 that Martin didn’t really get Jon’s sense of humour. The archival staff overall had a general tendency to resort to dark/insensitive humour to cope with their situation, but ;; I side with Martin on how right now, it doesn’t feel relieving or reassuring that Jon makes small jokes about the horror befalling people:

(MAG171) ARCHIVIST: It takes a skilled gardener to get them to grow like this. The curling, cascading intricacies of collagen and marrow… it takes devotion. MARTIN: Jon. [FOOTSTEPS STOP] [WHIMPERS IN THE BACKGROUND] ARCHIVIST: … S–sorry. MARTIN: You sound like you think they’re beautiful. [FOOTSTEPS RESUME] ARCHIVIST: Don’t you? [SILENCE]

(MAG172) ARCHIVIST: If you’re bored, you could always… take in a show. MARTIN: That’s… That’s not funny, Jon. ARCHIVIST: If you say so…! […] Ticket for one, then, I suppose.

… because we don’t really know if Jon wants to make them stop?

(“Ticket for one”, tho, was INCREDIBLE and very “jON.”)

- … When Jon told Martin to try to not focus too much on which part of his actions/decisions could be due to The Web:

(MAG172) MARTIN: I’m saying I don’t know, do I? I thought I was just curious, it felt like curiosity, but… given where we are, and with The Web everywhere, and Annabelle Cane still out there playing mind games with payphones, I just… [SIGH] I mean, how do you even know if it’s your motivation, you know? Being here… [SIGH] I–it just makes me second-guess all of it, and I… I don’t like it, it… really scares me. ARCHIVIST: I, uh… MARTIN: Oh, don’t say that’s what it wants, I know. ARCHIVIST: I, I wasn’t going to. […] Don’t do this to yourself, Martin. This is what it wants, the, the paranoia. [SIGH] Trust me, I, I know. MARTIN: … Fair.

… he indeed reaaaally knew from experience. MAG147 had visible effects on him, to the point that Melanie directly addressed it and Annabelle became a regular potential culprit in Jon’s mind alongside Peter and Elias:

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

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

(MAG157) ARCHIVIST: [LONG INHALE, EXHALE] This… tape was left on my desk. I don’t know by who, but to my mind there are… three options. Martin has left it here, to let me know that… whatever the situation is with Peter Lukas, it is entering its final act and he needs my help. Alternatively, Peter may have left it here to… goad me into action? Or just to gloat, to highlight my helplessness and everything. [SIGH] Or Annabelle Cane is trying to manipulate me into thinking it’s one of the other scenarios. Previously, the Spiders have made their presence clear when they’ve sent me… “hints”, but I can’t take that for granted. I don’t know what to do…!

(MAG158) ARCHIVIST: And I don’t keep any of them with the key to the tunnels. It’s been left for me. DAISY: And it says “Play me.” Kind of suspicious. BASIRA: So Elias left it? ARCHIVIST: Or Martin. O–or Peter, or… Annabelle!

(And we still don’t know who had left the tapes and Adelard’s last statement. Peter and Martin didn’t mention them, nor did Elias, which indeed leaves The Web for these ones…)

I love that since season 4, Martin’s answer tends to be “screw it, I hate this, bye”: with Peter and Elias’s live-divorce, with the Lonely house, now with The Web doing… something to him. Trying to call to him? To make him hear “the music”, as Simon’s allegory had described it?

- So Jon has trouble seeing ~the big picture~ of The Web:

And how ~convenient~ that the Vast grandpa wasn’t dead by the time of season 4, and is probably Enjoying Sky Blue in a domain of his own:

(MAG151) SIMON: Peter, however, seems to think that it will upset the balance that we all have an awful lot invested in. And he’s not at all certain the world as we understand will come out the other side. MARTIN: And let me guess – you think he can’t see the “big picture”? SIMON: [INHALE] I see why he likes you! MARTIN: [SIGH] SIMON: It’s all a matter of perspective, you see. My patron has gifted me with… quite frankly, an absurdly long life. An appropriate gift, and one that serves to provide a certain distance from things. Of course, a paltry few centuries is nothing, really, but it’s more than most get. And even in that brief time, I’ve seen all sorts of ebbs and flows to balance off things.

We’ve yet to cross a Vast domain, Jon said he REALLY didn’t want to meet Simon ever, Simon was incredibly smitten with Martin… there is still hope for Meeting-Simon-in-the-Vast-domain.

(- Sounds like Jon remembers Helen’s point about “knowing” and “understanding” being two different things (with Jon adding “seeing”):

(MAG164) HELEN: And please: my name is “Helen”. ARCHIVIST: Like you said, I can know everything now. Including how much of a lie that really is. HELEN: Don’t mistake “complication” for “falsehood”, dear Archivist. ARCHIVIST: [AGGRAVATED EXHALE] HELEN: And remember, that knowledge is not the same thing as understanding.

And now I’m remembering that The Distortion used to be curious about the house on Hill Top Road, but not really able to tell what The Spider was doing there… Did Helen get her answers in season 4?)

- Oufft re: Martin&Jon’s discussion:

(MAG172) ARCHIVIST: I was going to suggest that… I could… maybe… “know”. I could look. Just a quick peek, to, to see if it was just curiosity, or… something else. … Well? MARTIN: I don’t… If you look, and I was… “influenced”, then how can I trust anything else? How can I believe any of my thoughts and feelings are really mine? ARCHIVIST: U–uh, well… I–I–I’ll still be here to check, I–I’m not leaving you. MARTIN: Sure, but you’d be looking through the details of everything that ever crosses my mind? I don’t want that! Y–you know I don’t want that. ARCHIVIST: … I know. […] So… Do you want me to? To, to tell you if…? MARTIN: No. [SIGH] No, I’ll just have to live with it, I guess. Hardly the worst thing I’ll have gone through since– … I, hum. I–it’s fine. [SIGH]

I really liked how it absolutely didn’t feel like an argument (and wasn’t one!): Martin has objections, has the power to make a decision, and gets the last word… since it primarily involves himself. I appreciate that Martin was able to tell the main flaw of Jon’s offer – knowing what is happening could provide a temporary relief… but wouldn’t offer a sustainable existence for him (if The Web isn’t trying to manipulate Martin now, it doesn’t mean that it won’t try later, which means that Jon would have to check regularly; and if Martin is under influence… indeed, Martin couldn’t trust himself anymore, and depending on Jon’s power to check everything would turn Martin’s existence into a half-life. And it would still feed The Web in the process). Kudos to Jon for his restraint, too, because given his insistence, he’s probably curious/afraid about it, but he hasn’t broken his promise of avoiding to “know” about Martin and he laid out Martin’s options, leaving the decision to him. On that front, they’re doing fine!

Title for MAG173 very much screams “Dark, duh?!” but it feels very easy, so is it a trap. I could see the link if it were Vast or Hunt, too, but really, it just screams Dark. … And it could work for a character death episode, but I feel like every title can read like a character death episode one way or another. (Worried about Daisyyyy…)

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CODE Z3RO | CODE 08

characters: BTS & Red Velvet genre: thriller, futuristic au warning: death summary: The twelve most ambitious and promising university students are welcomed in Choego, the world’s first entirely artificial intelligence-driven city, to compete for five job contracts that could change their life. But what if something goes wrong? What if they get trapped? What if the city suddenly turns against them? Can they find a way out before the countdown reaches zero? words: 4,4K tagged: @philosopher-of-fandoms

➼ Chapter Index

Kang Seulgi was one of those people who found comfort in the silence even when it felt sad, despairing and endlessly barren without comforting words that could ease the restless hearts. Unlike Taehyung who seemed unable to shut up whenever the team faced another obstacle, she kept her worries for herself, swallowing down all those nasty swears that formed in her throat once they stepped inside the main researcher building and found nothing. There was no magical computer in the basement that could have put an end to their misery nor important folders that could have contained useful information and saved them. There were no people who could have helped them find the fastest escape route nor food that they could have stolen at least to fill their uneasy stomachs. Not that any of them would have been able to eat. Not with their fallen members’ dead bodies, all that blood and roasted meat, in their mind.

After ten minutes of constant searching, everyone seemed to give up although none of them dared to move or voice out the obvious: what if they had been in the next zone on the list all along and a little bit more than five minutes later the defence system would close them inside of a transparent box that would slowly run out of oxygen? Would they die if they tried to walk into a neighbourhood zone through the invisible fences as Jimin had done? No one could tell for sure. Or at least no one dared to speak up.

They all gathered in the hallway near the stairs and the broken elevator on the first floor just as they had agreed in advance and watched Yoongi walking back and forth, trying to come up with a plan in vain. Lacking essential information such as the location of the main computer or the exact order of the zones, he didn’t know which route they should have followed to get to the bridge without people dying around them uselessly. Even though he wasn’t as selfless as Seokjin had been and would have never given his life to save a mere acquaintance, he didn’t want to lose anyone of their group if it could be evitable. It was basic empathy that for some reason Taehyung was lacking in many aspects.

‘So can we finally agree on that, there’s nothing useful in here and we’re just wasting our time? How much do we have? Three minutes?’ he asked aggressively with his forehead leaning against the wall. He was just as scared as everyone else, it was obvious from the way he kept kicking the metal panel next to a random bedroom, but his behaviour made everyone nervous and it made hard for them to concentrate.

Namjoon snorted and nuzzled closer to his girlfriend whose face was buried in the juncture between the boy’s neck and shoulder.

‘What? Did you all forget how to speak?’ Taehyung asked with anger in his eyes when he turned around and all he could see was a bunch of trembling idiots and the eerie IT guy who was walking down the hallway, murmuring something indecipherable under his nose. The Marketing major hated him for being such a smartass but he definitely hated the others more for acting ever so pathetic. For a second, they had made him believe that they would all die in the fancy palace, the researchers had built for themselves. ‘Even you, Ginger Head? You had such a big mouth back there when your boyfriend speeded up this killing machine,’ he looked at Wendy and from his tone and the tiny sweat drop on his neck, Joohyun could tell that it was defence mechanism. He tried to pick a fight to erase the silence. How human of him.

‘We got in! That was the plan and he made it possible so you should thank him instead of…’ the girl screamed at the lilac haired boy once she pushed herself further from Namjoon and stood up.

‘Thank him? Really?’ the questions rolled off Taehyung’s lips and the smug smirk that hid in the corner of his mouth scared the shit out of the med student. He looked cold like a man who didn’t have anything to lose anymore thus was ready to do anything that could put his heart at ease. For example holding onto the vengeance that he felt towards the Mechanical Engineering major who stepped between his girlfriend and Taehyung in the meantime. His heroic behaviour earned a scoff from the younger. ‘Well then thank you so much for killing us all, Your Highness,’ he said cruelly and even took a deep bow to emphasize the weight of his words.

It was Yoongi who put his hand on the Marketing major’s shoulder and pulled him further from the couple, pointing at the small, digital numbers on the metal panel that he couldn’t stop hitting a few minutes prior, the one that could have opened the nearest door if their bracelets had been still working. The clock told them that it was quarter to twelve which meant somewhere in Choego another zone had gotten cut off electricity three minutes ago. They were safe for the next twenty-seven minutes.

‘Let’s stop it here, shall we? We need to figure out where’s the main computer so that we can stop the countdown and open the gates,’ the IT guy said in a stern voice and looked around, searching for doubt in the other’s clouded eyes. His piercing gaze sent a jolt down in Seulgi’s spine.

‘I…’ she started but her voice was too quiet to be heard and by the time she gathered enough courage to repeat that simply pronoun, Taehyung brushed Yoongi’s hand off his shoulder and leaned closer to the older.

‘You said yourself that this system doesn’t have admins. You couldn’t even open a freaking door goddamnit. How could you save us all with your useless skills, hah?’ he spat the words into their leader’s face and pushing his chest, he shoved Yoongi backwards. When Namjoon and Jungkook tried to seperate them or more precisely when they tried to get Taehyung off Yoongi who stood still like a statue, all hell broke loose and that was enough for Seulgi to turn her back on the team, seeking for peace in the abandoned building. She didn’t fear the city or the invisible fences. What she feared the most was the human factors in the structure. She had learned it in her first year in uni that one couldn’t build a strong construction on a weak foundation. With the lilac haired guy’s attitude, they would never become a real team.

She opened a door on the second floor and sit on a bare table with her legs on the backrest of a chair. It felt nice to be able to breath again far from the noises of the ruckus thus she opened her backpack and fished out her silver cigarette case and a plain lighter. She didn’t think before she put the loosey between her lips and suck a mouthful of the mint flavoured smoke.

She sat in the silence for long minutes before something crashed into the metal door and the cigarette fell out of her slim fingers, burning her pale skin. Seulgi jumped off the table hastily and covered her belongings with her body when the intruder pushed the old-fashioned handle downwards to sneak inside the room. When Yerim’s gaze found hers, the younger seemed honestly relieved.

‘We decided on going forwards. We’ll try to escape through the bridge,’ she said in her weak voice as she stepped inside, leaving the older with no choice but to abandon her cigarette case and the lighter since there was no way that she could have shoved them into her backpack without Yerim noticing. She didn’t want the girl to tell about her habit to everyone especially not Wendy who tended to act like an overprotective mother whenever it came to their health. Seulgi didn’t need lectures, she had gotten enough from her own mother when they had still lived under the same rooftop in the outskirts of Seoul.

They walked side by side silently when a loud noise split the muteness into two, breaking the shelter that the silence had created around the girls. Suddenly the whole hallway went pitch black and then a few still seconds later the lights came back in a bloody shade of crimson. It felt like a living nightmare.

Seulgi grabbed the frozen girl’s hand and pulled Yerim towards the others near the stairs on the first floor. They all looked confused and frightened at first glance as if they couldn’t have believed that the hospital incident had come back to haunt them in daylight.

Five minutes left until the total evacuation. The same, artificial voice warned them, freezing the blood in Seulgi’s veins who automatically casted her eyes down, looking at her burned finger with guilt filling her lungs. She let go of Yerim’s hand and took a shaky step further from the group, her movements followed by nothing but a stern gaze that was icy like the unforgiving cold of the winter air.

Min Yoongi shook his head and cleared his throat before he spoke up.

‘It’s the fire alarm system. Everybody, get out of the building,’ he shouted and pointed at the stairs behind their back.

The group of nine ran to the said direction with their hearts beating like crazy just to face with another obstacle as they realized that the building had locked them inside as if the system forgot that the main entrance should have been the last thing to close since the fire was nowhere near the door. They were supposed to have at least four or three more minutes to get to the exit goddamnit, a few of them swore under their noses while Taehyung kicked into the shock resistant glass. He acted like a wild animal that had been captured for the first time in his life. He meant to bite everyone who dared to step within an arm’s length radius.

‘The front door is closed. There’s no way out,’ the lilac haired boy informed Yoongi with a frown, making sure that the IT guy understood that it was him whom he was blaming for their doom. If Mr. Smartypants hadn’t insisted to look for the main computer in the researcher building, they would have never stuck in the glamourous yet useless dormitory in the first place. What the hell had they been thinking when they had let him take the role of the team captain? He was just as ridiculous of a leader as the dead man with the bloody tears.

Seulgi looked at Taehyung then shifted her gaze to Yoongi, putting her weight from one leg to another.

‘We should head towards the basement. That way we can get out of here through the sewerage system,’ she whispered, jittery fingers fidgeting with the hem of her tee. She wasn’t one who was good at making orders and bossing people around but she sincerely hoped that the others wouldn’t question her knowledge, just do as she suggested and rush to the nearest stairs to the basement. After all, trusting her was their only chance.

For the Architecture major’s biggest surprise, no one - not even Taehyung - had said a word before they turned to left and ran to the seventh door on the hallway that separated them from those dozens of stairs that led to the basement level. Since they had already discovered every opened room of the building less than half an hour prior, it was an easy run. Although not all of them was that willing to save themselves if the basement was their only option. Yerim for example stayed still with pure terror in her eyes.

‘The basement…’ she mumbled and her voice cracked when the first vivid picture of her brother reappeared in her mind. She saw him running back to her so that he could pull her out of the danger zone as he had always done. She saw herself falling on her knees and their teammates watching the whole scene from the safe distance of the hallway. She saw Seokjin’s apologetic smile and the blood running down his cheeks. She saw the sorrowful faces and the pity written all over them when she kept screaming even after there had been no tears left in her eyes. How could have she possibly walked down the basement on her free will? Easy. She couldn’t.

Two minutes left until the total evacuation. The robotic voice said when Jungkook reached the right door and leaning his palm against its edge, he noticed that the girl who was always around him didn’t follow him as he assumed. The boy turned around and watched the small group that was behind him but none of the members had an annoyingly childish ribbon in their hair. So much for getting to the entrance first, he swore, letting Taehyung cross the threshold as he took an unsure step backwards and observed the hallway.

Yerim was standing in front of the closed door where they couldn’t escape with the same cloudy expression she’d had next to the computer’s desk in the hospital’s basement.

‘Shit,’ the boy murmured under his nose when he took a deep breath and rushed back to the main entrance regardless of the short period of time ahead of them before the total evacuation, whatever that meant.

On his way back to the main entrance, he could see Wendy pulling her hand out of her boyfriend’s grab and Seulgi reaching the top of the stairs with Joohyun but he tried to shut out the crimson lights and the monotone noise that resembled an enormous clock, counting endlessly. It was crazy as if they had been trapped in a living nightmare in which everyone went nuts. Since when did he care about random girl’s well-being more than his own life? Damn, he hadn’t even shared his favourite snacks with his younger siblings for God’s sake!

Jungkook almost crashed into Yerim’s fragile body when his steps came to a halt after the fast speed but his presence, for the first time since this whole trial had started, didn’t have any effect on the younger as if she hadn’t even realized that the boy had come back to her. Her usually ruby red cheeks were pale and her gaze was cloudy, unfocused. Therefore lacking a better idea, Jungkook bent his knees and threw the girl over his left shoulder. She was so petite that her weight barely made any difference with the adrenaline running through the boy’s body.

‘I said I’m fine. Help him!’ Wendy raised her voice, pointing at Yoongi when Jungkook passed them by, jogging down the stairs. The boy lifted a brow in confusion but fastly shook the idea of staying out of his head. He wasn’t a hero to begin with and he had never intended to become one if not to become an excellent engineer who saved the future of millions as a well-paid employee under the Cheongsan Group. Regardless of the current chaos, he would have still accepted one of those fancy contracts. It was too valuable to throw it away because of sentimentalism. ‘He has asthma, he couldn’t reach the basement in time,’ he could hear the med student’s stern voice but the snort that followed it merged into the constant background noise, provided by the fire alarm when the door closed behind him and the sobbing dead weight on his back.

‘Fine, but you need to stay right next to me or else I won’t hesitate to leave him here and save you first,’ Namjoon claimed when his girlfriend looked around and took a step towards Hoseok who seemed dizzy as he walked with his hands kept on the wall. ‘You know that it isn’t a lie,’ the Mechanical Engineering major cleared his throat and being left with no choice, Wendy ran after him and Yoongi, following them down the stairs.

One minute left until the total evacuation. The artificial voice warned them in a lifeless tone and Wendy had never felt twenty-four steps that many before.

It was Seulgi and Joohyun who reached the iron door of their safe haven first and what they found was a surprisingly spacious room with ugly, grey paint on its walls and warm water droplets occasionally falling from above from the huge pipes that were placed on the ceiling. It was disappointing to say the least after all the high tech equipments that they had seen in the city and the fabulous interior design of the researcher building made of shock resistant glass, marble and thin metal that shone just as bright as crystals. It looked as if the budget had been cut off in the last minute and there wouldn’t have left enough money for the less important areas that were hidden beneath the ground.

They both snapped their heads towards the hallway when a faint thud followed by a loud swear filled the sphere between the stairs and the door and not long after Jungkook crossed the threshold with Yerim on his shoulder. The girls shared a knowing glance before Joohyun sat on her heels and helped the boy putting the sobbing girl on the floor, leaning her back to the wall in one of the corners. The older shot a faint smile at the panting boy before he stepped away and turned his back on the duo. He didn’t want to talk about the reason behind his actions nor answer to the other’s nosy questions if she had any.

There was less than one minute left when Namjoon dragged his girlfriend inside the room regardless of her weak attempts to pull away, running back to the hallway where the lilac haired guy was struggling to make the endless metres between his aching body and the iron door disappear. From what the redhead saw, he must have sprained his ankle in the rush but his misery was the last thing that Namjoon cared about. If he needed to choose between the world and Wendy, it would have always been the quick-tempered girl therefore choosing between her and the brat wasn’t even a hard decision to make.

‘He won’t make it,’ the med student claimed angrily as she stamped her foot in frustration, pointing at the boy halfway to the entrance.

Namjoon let go of the IT guy’s shoulder and straightened his back, blocking the way from the girl who was ready to leave them all behind before the worst thing could have happened. Even though the boy had never had a problem with the girl bossing him around and would have done anything to please her, this time he simply couldn’t let her be. It was insane. He would have never forgiven himself if anything had happened to Wendy just because he couldn’t man up and took the rage that radiated from his sulky girlfriend.

Thirty seconds left until the total evacuation. The last warning cut through the lovebirds’ debate, leaving everyone a bit speechless as Joohyun pushed Namjoon out of the way and ran straight to Taehyung to help his injured ankle bear his own weight. She slid her arm on the boy’s shoulder and pulled him towards the room.

‘Come on!’ the girl mumbled through gritted teeth, not quite believing that she really risked her life for a boy who had threatened her less than an hour prior. On the other hand, her actions seemed almost rational considering that she did know how the human mind worked and that her conscious couldn’t have rested if she had let another member of their team die. With Sooyoung, it had been an unintentional homicide but knowing that this whole fiasco was very much real, she couldn’t just stand there and watch the boy got eliminated from the game as she had done with Gangnam Girl. She wasn’t as greedy and competitive for God’s sake.

They were only a few steps away from the door when a transparent wall started to descend from the ceiling and everyone started to panic. Taehyung balled his empty fist and held onto the sweaty girl with the other, nails digging into the flesh painfully. Joohyun screamed, her eyes brimming with crystal-like tears as she kept moving regardless of the fast speed of the wall that already covered half of the entrance. They were definitely too slow to reach it in time yet as if her survival instinct had kicked in, she marched outright insane, keeping her gaze on the target. Three more steps; Taehyung’s panting dulled her senses and pushed her underwater. Two steps; for a mere second they almost lost their balance. One step; Joohyun’s spine crashed into the wall when they bent their backs but by the time the wall fitted close to the ground they were all safe. The thought alone was enough for the girl to let her tears fall in frustration.

Watching her wobbly legs giving out, Wendy immediately rushed to the girl, sat on her heels and fished a bottle of still water out of her bag to dip her extra tee in lukewarm liquid before she placed it onto Joohyun’s nape.

‘What the hell was that?’ Taehyung screamed out of control, kneeling on Joohyun’s right. He clenched his palms and punched the floor so hard his pale knuckles started to bleed after the third powerful hit. His whole body was trembling in despair and for the first time ever since they had left the dormitory, no one could blame him for how he coped with the fear.

‘You were right. We should have never gone to that basement nor cut the wires of that stupid control panel,’ Joohyun whispered under her nose and her weak comment eared a surprised glance from the lilac haired guy. He had been so used to the disapproving retorts by now that the girl’s statement melted his anger. Though, just for a second, not a single heartbeat more.

The silence that embraced the university students was unnerving to say the least and the fact that Yerim rocked herself back and forth in the corner, humming a lullaby as if it could put her at ease just made the whole situation more uncomfortable. This time even Seulgi felt a bit anxious with her arms crossed in front of her chest while she was waiting for Yoongi or anyone who was brave enough to take the lead and give them an order.

A few ephemeral moments later, she looked down at her burnt finger and took a deep breath, trying to gather enough courage to confess. After all, it was most likely her fault that the fire alarm system had turned on and locked the whole building. Even the fact that it was her idea to escape through the basement couldn’t have made up for it.

‘I…’ she whispered with an enormous knot in her throat when Yoongi’s question outplaced her weak attempt to tell everyone the truth.

‘Where’s Hoseok?’ It wasn’t a question directed to the brown haired girl yet his gaze could have burnt a hole into Seulgi’s chest when she realized that the boy was looking at her right hand or more precisely the angry red flesh on her index finger. She shoved her hand into her pocket and turned away.

‘There,’ Namjoon said sternly, his voice cold like floating icebergs, and suddenly everyone’s gaze shifted to the direction he was pointing at expect for Yerim. She didn’t need to take a look at Hoseok’s body to be sure that the boy was dead or in the verge of dying. For her, his absence made it obvious that something terrible had happened.

Jung Hoseok was lying on the concrete a few inches from the stairs, lifeless eyes watching them all with blame and agony. He looked just like those scientists on the dorm’s floor who had died from insufficient oxygen and one didn’t have to be a genius in medicine to put the bloody puzzle pieces together. When the countdown had reached zero, the fire alarm system sucked the air out of the building to stop the fire before the whole research center could have caught on it.

Namjoon pulled his girlfriend close for a hug, looking for comfort in the warmth of her body but it didn’t help much. His stomach was uneasy because of the guilt he needed to swallow down even though a part of him tried to convince him that what he had done had been for the better. He couldn’t have saved another person beside Yoongi and if he had let Wendy carry Hoseok all the way to the basement she might have not made it. Her well-being must have been more important than a random dude’s life goddamnit even if that boy had never done anything wrong to them and playing God was a cruel game to begin with.

‘Okay, it’s time to get out of here,’ Yoongi spoke up although his voice was wrecked, far from being that firm he had intended it to be. He walked to the iron door and closed it to cover Hoseok’s body then looked around and asked Jungkook to help Yerim stood up. It was his rationality speaking because even after using his inhaler, he felt too dizzy to carry the girl and Seulgi was so out of it that he rather didn’t put more onto her shoulders. Taehyung had Joohyun to lean on while Namjoon refused to let go of his girlfriend who stayed beside him silently. They had been together long enough for Wendy to know when the boy was clingy and overprotective and when he was rather in serious need of her presence to avoid self-hatred. So this time she didn’t protest.

Yoongi walked to the grey wall across the entrance and sat on his heels as he tried to open the trapdoor that was well-hidden but visible once someone knew what to look for. It cracked open with a loud creak and underneath there was a ladder showing the way to the sewerage system just as Seulgi had said. The boy narrowed his eyes but stayed quiet.

Everyone looked at him with expectation, waiting for him to take the first step.

‘Your excellent idea, you go first, Captain Out of Breath,’ Taehyung snorted with mockery clinging to his words and even though he wasn’t entirely right since the idea itself had come from Seulgi, Yoongi clenched his teeth and grabbed the ladder, starting to climb. It wasn’t like they had any other option.

➼ IX. chapter

#code zero #bts scenario #red velvet scenarios #futuristic au #thriller #ssbyme #i have to tell you guys that during this chapter i shipped everyone with everyone #i like wendy and namjoon's relationship and that regardless of their debates they care for each other truly #and the way taehyung looked at joohyun when she agreed with him #poor hoseok tho #and jungkook the ultimate mvp!!#i cannot wait you to read more about seulgi #she is such an amazing character

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mygiantesslove · 6 years

Text

Family Foot Slave (Part 4)

Mandy . . . Mandy Myers was a beautiful sophomore with short blond hair and almond blue eyes. Beneath her right foot dwelt the miserable shell of a person, her ex-boyfriend. She and Melanie walked through the hall to the lunch room. “So, I’ll tell my mom that I found Sean licking my shoes, and that I put him in one of them and came to her as soon as I could. So during last hour, we’ll swap him, alright?” Melanie said as she explained her plan. “Sounds like a good deal to me. Oh, he feels to neat in my shoe. He’s not struggling much though,” Mandy said. “He’s probably pretty tuckered out. I’m sure his family has really worked him over well this weekend. If my plan goes right, his mother will let me and my mom have him overnight to discipline. Then I’ll convince my mom to let me have him, and I’ll come over to your place, and we can just totally humiliate and torture him. That will be so much fun!” Melanie exclaimed. The day wore on long for Sean. Not knowing whose foot he was under kept his mind running through a variety of scenarios as to who it could be. One thing he was certain was that the smell of his assailant’s foot was very strong through the tan nylon mesh that rubbed his body raw. Each step she took crushed the air out of Sean, and reminded him that his freedom was taken away by his desire to be a slave to women’s feet. Tears streamed down his face, and his cries were muffled because his face was repeatedly pressed into the ball of this giantess’ foot. Right after the last hour of school, both Mandy and Melanie snuck into the girls’ bathroom. Mandy had been able to keep her identity a secret. When she went to go retrieve Sean from her shoe, she lifted the heel of her foot out of her shoe, and pressed down very hard on Sean as she dragged her foot towards the middle of her shoe, and then pinched his head between her thumb and index finger, smothering his face, and dropped him nonchalantly into Melanie’s waiting black flat. Sean flew through the air into the hot insole, and his head was wedged beneath Melanie’s foot. The light quickly disappeared beneath Melanie’s all-too familiar foot. Her arch pinned him tightly against the unforgiving, sweat-soaked insole of her black flat. Her tan nylon rubbed into him painfully, like Mandy’s nylon did. The odor filled Sean’s nostrils with her pungent, fragrant, sweaty foot. There was little that he could do, but decide to try to enjoy the odor. But just as he was getting aroused, Melanie began to walk, and she walked right to her mother’s office. ******************* Forty-five long minutes had passed. Joyce, Mary, and Melanie had had a long discussion. Melanie had explained to them that she found Sean licking her shoes during last hour, and that she had no idea how he got there. As a result, she knew to put Sean in her shoe, and after last hour brought him to Joyce’s office. Mary was infuriated—not at Melanie, or even Sean for that matter—at Kim. Kim was going to be punished, and Joyce provided her the materials to do it. Mary had agreed that since Sean “wanted Melanie’s feet that badly” he should be punished by them for the rest of the afternoon and night, and in the morning, he would be given to his sister Jennifer. They were all in agreement, except Sean. He had no idea what was happening, as he spent the entire time in Melanie’s shoe. Melanie was so happy, knowing that she was going to get to torture him with his ex-girlfriend. Mary arrived at her house and walked in to the living room. There, Kim was bawling her eyes out, holding her sandal in her hands “I don’t know where he is,” she said through the crying. Mary walked over and slapped her hard across her face. Kim went sprawling from the couch onto her face on the floor. Mary walked over and placed her foot on the back of Kim’s neck, pinning her to the floor. Mary was wearing a jean skirt, yellow shirt, white socks, and dirty white canvas Keds. “Remember what I said!? If he escapes, you take his place! So, now you will be my foot slave until we find Sean, is that understood!?!” Mary showed no mercy. She removed an eye dropper full of the shrinking antidote and shoved it up Kim’s nose and squeezed. Kim choked on the feeling of liquid being squirted into her nose and hitting the back of her throat, and by reflex, swallowed the entire dose. Mary did the same thing with a second antidote, the fluid that helped its victim be able to withstand the painful crushing. Kim kept crying and passed out as she shrunk, disappearing into her clothes. Mary bent down and found Kim in the middle of her shirt, unconscious. She grabbed Kim’s clothes in a ball and stood up. Mary then dropped Kim into her pocket and proceeded to throw Kim’s clothes into her room. After she recomposed herself after losing her cool, she proceeded to her kitchen and grabbed a glass of water to drink. While downing her drink, she felt a struggle in her pocket. Kim had come to. Meanwhile, Melanie had proceeded to Mandy’s house. She walked in and the girls proceeded back to Mandy’s bedroom. Mandy had changed clothes, and was now wearing a white t-shirt, jeans, and her patent black flats without nylons. “So, what happened?” Mandy inquired. “They totally bought it! I told them that I found him licking my shoe, and that I just put him in my shoe so he couldn’t escape and brought him to my mom. Mary was happy to let me punish him overnight. I don’t have to be home until 10, and it’s only 4 now. When do your parents get back?” Melanie inquired. “Not till late . . . sugar,” Mandy said with a seductive smile. The two locked lips and embraced for a few minutes. Both girls sat on the bed and kissed seductively. While liplocked, Melanie slipped off her shoe and set it on Mandy’s lap. They stopped kissing and looked at Sean. Sean lay very still in the sweaty, smelly insole of Melanie’s shoe. He was exhausted and his body hurt all over and even more so when he tried to move. He opened his eyes, which burned from the sweat, and realized who he was looking at. Mandy’s smile widened as she noticed the fear that simply looking at the diminutive form of her ex-boyfriend instilled in him. Without saying a word, she picked him up and put him in her mouth, sucking on him and enjoying the taste of Melanie’s foot that he had absorbed. She then proceeded to get on her knees, grabbed Melanie’s nylon-clad foot, and began to suck on her toes, rubbing Sean with her tongue against them. Melanie closed her eyes and laid back on the bed, enjoying the feeling that Mandy was applying to her foot. She spent about fifteen minutes sucking on Melanie’s wonderful toes. Sean hated every bit of this, as he was soaked in Mandy’s saliva, and his body rubbed raw from the nylon mesh, adding to his misery. When Mandy was finished, she spat Sean on the ground and began stomping on him repeatedly with her shoe. She smashed him into the carpet like she was putting out a cigarette. Slowly and painfully, she ground and ground him, burning his body on the carpet fibers. The girls couldn’t hear it, but Sean was screaming as loud as he possibly could with the limited oxygen in his lungs. After a few painful minutes, Mandy moved the heel of her shoe on to her victim, and resumed grinding him with all of her weight for about another minute. Melanie grabbed her purse, and pulled out two joints and a lighter. “Care for a hit?” she asked Mandy. “Love one!” she excitedly replied. She lifted her shoe off of Sean, who was crying and convulsing in pain. She picked him up and put him back in her mouth, and grabbed a joint from Melanie, and proceeded to light up. Sean lay on Mandy’s sticky tongue. He noticed a very potent influx of smoke. Mandy just inhaled the smoke, and let it sit in her lungs and mouth for several long moments, which is all it took for Sean to get buzzed. Everything began to move very slowly for Sean, and it wasn’t long before he completely passed out. When he came to, Sean found that he was completely restrained, except his head. He looked down at his body, and was able to tell that he was covered by a skin-tight covering. He heard laughter and the sounds of kissing. Then whatever he was bound to was picked up, and he was looking at Melanie’s smiling face. “You always were a dick, and now, you’re on one,” Melanie quipped. Sean had a puzzled look, and then realized that he had been placed on a dildo, and covered with a condom. Apparently, there had been a small hole for his head to be pushed thru. Melanie opened her mouth and began to suck on the dildo, enveloping Sean quickly in her mouth. After a few moments passed, she pulled him out of her mouth and was lowered to a horizontal position. Mandy’s crotch was waiting. Back at home, Jennifer walked in from hanging out with some of her friends. She said hello to her mother and set her book bag down on the floor, and noticed a tiny slave licking the toenail of one of her mother’s big toe. Jennifer then noticed the longer hair of the slave, and realized that this was her sister Kim at her mother’s foot. “What happened? Why is she shrunk?” Jennifer inquired. Before answering, Mary pinched Kim’s head in between her big and second toe, and curled it under her foot, enveloping Kim’s head tightly, and squishing her beneath her foot. “Sean escaped from her sandal, and I’m punishing her” Mary said calmly. Jennifer had a surprised and alarmed look on her face. “Don’t worry, I know where he is. Melanie found him licking her shoe and trapped him in it. But because he escaped, and I warned Kim about losing him, I shrunk her. She doesn’t know that he’s been found, so don’t tell her. You can wear her all day tomorrow, and Melanie is supposed to turn Sean over to you, too, tomorrow. Wear one in each shoe, and yes, you can wear them both during the volleyball game,” Mary said with a smile. Jennifer’s smile widened as well. “How long is Kim going to be shrunk?” “Probably until Saturday. You can have them both during Homecoming.” Jennifer thanked her mom and proceeded to her room. She lay down on her bed after kicking off her shoes, dreaming about Friday night. The personal pleasure, and the potential torture she had planned for her siblings was all coming to her mind. It had been the longest hour Sean had ever had to endure. He went back and forth between Melanie’s and Mandy’s crotch, trapped on this dildo, and bringing both to fruition a multitude of times each. They were finally done, and getting themselves dressed, leaving Sean to lay on the dildo on the bed. Mandy administered one more humiliation—she grabbed her camera and took a multitude of pictures of Sean in his current predicament, and threatened to post them on her myspace account if he failed to do what she told him whenever they saw each other next. Melanie pulled the condom off the dildo, which reapplied a variety of the girl’s juices, as well as the spermicidal fluid from the interior of the condom to Sean. Melanie then laid him down in the insole of her shoe, and with little care for her slave, slipped her shoe on, kissed Mandy a long kiss goodbye, and proceeded to her car. When she arrived home, Joyce wanted Sean to sleep in her slippers again, and Melanie handed him over. This time, Sean slept nestled under Joyce’s smelly toe crevice, where she scrunched him for a long time to make him experience a very intense orgasm before she headed to bed. Having been forced to release the load that had built up during his evening with the girls, Sean slept painfully at the toes of her captor. **************************** The next day, Melanie wore Sean in her black felt Mary Jane’s that had a bow on the forward part of the shoe. She wore black nylons and a green skirt with matching top. She bound his arms to his side with tape, and had a strip of tape around his knees as well, should he feel ballsy and try to escape in some way. She also had carefully applied a strip of tape over his mouth, forcing him to inhale her fragrant feet. She scrunched him often during class with her toes, keeping him erect most of the time. However, she never allowed him to come to fruition, as she would squeeze him tightly with her toes for several minutes. The feel of the nylon on Sean’s already battered and bruised body only added to the miserable conditions he was enduring in the filthy, smelly shoe that Melanie’s foot inhabited. The rubbing on his manhood was the only form of any redemption this situation provided. Sean was getting used to the constant game of arousal and denial when Melanie’s foot left her shoe, causing a sucking sound in the shoe and allowing some much appreciated cooler air to flow in. Sean was also blinded by the bright light. He then felt some commotion and noticed a finger grip the inside of the heel of the shoe, and then some rapid ascension. Sean began to slide down the slippery insole towards the finger, as the shoe was tipped up. He landed with a thud to the sound of a chuckle that was all too familiar—his sister Jennifer. He was then dumped into Jennifer’s waiting hand. “Thanks! He looks really miserable. I can’t believe he was licking your shoe yesterday!!?” Jennifer exclaimed. “Yeh, he confessed to me that this ‘torture’ is only making his fetish stronger. I didn’t know what else to do with him, so I stuck him in my shoe; figured that’s what he really wanted,” Melanie replied. “Well, I think he’ll change his mind after tonight,” Jennifer said, looking down at her brother with a smile. “Are you going to wear him during the volleyball game?” asked Melanie. Jennifer shook her head, then got up from the desk, clinching her fist around Sean tightly, depriving him of the oxygen that was in his lungs. She proceeded to the girls bathroom. She had met Melanie briefly in a classroom during lunch for the exchange. Jennifer checked beneath the stalls to make sure no one was there, then proceeded to take a seat on a toilet and closed the door. She opened her fist and looked at her bound brother. “I know how much you like this. Mom thinks this’ll make you better, but I know better. I know you want my feet, don’t you?” Sean shook his head emphatically ‘no’. “Don’t lie to me. If you didn’t like this so much, you wouldn’t have been licking Melanie’s shoe. I mean, seriously, she’s one person who you know won’t help you. So, I’m going to ask you . . . do you want me to put you in my nylons? Under my nylons? Or under the sole of my shoe?” Jennifer watched his reaction to the question. He just lay there like a broken captive. After a few moments, she answered for him. “So, under my shoe? That’s kind of a strange place. You like being crushed don’t you? I just happen to have some tape right here in my purse. By the way, you got Kim in a lot of trouble.” Jennifer removed her left shoe and showed Sean a helplessly bound Kim thoroughly taped to the sole of Jennifer’s black patent-leather flats with a lacey bow on the toe as well. These shoes were well worn by both Jennifer and their mother. Kim was screaming and crying through the tape that covered her face. She was having a very hard time dealing with being an inch tall. Jennifer had her taped in a crucifix on the shoe sole, and used plenty of tape. Jennifer didn’t want to end up like Kim—a family foot slave. She slipped the shoe back on, forcing Kim to be crushed as she crossed her right leg on top of her left leg. She removed her other shoe and laid it sole-side up. She gently placed Sean on the shoe’s sole, positioning his head and chest to be right beneath the ball of her foot. With his already bound position, he offered very little resistance to his sister. She placed several overlapping strips of tape on his legs and abdomen. She tried to make it as tight as possible. She purposely left his dick and balls exposed however, and nudged them for a few minutes to get a response from her slave. Then came the tape over his face and head, which completed the tape-cocoon. The smell of scotch tape was very strong and the chemical smell was making his stomach churn. That however was the least of his problems, as the obscured vision of his sister was quickly turned over and replaced with the quickly-approaching cold tile of the women’s bathroom. It was very dark, and the cold of the tile shot through the tape. He heard the sounds of a high pitched squeal from his left. Then, surprisingly, a ton and then some of pressure came from behind him, forcing the valuable air from his lungs, and causing him to black out quickly. The afternoon was long and hard on both Sean and Kim. They were often awake during the classes that Jennifer attended. She often propped her feet up on the book shelf of the desk in front of her, using the wooden slats to torture her siblings even more by slowly dragging them down over them. For Sean, she was able to apply an even more unusually cruel punishment by simply rubbing her shoes on the carpet, pulling and yanking on his exposed cock and balls. They were reddened due to the abuse and torture Jennifer was applying. For Kim, she would focus on trying to push her throat against the wood slats, choking and depriving her of even more precious air. In between classes, while Jennifer walked the halls of the school, Kim and Sean spent that time crushed and blacked out usually. They typically stayed awake for the first few steps, but not much beyond that. Jennifer was also careful to make sure she felt the bulges that her two bound slaves caused beneath each step. The power she enjoyed over her younger siblings was intoxicating and arousing. When 3:30pm rolled around, Jennifer walked out on the hot asphalt, which did tear into the tape, but not enough for freedom, only to apply additional dirt and extreme heat to their insulting existences. Sean came face to face with his big sister’s gas pedal, while Kim was pressed into the dead pedal on the left. It was a long 15 minute drive home, as Jennifer was pretty heavy footed for a 5’6” girl driver. Her Camaro roared down the highway toward their home. ****************** Jennifer sat on her bed, changed out to her volleyball gear. She looked at the pathetic excuse that was her brother and sister, still taped to the soles of her dress shoes. She noticed very slight puffs of condensation on the tape as she watched their naked forms ever so slightly raise and lower the tape. She was contemplating what to do with them for the volleyball game that was a little over an hour and a half away. She laid Kim’s shoe off to the side and with her right index finger began to tap on Sean’s exposed manhood. She smiled as she saw him attempt to quiver and squirm from the pain. This continued for several minutes, much to Sean’s dismay, while she thought of a new torture for her slaves. Then it finally dawned on her to use her work socks from the previous weekend, and sew them up like she had done to Sean on Saturday. She undid Sean’s bindings, and even the tape that had bound his arms and legs that Melanie had applied earlier that morning. Sean moved very slowly in the palm of her hand. Jennifer showed a little mercy allowing him to go free for a few minutes unbound and unmolested in the palm of her hand. Sean felt pain shoot all through his body at every joint and muscle. He curled up into a fetal position and cried from the pain. Jennifer reached down and pinched his head between her index and thumb and held it for a while, stating that she’d let go when he stopped crying. A minute later, lacking oxygen, he passed out with his head being squeezed between her fingers. When Sean came to, his arms and legs were already sewn into place on the foul-smelling sock. Jennifer was applying a few strands of thread crisscross across his shoulders, across his chest, and to the opposite side of his stomach. “PLEASE, PLEASE!!!! LET ME GO!!!!” Sean exclaimed, which was barely audible to Jennifer. She smiled as she tied a strand of thread around his throat, which ended his whining very quickly. “I’ll be nice, and only attach two strands of thread to your throat, but as a trade off, I’ll make it a little tighter.” Jennifer chuckled as she anchored the strand up to around the toe area, and then proceeded to do so with a second strand. Sean was again crying, knowing the crushing steps that his sister was about to administer. He felt the warmth of her foot fill the sock, and the sounds of the sweat-encrusted sock strands stretching filled his ear. However, Sean noticed that he wasn’t beneath her heel, but beneath her arch. The strands around his throat were very tight, and his neck was painfully stretched again as Jennifer sat back and flexed her toes. “I don’t want you to pass out so easily this time, so I’m going to let you enjoy the space under the arch of my foot,” she explained. She stretched her toes several times and enjoyed watching Sean’s face turn purple before letting go. She did him the honor of slipping her athletic shoe on so that he could get used to the foul odor that was going to combine from her sock and her sweaty, well-worn volleyball shoes. Jennifer tied the shoe tight, and then turned her attention to her little sister Kim. Sean’s face was pressed into the smelly, foul cloth of his sister’s shoe insole. The pressure was all around him, as his body was stretched out from being bound to her sock. Thankfully, she wasn’t pulling on the threads around his neck yet, but he knew there was little time before that would start. It was pitch black in the shoe, and in the silence, the reverberation of Jennifer’s heart beat sounded like a pounding hammer in his head. He also noticed that it seemed slower than his, and guessed that it must be a result of being shrunk down to an inch. Then he focused on the smell. He closed his eyes and breathed in deep breathes of his sister’s foul foot odor. To his dismay, he was becoming aroused by it. For a foot, it was very smelly, and the fact that this foot was dominating and torturing him with virtually no effort at all added to the arousal. He turned his head to the side in disgust with himself. How could he allow himself to be aroused by both his sister’s and his mother’s feet? What was wrong with him? He thought to himself that this was going to be his existence—a slave to his family’s feet. Kim didn’t take too well to being bound to Jennifer’s sock. Not only did she tie three strands around her neck, she also put several threads on either side of her mouth, creating a binding that gagged her. Jennifer then tested her torture by flexing her toes. The gag in Kim’s mouth caused her jaw to dislocate, and screams and tears poured out of her when Jennifer released the flex. To quell her crying and screaming, Jennifer flexed her toes back, strangling Kim and causing her to stop screaming. Jennifer held Kim there for about 30 seconds, then released, watching Kim huff and puff for air and then resume her crying. She then flexed her toes again, administering the strangling torture to Kim again, this time, holding it for about 50 seconds, stretching Kim to her limit. Again Jennifer released and the threads around Kim’s neck relaxed some. “Okay, last one. You’ll wake up in my shoe after this Kim. Hope you like,” Jennifer said teasingly. Her toes again flexed upward, pulling on the threads, and causing Kim’s jaw to further dislocate. Jennifer noticed that Kim’s mouth was open exceedingly wide, but didn’t think anything of it. She kept her toes flexed backward for over a minute, and noticed Kim’s body go limp, having passed out painfully at the unmerciful foot of her giantess sister. She lowered her foot down and inserted it into her shoe, where she tied the shoe up very tightly as well. Jennifer noticed the time and figured it would be about right to go to the gym to begin warm-ups.

#g/t #g/t writing

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pass3rby · 6 years

Text

Caught By Your Past

30th Part

Fandom: Assassin’s Creed Pairing: Altair x Malik Warnings: modern AU, mature, OOC, original female character; unbetaed.

“... I swear this face looked much nicer before as well.”

“It didn't.” Also, he won't fuckin' ask for details of how this happened for the fuck zero would it solve anyway.

It was presumably only sheer luck that Gie arrived just then. A coincidence that saved Altair and prevented one solid explosion. Things being the way they were, he rather decided to leave the room without a single word.

He was furious. Every single detail was making him even more angry and agitated. The clock ticking. The same fucking clock that hid in plain sight when he wanted to know what the time was. A nurse greeting him cheerily. Was everything and everyone mocking him?! For his stupidity? For his lapse in judgement?! For the rage that got swiftly painted over with realization before a thick layer of shock landed on top?

The whole hospital seemed like a stage he was never interested in stepping on. Finding the fastest route outside became a goal which was blinking at him like a bright red, neon sign. He had no idea what he looked like. Maybe his stoic façade held. Maybe not. Who cares.

He could've inferred that this wasn't a joke. But could he really? Altair was capable of quite considerable number of things. Even flinging himself off a cliff. Literally. What was Malik supposed to anticipate from the asshole? Anything, that's what. Idiot. He added a few more terms of 'endearment' for good measure. The fuming didn't lessen.

Finally getting out of the complex that crowded him either with the intrusive sense of surrounding sickness or the controverting smell of too much disinfectants, he had no intention of stopping right outside the main entrance he just passed through. Even his BIOS running mind was capable of a more advanced plan.

Continuing down the road, his legs marching on until he chanced upon the nearest store. Situated on the very corner of the street, one of those tiny businesses. He didn't bother its owner very long, only purchasing a single pack of cigarettes before leaving again without so much as goodbye.

- Cliché much? -

Screw you, nobody asked your opinion.

That was just it. Not that his critical side didn't thrive in the ashes of an enemy, but right now, it could be a dear and shut up. Only this once.

Like that had a chance of actually happening.

Walking off in a general direction of the hospital's main entrance that he left through not that long ago, he released the suppressed mess out of its chains. However, instead of flooding him all at once, his thoughts rolled and turned in one steady, lazy stream. It would be almost peaceful if it wasn't for the disquiet hanging over his whole mindscape.

Well if his head won't start...

Fishing out one of the nails to the coffin, he lighted it only to start coughing half a drag in.

Did he smoke? Not particularly; close to never, really. He didn't like the taste much and the level of being able to sort through things easier wasn't that overmuch better to make the smoking worth it. Most of the time. As to why did he even started with it then, he'd simply been stressed; too much of everything except time. That's all there was to the story. Not everything in his life was Altair-connected, fuck you very much.

Continuing with the drag-coughing fit-drag-cough style, it was glaringly obvious that he didn't learn the skill much successfully. Well, at least he wasn't a stressed-out smoker; the one with shaking hand and shattered mindscape. No. He simply needed to sort his thoughts, put them back in order, possibly a different perspective. Re-evaluate. Recalibrate, while all around ruled chaos. This time around, the monster raged more inside him than out, though.

The hospital's front door were on sight already. His pace slowed a bit.

You can go and die for real, see if I care.

That was what he thought when he found out that Altair's broken hand and injured neck that he came home with, were faked.

Did he really think that leveling things up, including hospital staff and everything, will work better? It was still a sick joke, nothing more!

Exactly the same blind anger submerged him, gripped him with its claws, hungrily eating away at his insides and sanity just moments ago. Again.

He would never be one of those people who believed that just their thought brought an injury upon someone, but it did come across like an awfully immediate coincidence. For the second part, he wasn't beyond admitting that he could've used his brain more before storming into a particular hospital room either. The thought that Altair feigned injury once already should've kicked in his mind if only for the eureka moment that would remind him that Altair never tried the same strategy twice if it didn't work the first time around; he adapted.

If he was to judge, everything that happened? It was a simple confirmation, a reminder.

Life is a bitch and we all are her toys.

Taking another drag, the dry cough was on a close follow.

The whole squad of malice and misery must've been on call today, because as an elderly woman stepped outside the hospital to presumably give in to the same sin he was currently committing, apparently, his coughing fit insulted her pride of a smoker or at least sensibilities for she sent him a cross look, possibly counting on him to 'beat it'. Like that would work; not even in his teenage years.

Grow an earplug, turn around or sashay off yourself, madam.

To make his stand clear, he stomped the butt, which was all that now remained of his cigarette, out only to fluidly reach for a new one and lighting it.

Pinocchio wouldn't be able to get his nose as up as the woman just did; not even when lying horizontal and telling lie after lie for a whole day straight.

What was her problem? You didn't have to be or look representative to have a right to smoke. As far as he knew, the state didn't issue Cool Smoker licenses.

Inhaling a fresh lungful of nicotine, his respiratory system acted up accordingly like several times before already.

You just didn't.

His eyes narrowed as the woman tried a scathing look on him. And furrowing her eyebrows? Really?

Lady. I had a really bad day. You don't want this kind of duel with me, he tried to infuse the words into his stare with surprising amount of patience which was, however, rapidly growing short.

Forget the intensity of a glare; he would beat her with ease by the brow hair count alone.

Feel free to watch me choke on this one, hag.

The battle of wills would've probably lasted much longer if the graying matron hadn't have decided to show him how it's done. Only to stop in the middle of the lecture before she subtly started patting the bare minimum of pockets her outfit offered, openly searching through her handbag when she didn't find what she was looking for.

Aww... Poor soul. No lighter?

She looked up at him, no stealth level whatsoever this time around.

His finger slid along the surface of his own lighter still in hand.

He impassively raised an eyebrow.

Giving an outright scowl in turn, she closed her handback again with a definitive air to it and with head held high, the intruder stomped off back inside the hospital.

He watched as her figure disappeared behind the sliding doors of the hospital entrance, smoking leisurely, before deciding that now was an opportune moment to move along. He couldn't summon any enthusiasm at the idea of venturing further or even out of the hospital grounds where was a notably higher concentration of people, though.

Before he could even get to the 'on the other hand' part, a raindrop fell on his nose. Looking up, the sky and the ozone in the air pretty much decided. When he finished what was left of his cigarette, a light drizzle was well underway and by the time the motion sensors of the main doors detected him approaching, the weather reached the "Singing In The Rain" level.

Being not the only one who sought shelter inside and at the same time not ready to go to one particular hospital room, he rather quickly picked a hall at random and off he went.

The weather outside basically gave him a free pass to go wherever since the nurses would be hard-pressed to keep track of everyone inside and passing through right now. wandering around didn't bring him much rest, though. Thanks to the uniformity of the hospital's layout and interior, his attention turned back to the flood inside his head all on its own.

Although he never said anything out loud, he didn't feel too hot about Altair's job, that's a fact. An hour ago, as he'd stood in the open door of Altair's hospital room, taking in the sight, there had been dead silence in his head and only one thought ruling over the otherwise empty space:

He might have accepted that Altair flirted with death on a regular basis, but he sure as hell is not gonna let the fucker play with him and make fun of that!

After reading the medical report and hearing the addition Altair provided, after he realized this wasn't another failed fake attempt to get at him, it would be only understandable if his mind did something along the lines that were usually written in books.

'Scattered in one millisecond, unmoving and with no wind boring into the sails at another. Lost and helpless either way.

Frozen in fright.'

The real deal, the feeling turned out to be quite different. It was nothing and everything, switching up lightning quick. Nothing more, no direction. Just nothing. And everything. On repeat.

Arriving at a crossroad – an imaginary and literal one at the same time, he turned left.

Altair liked to play. No, he loved to play. With others. With boundaries. With his life. Back then, now... The future wasn't about to change that either. In all likelihood he was that way in his previous lives, too, if one believed in reincarnation and let's not continue with alternate universes because he understood shit about it and it was really more of Altair's specialty, so screw that – out of principle if nothing else. Wouldn't the dick like that. And yes, pun intended, whatever!

He's still wild.

We knew that, his brain said, at peace.

He's dangerous.

We knew that, his heart answered, serene.

Well, I'm glad you fuckin' knew that!

You knew it, too. The response was as calm as the previous ones if not even stronger in its tranquility.

He was utterly furious again. Because his sense of self-preservation was acting up again. Fighting these answers. Wanting to run away. To not repeat the same, to stop this before he'll have to relive what he already, in a sense, had once. To hell with what Malik decided on before. It wanted to hightail it out of here.

Well, the self-preservation could go and suck on it, because Malik wasn't leaving. That being said, some events in your life did seem to keep happening over and over again. Too soon. Getting his hopes up, thinking that he's got time before getting struck down.

You cannot know anything, only suspect. You must expect to be wrong, to have overlooked something. Anticipate. He'd never limited this strictly to his job alone so why did he forget now?

No use thinking of the past for it's gone, don't think of the future because it has to come, think of the present because that's where you are.

He didn't get much further than that, though.

“Ah, there you are,” sounded behind his back, relief of the speaker almost palpable. “The miracle; this place is a labyrinth and you're not picking up your phone. I was going mad.” Turning around, he saw Gie closing in on him, stopping only when her arms were already wrapped around him.

His body would have a better chance of giving a twitch after looking at Medusa Gorgona.

What.

“Something happened?” His lips actually moved. That was good.

She released him from the chokehold to berate him straight away:

“Yes, you ass. You disappeared, and I couldn't get a hold of you. That's what happened.”

One day. One day... His ambition to reach at least forty before dying was getting quite a workout as of late.

In order to busy themselves, his hands went for the pockets in search of the piece of technology Gie mentioned, however, the only thing they've encountered was his wallet, car keys and the pack of cigarettes he's forgotten all about by now.

Well, that explains it.

“I must've left it in the car.”

“I was thinking about heading back home for the night anyway. I really got to tackle the test tomorrow. You ready as well?”

“I have a few more things to do.”

“So you... gonna go get your phone...?” He was well-aware of which way the wind was blowing. She didn't hope for an escort to the exit.

“No, I'm not. I'm gonna give you my keys,” he did exactly that, “and if you bring my phone to the lobby in five minutes, you can drive home in the car.”

“What if I drive off straight away?”

He gave her a daring, unimpressed look.

“The time's ticking.”

“Slave-driver.” But she shot from the spot anyway.

That's what you get for making him age in one second flat.

He better get a move on, too, though. Fishing out the nicotine batch, he left it on an unattended reception desk on his way out. He won't need those anymore; let the hospital staff play a game of lucky finder.

Little did he know that he left the cigarettes in the cancer ward.

A/N:

“No use thinking of the past for it's gone, don't think of the future because it has to come, think of the present because that's where you are.” - Kazi Shams (a writer/poet who resides in Canada)

#cbyp #assassin's creed #altmal

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cyrelia-j · 7 years

Text

[Drabble] Inside a Dream (Garak/Bashir)

Messing with short one shots between all the massive work on Limitless so expect to see more of these. (Some will post on AO3, some won’t just kinda depends) IDK what the hell I was thinking here. Between the music and the plot this wrecked me, Jesus. Anyway, this mind trip was based off Echosmith’s “Lesson"

AU but not really, Julian and Garak meet in another place and time perhaps. ANGST warning set at the end of everything (books and whatnot)

“Then I’ll be watching every breath you take And if you wanna play a wicked game ‘Cause all I’ve got to go off Are lessons from a love song”

Julian first sees the lizard man after he buys his cigarettes. He’s leaning against the brick face of the small gas station convenience store looking for a lighter. That’s when he sees him. He rubs his eyes in the red of the sunset and squints, not sure that he’s seeing him right. His vision isn’t as good as it used to be. The doctors told him that he might never properly recover it after the accident. Julian steps away from the building carefully. His step isn’t as easy as it used to be either. “Sir?” He asks as the lizard man comes closer to him. Julian doesn’t see a tail. He doesn’t see an elongated face or teeth like an alligator but there’s something distinctly reptilian about his countenance. His skin is grey, if it can properly be called as such. He has scales. He has ridges running around his eyes, down his forehead and a strange dip in the center. His neck- at least what Julian can see of it- is also thick with ridges. Julian wonders if he’s the only one who sees him. Strange, but there isn’t anyone else around right now.

The lizard man offers him a lighter and he takes it thankfully. This is it then, he supposes. He’s going to lose the last thing that he thought he still had. Oh who are you kidding, Julian, you haven’t had a grip on reality since you woke up. Julian takes a deep pull on the Marlboro Red and thanks him. He expects the man will continue his business inside. Julian wonders if he’s one of those old bastards that smokes Pall Malls. But the lizard man doesn’t go inside but instead continues standing in front of Julian. “Right, well thank you again for the lighter um… is there something I can help you with. I’m afraid I don’t have any change for the bus. Check won’t be in til the first and this was hard enough to scrape together you know I…” Julian trails off not knowing why he’s explaining all this to a complete stranger. “You know I walked here myself,” he finishes with a breath out. He’d rather not be up that part of Brunswick in the dark.

“Yes, I’m proud of you, Julian,” the lizard man says to him and it’s such a strange thing to hear from an even stranger man. “How do you know my name?” Julian asks. He didn’t give it to him. At least he doesn’t think so. He can usually trust his memories. Most of the time, anyway. “You gave me the privilege a long time ago. You might have forgotten. It may have been several lifetimes by some accounts even.” Julian feels his brows knit in confusion at that but he doesn’t question it. He knows that he’ll write it down in his notes tonight. He’s sure he would have remembered such a creature and yet he doesn’t. “I’m terribly sorry then. There was an accident you see so I… I sometimes forget things. I’m afraid I don’t recall your name. But you know me.” He does know why but he can see that the lizard man knows him. He hates that he can’t remember. He takes another puff to calm that agitation. “If you say that you know me then I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to believe you.”

Julian smiles a bit and the lizard man smiles back at him. It looks like it’s painful. Perhaps the facial muscles aren’t meant to contort in such a fashion. The thought of the lizard man in pain doesn’t quite sit well with him. Julian supposes that’s the doctor they told him he used to be. “If it’s painful, then you don’t have to do it. I’ll forgive you,” Julian says trying to lighten the mood. Somehow that only seems to make it worse. It looks like it hurts him more now to smile. Julian doesn’t understand. “Did I say something wrong?” Julian watches as the lizard man draws in a breath before shaking his head. Julian is sure that somehow he’s upset him but he doesn’t quite know how to fix it. Perhaps the smoke is bothering him? Julian attempts to clear the air. “Never,” he hears spoken in a shaky huff. The lizard man puts a hand on his shoulder, and Julian thinks as he catches a glimpse of his eyes up close they’re just breathtakingly blue. He takes another smoke finding that his own hand is trembling.

“You should go home,” the lizard man says giving his shoulder a small squeeze. He’s right of course but it seems a shame now that they’ve just met. Julian doesn’t have a number that he can give him. He’d rather not give the shared line at the place he’s staying now. His room doesn’t have its own phone. They say it’s because some residents need to be monitored too carefully for regression into bad habits. Julian doesn’t think that he can ask the man back either after hours. “It seems a shame. I mean… I mean you clearly know me Mister… um…” Julian really can’t remember even though he feels that he should be able to. “No Mister,” is whispered again and Julian is sure that he keeps saying the absolute wrong thing. “Just…” there’s a swallow and another painful smile. “Just Garak,” the lizard man says. Julian promises himself that he’ll write it in his notebook when he gets in. He tries to hurry his smoke along.

“Garak,” he repeats with a nod to himself. “Promise I won’t forget it this time,” Julian says with a self deprecating duck of his head. “Would it be alright to ask for a number? I just… I just have a few questions, maybe a few blanks that you can help me fill in when you have the time. Well, I wouldn’t be able to call soon. Not the first yet,” he says laughing softly. He doesn’t know if he ever used to have money, things, family. Julian supposes it’s better that way. They told him when he woke up that he had a wife. Lovely woman they said, named Sarina. But she stopped coming two years before he awoke so he never had a chance to meet her. He was surprised they hadn’t pulled the plug on him honestly and relearning to walk was such a misery but they said he was a special case and so even at fifty two years old, Julian just took that to mean that there was something he was left yet to do.

The lizard man, that is Garak, doesn’t answer him and that stare is a bit unsettling but somehow it doesn’t unnerve him the way it ought to. It never did. The though flits into his head and then out again with the breeze. Julian blinks at it staring hard, trying to will his brain to remember. They said it may all come back at once, in spurts, or never anything more than his name and the history that Sarina had provided them. All he knew is that he was a special case and the state would at least see that he didn’t starve. Well God bless the Garden State, he’d thought. Julian wonders if Garak might not have heard him but he sees another shake of that head. He notes that Garak’s hair is white, carefully slicked back. He doesn’t know why Garak’s age hadn’t registered with him. Had he known Garak differently before? “I’m afraid calling won’t be possible,” Garak says and his voice is a lot more even. Julian’s relieved at that. “But I know where to find you now.”

Again, that should concern him but Julian only feels relief at that. The two of them look at each other a moment longer. Julian hopes the next time won’t be quite so awkward. “Well that’s ah… that’s good. It was good, this was good. Meeting you that is… again? And um… thank you for the light.” he says feeling quite silly saying it all that way. Garak nods and wow, he really can’t keep his foot out of his mouth because that misty look is back again. Julian clears his throat and holds out his hand awkwardly to shake, switching his cigarette to his left hand before deciding just to let it drop with a quick crush of his worn red Converse. Garak looks down at Julian’s outstretched hand and instead gently guides his arm up by the wrist. Julian lets him position his fingers and remains still when Garak pressed their palms together, warm between their fingertips.

Their hands are both older, rougher, Garak’s not quite as straight as they once were. He doesn’t know how he knows that but he’s certain of it. Julian can hear the church bells starting to chime for six after they’ve stood there like that a moment. He really needs to go. They both lower their hands at the same time. There are so many things that Julian wants to say, wants to ask, but he doesn’t know where to begin. He thought he remembered being much more brave, more bold, less broken but… but Dr. Parmak tells him that he needs to focus on building on the foundation that’s there. He should tell Dr. Parmak about Garak as well. “Thank you,” Julian says again as he zips his jacket back up and gets his stiff legs moving again. He’s about to protest when Garak wordlessly helps him off the high curb. But he can see that Garak struggles as well and merely accepts the help with silent consideration. Julian shouldn’t have left his cane but he can make it. He always does.

“Take care,” Garak says and Julian thinks he hears something following that sounds like “my dear” but he’s sure he’s imagining such a thing from the strange old lizard man. Somehow that thought leaves him feeling sad as he nods once more and starts carefully walking back the dark city street to his room on the second floor. The darkness tends to make him uneasy but somehow tonight he feels safe. Julian wonders if he really will see Garak again. He can only dare to dream…

The room shimmers back around him, and Garak nearly collapses when it does. And when he does Parmak is there to catch him as best as he can. A few feet away, Julian lays silently on the bed, not stirring. The strange mutants that used to look up to Julian had said that the modified holoprojector would be able to manifest the world inside Julian’s head the same as any holoprogram. Their leader, Jack, had said it was the least that they owed Julian for everything that he’d done for them. Garak had thanked them politely but hadn’t believed them. He was sure as he’d said to Kelas that there wasn’t anything left there. Kelas was never one to accept such things so easily. Kelas had opted to use the device in Julian’s room where Garak was afraid to. Every week for months, Kelas would come to him and tell him that Julian was there, that Garak needed to see him. Kelas was right.

Julian needed him. Garak wasn’t there.

“Elim?” I would have left him there if it wasn’t for you. Garak feels Parmak’s arms tighten around him and he doesn’t understand how Kelas has remained so strong. “Breathe for me Elim. You need to come back too.” Garak realizes that he had in fact collapsed. The both of them are twined around each other like two miserable orphans clinging. He can’t imagine that Kelas is comfortable under his weight but he makes no complaint. Kelas always seems fragile to those who don’t know him but Kelas is an unbreakable iron tower who suffers every lean Garak has to make on him. Garak can see that his spectacles are hopelessly fogged. Kelas tells him to breathe again and he finds his breaths are shaky. “I’m sorry, K-kelas I can’t q-quite seem to…” “It’s alright, Elim,” Kelas whispers to him. “He’s alright.” And that’s when Garak figures out, wise and brilliant Castellan that the reason he cannot breathe, the reason that he cannot see is because there’s water in his eyes and water in his lungs and he thinks that he very well might die drowning in that anguish. “Kelas,” comes out as a pitiful whimper, comes out as raw pain as he says the name again, unable to do anything but bury his face into the comforting warmth of Kelas’ shoulder. Kelas is always warm when everything else is cold.

Just like Julian was. Just like Julian is. And Garak is going to see him again.

“Won’t you tell me all your sweet little lies So I can die here in your arms tonight? ‘Cause all I’ve got to go off Are lessons from a love song”

(I couldn't resist adding more so here's Part 2)

#star trek ds9 #star trek deep space nine #ds9 fanfic #fic drabble #garak/bashir #garashir #julian bashir #elim garak #angst #fanfic

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barpurplewrites · 6 years

Text

Ghost Clause - Chapter 6

The Story So Far (HERE)

I’d like to thank @leni-ba for the FUIP Friday prompt of: moonlight, The Woman In Red, "why did you come?" that got my Muse in gear again for this fic.

-x-x-x-

“What do you have to feel guilty for?”

Gold flickered from view and for an instant Belle thought the cup in his hand would fall to the floor. Watching the steaming cup of tea float towards her was unsettling, part of her was looking for the strings that her brain told her had to be there. The cup settled lightly on the table and Gold flickered back into view. His lips were quirked in a small smile.

“I believe it is my turn to ask a question Miss French.”

She took a sip of her tea and shrugged; “You set the precedent for answering follow up questions.”

“So, I did,” - He chuckled and settled himself in the chair opposite, - “Very well, in my lifetime I felt guilty for many things. I was a coward when it came to love, I clung so tight for fear of loosing those dear to me that I drove them away.”

He fidgeted with his cufflinks, unable to look her in the eye, he focused on the oval of gold as he continued.

“Neal was the centre of my world, when he ran away I thought I’d turn to dust. It might have been better if I had, instead I became cold and bitter. I took a perverse delight in spreading my misery as widely as I could. In less than a year I had acquired a new nickname here in town; the Beast of Storybrooke. I was a nightmare to my tenants, but the most despicable treatment I reserved for Jacob Mills.”

Belle’s brow creased, that name sounded familiar to her, but before she could ask for clarification Gold held up his hand to halt her.

“I’m sure you know the name, but please let me tell the story first. I’m not sure I can make it through this if you interrupt.”

She nodded and sat back. This was clearly difficult for him; her questions could wait.

“I want to make it clear that Jacob was a good man, a loving father and a devoted husband, he was even a good friend to the miserable excuse for a human being I became. His renown for fair and honest business dealings was as famous as my own reputation for the opposite was infamous. He had everything I had lost, and my envy was a dark demanding creature. I set out to take it all from him, starting with his wife.”

Gold raised his head and looked directly into Belle’s eyes. The heartbreak plain on his face made her gasp.

“I seduced Cora Mills and it was the worst thing I ever did.”

-x-x-x-

Years ago in New York

Gold stretched and reached for his cigarettes and lighter. Cora wrinkled her nose and slid out of the rumpled mess they had made of the hotel bed.

“You know I despise that habit.”

Gold’s only reply was to tilt his head back and blow a long plume of smoke at the ceiling. Cora huffed and stalked into the bathroom letting the door slam behind her.

The moonlight streaming in through the open drapes painted the room with silver that leached the colour from the expensive furnishings. Cora’s red dress made a dull puddle on the floor that put him in mind of an old bruise.

Three months they’d been screwing behind Jacob’s back, and the small thrill was long gone. Gold flicked the ash from his cigarette into the glass ashtray he was balancing on his bare leg and bunched the sheet over his crotch. He’d set out to destroy Jacob’s happiness because it made him sick, but it had turned out that the happiness was as much of a sham as his lust for Cora.

Cora whispered of a distant husband, an ungrateful child and a divorce on the horizon. Gold probably would have ending this affair before it began if it hadn’t been for her flattering interest in his way of doing business.

“Oh Nic, that’s wonderfully cutthroat. Jacob would never be so brave.”

“What a clever way to maximize profits, it’s simple genius Nic.”

“You know so much about contracts. I adore the way you bend words to your will.”

It was pathetic how he let her stroke his ego, but his business was the only thing he had left, the only thing he could take pleasure in no matter how twisted. Screwing Cora was a physical release, but it didn’t fill the empty hole in his chest.

He ground out the cigarette and stared unseeing at the pile her clothes made on the floor. He only blinked when she began to redress. He’d not even heard her leave the bathroom, that would annoy her, Cora did like to be the centre of attention.

“Why did you come tonight, Cora?”

She glanced at him in the mirror as she fixed her ear rings.

“To say goodbye.”

“Are we over?”

She turned in a rustle of fabric and gave him a pitying look.

“Of course, we are over, Nic. I wanted to know how to get ahead in business, and Jacob’s good-two-shoes methods are infuriating. But you, well you are the best at what you do, and I wanted the best teacher. The sex was a fun little bonus.”

Gold lit another cigarette, revelling in her disapproving tut.

“It would do you well to remember I am the best. Come after my business and I will destroy you and yours, dearie.”

Her sudden laugh grated on his nerves.

“Nic, you are far too much fun to have as a rival, why would I want to spoil that?”

She blew him a kiss and left him alone the room that still reeked of her perfume cigarettes and sex. It should have been the scent of shame, but Gold was to empty to care.

-x-x-x-

“I was a ruthless bastard in business, Miss French, but with what she learned from me Cora Mills became something much worse. She used our affair to cow Jacob into signing over controlling interest to her, claiming that if she had work to focus on she wouldn’t have time to stray again. Within six months the good name he had made was all but destroyed, but Mills Construction flourished. Low cost housing hit new lows with Cora in control, and thanks the lessons she had picked up from me the leases were designed to penalize tenants for everything.”

Belle shook her head; “You can’t blame yourself for the decisions Cora Mills made. You’re neither her conscious nor keeper.”

He gave her a wry smile; “I can and do. I thought nothing of Cora for years, not until the day Neal called out of the blue in tears that his son was in hospital. The death trap apartment they had rented was one of Cora’s. Without my influence, without my bitter business practices they would have had a safe home, instead of one that has laid a death sentence on my grandson.”

Silvery tears spilled down his face; “It has to be my guilty and shame keeping me here, because if it’s anything else the same thing might happen to Henry,” – his voice cracked, - “Henry doesn’t deserve to be trapped in this unchanging state, he should get to grow up and live a full happy life, or at very least move onto a better place.”

Belle couldn’t sit and watch him sob. She hurried from her seat and moved as close to him as she could without touching him. One hand rested along the back of his chair and the other lay next to his on the table. He turned his head towards her, if they had been able to touch he would have been resting on her shoulder. It wasn’t much, but her nearness appeared to bring him some comfort and he wept. Neither noticed the faint shimmer surrounding their touching fingertips.

#rumbelle #ghost clause

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shinkanefanatic · 7 years

Text

One Last Time Ch 2, a Shinkane (Psycho Pass fic)

Read chapter 1 here:

Chapter 2: One Last Time

_________________

"Sorry, Inspector. Looks like I won't be keeping my promise again."

"Kou...gami..."

Akane's entire vision was warped beyond repair, the horrifying scene before her filling up every one of her senses. Her mind tried desperately to process what had just happened, but no matter how much she tried to get her brain around it, the Inspector could barely fathom the events that had just transpired.

One moment Kougami was right there, touching her, pushing her out of the way and speaking to her as she saw his smiling face fade away. The next minute, the only thing Akane could see was a literal rain of crimson and broken flesh. Some of the sticky red liquid had covered her face and torso- the disgusting scent of it burning her nose painfully.

She gave little thought to her body's negative reaction to the smell or sight before her though. All she cared about was one thing that she desperately needed an answer for: what in the hell had just happened and why?

Akane's eyes were blank and empty, unsure of anything. Her ears continued ringing loudly, the sound of the dominator firing off still pounding away at her eardrums, making it difficult to hear anything. Unknown to the young detective, a frantic Ginoza was shouting at her as he steadfastly approached her, meanwhile Kasei cackled amusingly in the background.

After a few seconds, the ringing sound finally dimmed down inside Akane's head, giving her some form of hearing back. When Gino's voice finally reached her, Akane tried to turn around towards him. However, instead of meeting the sight of Ginoza, the shadow of a different person suddenly loomed right in front of her gaze. A female in a suit with dark brown hair tied back in a scrunchy stood before her- wearing a look as heartless as the devil himself upon her freckled face. Akane glanced from the other Inspector's familiar face than turned her gaze to the dominator in the woman's hand, noticing it was set on lethal eliminator mode.

It took a moment before the short-haired female's brain put the pieces together. From the gun, Akane turned her eyes back to the spot soaked in an ocean of blood and bone. Suddenly, everything clicked.

"Why..."Akane mumbled, her sight locked onto the matter that had once been Kougami Shinya.

Her teeth clenched together tightly as she choked on a giant lump that had formed in the center of her throat. Akane's eyes shook wildly in her sockets, her face flushing red in fury. Without warning, the brunette jumped up and took hold of the other Inspector's collar as hard as she could.

"WHY DID YOU SHOOT?!" Akane was more furious than she ever had been before. More than when Makishima had murdered her best friend right in front of her. More so than when Sibyl had revealed the truth of the system to her. Even more than when she was handed her grandmother's ear in a box during the Kamui case. Her blood literally felt as if it were boiling; her insides on fire as her heart felt like exploding at any moment. Akane began shaking the person she held onto violently, her very soul feeling nothing but a intensely burning hatred as she locked eyes with the Inspector, "Tell me why...Shimotsuki!"

Ginoza could do nothing but watch as he stood a few feet away from the two, his face paler than a ghost's and despair making up his entire face. Like Akane, he could hardly believe what had just happened. For a minute he thought Akane was escorting Kougami to the vehicle to transport him back for interrogation. A moment later he saw Akane being pushed to the ground, followed by the sound of a dominator screaming out Just as the Enforcer had made his way over to get a clear view of the situation, only one thing caught his eye before he felt his mind go blank. Kougami's body, expanding, twisting around violently before exploding in all directions, his flesh ripping apart allowing blood and organs to fly out and onto the pavement near where Tsunemori laid.

Now there he stood, having flashbacks to the last time he had seen Akane become this angry, only this time, it was far worst. He could tell by Akane being hardly able to catch her breath , possibly hyperventilating after witnessing such a thing. Ginoza hated to admit it, but he was well aware of how much Kougami meant to her. Now, the worst possible thing had happened. What should he do? Was there really any way to comfort Tsunemori at this point? Would there be any way to calm her? Hell, even he wanted to go over and shout at Shimotsuki Mika. But more than that...

Ginoza turned his gaze upon a smiling Kasei.

More than anything, he wanted to demand answers from the very woman who had sworn to allow Kougami's escort back to the PSB.

"Why,why,whywhywhywhy-" Akane continued to shake Inspector Shimotsuki as hard as she could. All the while, Kougami's face flashed over and over like a movie in her mind. When Mika didn't supply an answer after five minutes of endless shaking, Akane tore her hands away from her and spun around. The 26 year old stumbled back and forth, caught between trying to regain the ability to breath and to scream out as hard as she could. Her mind swirled around like a vortex inside her head, her pupils insanely dilated.

Ginoza became unable to bear the sight any longer and began stepping carefully towards the distressed woman, unsure of what to do. All the Enforcer could think of was to try and call out to her. Hopefully then she'd be brought back to realty enough to take at least a breath.

"A-Akane...hey."

However, Ginoza's efforts had the opposite desired effect.

Instead of responding to him, Akane seemed to fly even deeper into her panic episode. She grabbed her head and stumbled further towards Kougami's remains. Once her shoes were stepping in the pool of blood, the Inspector fell to her knees and began shouting again,

"He broke it...he broke it again. Kougami promised-" In chocolate orbs reflected the images of flesh, eye balls, and organs all souped together. Her stomach churned violently but she didn't throw up. Instead, the screaming continued. Soon, Akane's cries were so wild, they were completely inaudible to everyone around her.

Akane's reaction felt like an iron fist had stuck straight into Ginoza's gut. The man shook in his boots as he watched the woman he cared deeply for fall completely into the worst state imaginable.

Suddenly, Mika broke her silence. What she said instantly made Nobuchika become seething with fury.

"Oh, would you stop with the drama, Inspector? You need to grow up!"

Gino's teeth pressed together as his brows furrowed together. His bright green spheres burned brightly.

Mika walked towards Akane who was doubled over, her face nearly sinking right in the blood she lay in. The younger Inspector clicked her tongue in absolute disgust and shook her head as if completely appalled at the sight,

"My god, and you call yourself a detective? He was just a pile of trash threatening our society. The Chief already told you- that Kougami Shinya would be erased tonight. What else did you expect?"

Akane didn't respond and continued to wallow in misery as she began gripping at parts of Kougami's clothing that had somehow survived the annihilation.

Mika grunted loudly and turned away. She couldn't stand to look at her senpai anymore. It was so completely pathetic. However a pathetic excuse of a woman like Akane had made it to Inspector status remained a complete mystery to Mika, even now.

It was at that moment Gino's temper finally rose to the surface. Of all the things Mika had said to Akane over the years, this took the cake. He could no longer sit idly by and allow this.

"With all due respector, Inspector...!" Ginoza growled at he approached her, ready to give her hell.

Mika showed no interest and simply shot him a glare back, "Enforcers have no right to speak before Inspectors tell them too, Ginoza. So shut up and stay out of it."

As the Inspector and Enforcer went at it, Akane tuned out the yelling and was left alone feeling not misery or despair anymore, but emptiness instead. Tsunemori sat there, her eyes completely devoid of any life or emotion as she stared down at the bloody box of spinels she had found among Kougami's remains. She gently traced the corner of the damaged box with the tip of her finger. As she did so, Akane spoke quietly to herself,

"I...should try lighting one...if I do, he'll show up..." Akane gripped the box tightly and held it to her chest, "Kougami will show up...just like always..."

Akane decided to do just that and dug around in the pocket of her skirt for a lighter she often kept with her for such an occasion. After pulling it out, she removed one of the cigarettes from the box and proceeded to try and light it. She kept flicking the lighter again and again, waiting for the smoking stick to light. In the empty void that were her eyes the sparks from the lighter flew one after the other. Eventually, it finally worked and the cigarette lit. The familiar scent emitted the air around her, pleasing her senses.

The smell traveled over to Mika and Gino. The moment the two smelled the cigarette, both stopped with their banter and turned to Akane. Mika spouted some angry nonsense about the action, while Ginoza frowned deeply as he watched Akane stare at the spinel in her hand quietly.

"...Hey...Tsunemo-" Gino tried to place a hand on Akane's shoulder but froze when he saw her suddenly turn back towards him.

"Ginoza," The Inspector's eyes carefully darted from Gino to the empty areas around him, almost as if she were searching for something. When she didn't find it, Akane forced herself up, took hold of Gino's jacket and looked up at him with her desolate eyes, "...He's not coming."

"...?" The Enforcer's brows creased in concern. He reached down and gently gripped Akane's hand with his prosthetic, "What do you...?"

"Kougami...he's not showing up. But he always shows up when I light one." Akane held up the cigarette and tilted her head slightly. Her voice was as monotone as could be as she spoke, "...Do you know...where he is, Ginoza?"

Nobuchika's eyes widened slowly. He tried to call out to her again but felt his voice catch in his tightening throat. The 34 year old was forced to swallow as he let her continue.

"Did he get away again? I had my eyes right on him, so I don't understand..."

Gino's eyes trembled painfully as his grip on her hand grew, "Akane..."

"Why won't he come..." Akane's face fell, her bangs covering her eyes. The cigarette that was held between her two fingers dropped to the ground and into the blood at her feet, "I don't understand...he always..."

Akane's hand slipped out of Ginoza's as she dropped back to her knees. Gino fell down with her this time, worried beyond belief for her.

"Akane, please..."

However, it now seemed that said woman was once again deaf to anything else around her. She continued to ask for Kougami over and over as Gino tried to gently snap her out of it.

Mika stood there, arms crossed, looking fed up with the situation. She let out a large sight and turned back to Kasei who was now standing with the rest of division 1 that had been called back from their posts. Like Ginoza, each member of division 1 looked completely disturbed by the events. Yayoi especially, considering she had known Akane, Kougami, and Ginoza the longest. It was unusual to see Yayoi with anything but a poker face on but at the moment, her face was clearly beyond upset. Mika felt one little pang of guilt at the sight of the woman she actually cared for but put it out of her mind the moment it surfaced. Ignoring it, she made her way back to the Chief to ask for further orders.

Kasei patted Shimotsuki on the shoulder and mumbled a "Good work, Inspector." before walking over to Akane and Gino.

When he sensed her presence looming over them, the Enforcer decided it was time for answers. Gino removed his hands from Akane and stood up. He turned to Kasei, took a deep breath and braced himself as he spoke out strongly,

"Why...did you go back on your word, Chief? Please explain your actions here tonight."

Kasei raised a brow curiously at the hound dog's question, "My word? I don't know what you mean, Enforcer Ginoza."

It took all the man had now to plow his fist into the old woman's face. Gino breathed deeply, "You had specifically ordered we in division 1 to assist with arresting the fugitive Kougami Shinya. I believe you even told Tsunemori you'd agree to allow her arrest him. So, I ask again, why? Why did you allow Inspector Shimotsuki to kill him?"

The MWPSB boss kept to herself for what seemed like the longest time; when finally, her lips curled up into a disturbing smirk, "I see there was a misunderstanding here, Enforcer, so I shall- No, I will allow the Inspector to clear up any questions on this case." Kasei turned to Mika who quickly followed over.

Mika nodded and locked eyes with the latent criminal in front of her, "You seem to think the Chief ordered you all here to help arrest that man. That, is a mistake on your part, Enforcer."

Gino clenched his teeth together furiously, "Then why the hell did we come here, Inspector?"

"What you all came here for tonight was to fulfill one thing- To make sure Kougami Shinya didn't leave this place alive."

Akane's body could barely been seen jolting in the background.

Out of no where, Yayoi jumped in, hoping Mika would give a better explanation to her at least, "Wait, that wasn't what our orders were." The black haired woman looked towards Kasei and then to Gino, "We were all there. The Chief's orders were 'Surround the area where Kougami Shinya was spotted and await his arrest.' You told us we would only kill him if he tried to resist."

"That..." Mika trailed off as she turned away, unable to look Yayoi in the eye, "...Look, only Inspectors were privy to the entire truth of this case. We needed the Enforcers to come along in case things got...ugly. That's all."

Yayoi and Gino along with Hinakawa and Sugo standing beside them all fell silent. For a moment all that could be heard between the group was the low rumbling of the wind. The next moment, a deep laugh began to sound. Everybody turned to Ginoza who was holding his face in his hand,

"I see...I see now. Fine then," Gino's laughter slowed down, his face still hiding his face as he addressed Kasei again, "I have just one more question, Chief."

Kasei's grin had blown away with the wind, "...Go ahead."

Nobuchika's hand slowly moved away, revealing a frightening scowl that was enough to make Mika jump in her shoes, "Why the hell did you lie to Tsunemori then? What was the point?"

"It was a test." Kasei's grin returned.

"A...test?" Sugo questioned.

"What...? What sort of...test?" Hinakawa mumbled anxiously.

Kasei turned her attention back towards Akane who still sat on the ground, her hunched over back the only thing facing them. The old woman began taking steps towards the young detective. With each movement, the Chief explained,

"Over the several years as an Inspector, Tsunemori Akane's hue has never once hit critical levels. Over the MWPSB's course, I've noticed it common that with time, many Inspector's minds start to become...warped, after a certain period of time. It happens more often then not, you see." Kasei now stood right behind Akane. She pulled her dominator back out and aimed it right at the back of the woman's head, acting as if she were going to fire it again, "...However, there is an exception to this commonality."

Gino neared jumped out of his skin at the sight of Kasei's hand on the dominator's trigger as she held it nearly against Akane's head. Before the tall male could object, his boss' explanation continued,

"Inspector Tsunemori here is that very exception. This was the final test, to see if my theory was truly correct. And as luck would have it..." Kasei's eyes glowed a bright turquoise as Sibyl scanned over Akane's hue. Once the results displayed themselves on the holographic screen, mad laughter echoed once again among the group. This time, it's source being Kasei.

"I always knew it would turn out this way." Kasei continued to chuckle to herself, leaving not only the Enforcers at a loss, but Mika as well.

Shimotsuki was somehow afraid to address the Chief but gathered the courage to do so anyways. She inched a little more towards Kasei, trying to get a glimpse at her face, "Um...Chief?"

Between her cackles, Kasei seemed to mumble to herself. All the while, Akane didn't move one inch from where she was sprawled.

"Even after watching Kougami Shinya, the man you valued more than anyone else, die from before your eyes..."

Akane began to turn towards Kasei. As she did, the old woman's grin widened until her face was practically twitching from the excitement.

"Your psycho pass, it's..."

The moment the rest of division 1 saw the look painted upon Tsunemori's face, each one of the hell caught a horrifying chill down to their very bones. Kasei practically cried out insanely,

"Her psycho pass is as clear and pure as ever! Completely clean! So clean, it's disturbing!"

As Kasei's maddening laughs went on, Gino could barely believe what he was baring witness to. He had always known Akane's mind was one of the strongest he'd ever come across. It shouldn't have seemed so unusual now. Although...the fact that her crime coefficient was an actual 0, his thoughts were only reminded of one thing. Makishima Shogo.

Kougami had been murdered, violently, suddenly, right in front of her. It was Akane's worst fear come true. She had even broke down and screamed, freaked out. Despite that, her hue seemed to have, if anything...relaxed. It didn't just not increase. It wasn't simply a matter of her hue not changing at all. No, it had actually gone DOWN. An action that only happened when people became relaxed or...in the rare case that they were unable to be judged properly by Sibyl. The only times Gino had seen such a thing was with Makishima Shogo and Kozaburo Toma. Both were criminals the PSB were left unable to judge.

One thought ran through Nobu's mind right then.

Why is Tsunemori...like them...?

Akane didn't react to any of Kasei's laughing or the concerned looks of her coworkers. She simply watched back at them, her face as blank as a sheet of paper. No tears ran down her cheeks. There wasn't any sign of her crying at all actually, despite her earlier wails and anger. In the brunette's eyes were a reflection of her hue, clear as could be.

"I always knew you were like us." Kasei whispered, careful not to let the others behind her hear. The Chief then extended her hand towards the Inspector, "I think it's time you've stopped putting it off, don't you, Akane."

Akane silently reached out and took the hand held out to her. She was pulled up and stood there, almost mechanically like.

"Come now," Kasei placed her other hand on Akane's shoulder and gripped it firmly. Her lips fell down towards Akane's ear, "You've always mentioned your desire to protect this society and its people. I know you were against it before, but Inspector, you must realize by now that joining Sibyl is the best thing for you. As well as Japan. So, what do you say?"

Akane said nothing. Her heart felt as empty as an eternal abyss. There was nothing in the world that mattered to her anymore. The Inspector felt only one thing as she nodded her head at Kasei without any reluctance- and that was exhausted. She just felt, so damn tired.

Kasei grinned triumphantly, "Wonderful. You have no other attachments after all, right?"

Akane glanced over her shoulder at the remains one last time. At that, the girl barely managed a mere, "No."

While it was true Akane still had her parents, Kaori, and her friends left in her division there for her, it never once crossed the detective's mind. Not even once. The exhaustion she felt, halted all of her senses and thoughts. All she wanted was to go to sleep. For a long, long time.

"Well then, shall we go?" Kasei turned to Mika and ordered her to escort the rest of the division back to the PSB. Meanwhile, Kasei and Akane climbed into the escort vehicle after having a nearby police drone clean up Kougami's body, or what was left of it.

As Akane got into the car, Gino began desperately asking Shimotsuki questions. What was happening now? Why? Where was Tsunemori being taken, and for how long? Anxiety swirled around the center of the male's chest as bad feelings took over every fiber of his being. In his mind, he saw his old self- the version of himself who still wore glasses and held the scowling demeanor.

His old self adjusted his glasses and shot a glare at him, "What are you doing? The Chief's word is absolute, so don't you dare try to interfere. Just stay back beside your master, like the hunting dog you are."

Meanwhile, another reflection of Gino appeared before him, but this time it was that of the current time. His expression was filled with sorrow and fear, "Don't let the Inspector leave! If you do, Tsunemori will...!"

The two versions of Gino internally fought back and forth before finally, the Enforcer took hold of Mika's arm.

The woman nearly flew out of her skin at the feeling of being touched by a man, and a latent criminal at that. She wrinkled her nose up in disgust, "Would you give it up already! I told you, the Chief is taking Tsunemori somewhere only Inspectors are allowed to know about. Hunting dogs have no need to know so just shut up!"

"I can't just shut up and obey orders this time, dammit!" Gino's voice shrieked out loudly, startling both Mika and the rest of division 1. The Enforcer began to tremble all over again, all of his emotions slipping out at once. His grip on the Inspector's wrist strengthened as he peered up her between his fallen pitch black bangs, "I can't explain why I feel this way, but I know...I know if Tsunemori leaves here tonight with the Chief-"

It would be just like Kougami.

Tsunemori Akane, as he knew it, would vanish from existence.

Tears began welling up in the corners of Ginoza's eyes as he flashed back between the loss of his father and best friend. He brought a hand over his face, his face paling disturbingly white as his cheeks became wet, "I can't...Not again."

Mika just looked at the Enforcer like he had completely lost what little was left of his mind. She reached behind her and took hold of her dominator that had been resting in its holster under her coat.

Ginoza's hand covered his eyes as he stood there, utterly lost at what to do. Like Akane, he too had lost many loved ones over the years. Nobuchika couldn't take it anymore. Not again. He may have not been able to save Sasayama Mitsuru. His father Masaoka Tomomi. Or Aoyanagi Rika. Not even Kougami Shinya. If he let Akane go too...

"...I won't be able to forgive myself." Gino hiccuped as she grabbed Mika by both of her shoulders. The woman let out a shriek and shouted at the other Enforcers to get their dominators and aim at Ginoza. When they didn't, Mika began to panic. Gino paid no mind to this and pleaded, "Please, Shimotsuki! You're the only one with the power to stop the Chief! Tsunemori can't go, do you hear me?!"

Mika slithered her way out of the man's grasp and jumped back. She pulled out her dominator and pointed it right at Gino, causing it to instantly go into lethal eliminator mode again. The Enforcer continued to plead his case but it mattered not.

Ginoza was frozen silent when he heard the transport vehicle start up. As the car drove off, the 34 year old began to chase after it, as fast as his long legs could carry him. However, as the car rushed past him and just before his foot hit the road's pavement, he heard Mika shout at him,

"Make one more move, Enforcer Ginoza, and you'll be a pile of mush on the sidewalk just like your fugitive friend!"

Gino instantly stopped but breathed hard and fast, his entire being screaming out at the world to let him give chase after Tsunemori.

Mika looked behind herself at Yayoi, "Kunizuki, would you please handcuff him?"

Yayoi couldn't agree to or deny the orders given to her. Instead she walked over to Gino and patted his shoulder very gently.

"...I don't think...there's much we can do at this point."

Gino looked at Yayoi with a look of utter despair. He fell to his knees and continued to cry out the same thing over and over- Akane's name filling up the streets of nighttime Japan.

One thing plagued the emotional hunting dog as he doubled over, screaming out. Ginoza Nobuchika knew, that like with his best friend Kougami, he would never see Tsunemori Akane again.

____________________

Akane laid upon a cold table; the only thing covering her was a thin white sheet surrounding her bare body. An IV was hooked up to her arm while she awaited for Kasei's return. Only a few more minutes would Tsunemori be existing inside of her body before her consciousness was stripped away from it and joined the rest of the brains inhabiting Sibyl's core.

As the Inspector laid there, Akane thought over the last few years. She thought about her first night as a detective, and how foolish she used to be. She remembered the night she lost Yuki, and meeting Makishima for the first time. The dominator failing her when she needed it most, and afterwards, talking with Kougami about it in the hospital. Soon after, he left and she chased after him to stop him, but her efforts were simply wasted. Everything Akane had been through up to that moment, there was only one word the young woman could use to describe it all:

Pointless.

The doors to the secluded room opened and in stepped Kasei who appeared to be wearing a medical cap, mask, and shirt. The Chief approached the table and prepared to send Akane under for the procedure.

"Are you ready, Tsunemori? You're about to go from a measly Inspector to assisting in Sibyl's rule over this very country and its people. Quite the promotion, I'd say. You should be thrilled."

Akane still didn't respond. She had decided to remain unmoving, unfeeling like a broken doll until it was over.

Kasei snorted with amusement and placed a mask on Akane's face. The old woman hit a button, supplying the mask with a large amount of a sleeping drug. As it filled the detective's body, Akane felt her consciousness begin to waver back and forth between realty and sleep. While Akane's mind began to shut down, Kasei told her not to worry and promised that her brain would be safely transported over in a matter of mere hours.

Akane felt her eyelids drooping more and more. Just as she was about to allow them to close for the last time, something out of the corner of her eye caught her attention. At first, she planned to ignore it but then, a familiar voice echoed right beside her. Akane felt a jolt and shot her eyes open. Her heart sunk at the unbelievable being standing right next to the bed.

Unknown to Kasei, there beside Akane was the broad figure of Kougami, all still in one piece. Akane tried to call out to him but the task soon revealed itself to be impossible with the mask on. Instead, the Inspector tried to reach out with all the strength she had left, but that too, proved impossible. The anesthesia had numbed her body from the neck down.

The only thing Akane could do was stare back at his figure while she flashbacked to the night's previous events.

Suddenly, large tears filled her eyes as regret overcame Tsunemori. She desperately wanted to apologize. She wanted to run to him, to throw her arms around him and hold on tight.

Though unable to voice her thoughts, Akane fought through the drugs and began mouthing to the hallucination at her side,

"Kougami...Kougami..." Tears fell streamed down her face, emotion finally returning to the grieving Akane, "I'm sorry...I'm sorry I couldn't..." Akane caught a hiccup and pleaded out in her mind more, "Don't go...please...don't leave again...I'll do anything, so please..."

Shinya's voice echoed back at her in response. Akane's eyes widened as he seemed to lean in closer to her. His hand grasped hers tenderly. The hallucination's arm brought her hand up to his imaginary lips, placing a kiss against the top of her hand.

Tsunemori's tears fell harder when she saw a warm, loving smile from Kougami peering back at her.

Not again. Not that damn smile again. The very same one that belonged only to her. The one that never failed to make Akane feel safe, and put her mind truly at ease when things would become too hard to handle alone.

Without realizing it, Akane returned the grasp and held on as tight as she could. Uncontrollable sobs began to slow down and fade as her consciousness took its last few breathes, so to speak. Only one thought crossed Akane's mind as she fell further towards a deep slumber.

I wish...I could have held his hand like this...just once...

The last few tears fell as Akane's eyes finally closed. As they did, she saw Kougami's lips form a sentence before her vision disappeared.

At that moment, Akane fell completely unconscious. Oddly enough, a small smile had found its way onto her face as the Inspector's soul faded away into the darkness of her subconscious- all the while, Kougami's words filling her up like the sweetest melody she'd ever heard.

"You did well...Akane."

____________________

Author's comments: End of chapter 2! Only one more chapter to go. That one might take a while, but I'll try to get it up ASAP. I apologize again for any misspellings, bad punctuation, and OOCness.

PLEASE leave a review so I know what you guys thought! Please, please, please

#psycho pass #shinkane #shinya kougami #akane tsunemori #ginoza nobuchika #kasei joshu #mika shimotsuki #yayoi kunizuka #fanfiction #otp #anime

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mulder-isms · 7 years

Text

The storm that I believe in - (Thorcid Fanfic)

A\N: Ti’s the season to water the thorcid crops! So this part I of a Christmas special I’m working on 🎅 As usual, songs are my main inspiration and this fic was inspired by a The Cardigans song.

As usual, send me note, a slap in the face, any sign of life 👋

December 2011

A long time ago in a distant birthday and sunny California little Jamin got a sketchbook for his 7 year old birthday. He liked gardens and he spent a whole afternoon, his knees digging in the dirt, trying to catch all the details of the different leaves and petals, but not the flowers as a whole, focusing in all their unique details. Flowers could look all the same to some people, but not for him.

Somehow he never stopped noticing all hidden details in people. Jamin was excellent in cutting people’s bullshit, but as his sister always pointed out, it was a curse and a blessing. He could be somehow oblivious to their emotions too.

It was Christmas again. It took him time to accept the bleakness and nostalgia of New York Christmas, and even more to Brooklyn Christmas. His very small family wasn’t there and his few good friends could kept him company on that night.

The bar was crowded as usual and the weather was damp and windy. The forecast was for an unusual storm. Red Christmas lights were dim in the cloud of smoke hovering the booths. The thunders were lighting up the sky warning that different paths were being made or diverted.

Jamin never celebrated his birthday, that happened in the beginning of the week, so his friends wanted at least to take him out to a celebration of sorts the other day. There were some places in Brooklyn he just couldn’t go and some queens he didn’t want to see. But it was a special occasion, even if he didn’t want it, so he agreed to meet Alice and Ethan, a couple of actors he became friends with during the rehearsals of Caligula Maximus. He was very excited about the theater production, and doing something different besides drag was giving him room to breath again. To see life outside pretentious and obnoxious younger queens that were getting on his nerves.

When Jamin got to his booth he removed his black sweater revealing the gray t-shirt underneath and military green cargo pants. His hair was messy, a bit of eyeliner under the eyes and bleached blonde for the character, which was a pain in the ass to keep it that way, but necessary to break through. Betty was always changing hair colors but Jamin always felt safer with the black locks. At least the thick arrow glasses were on so he could hide somehow from unwanted encounters.

He checked his phone as ordered a drink for the waitress. Alice’s message on the screen saying she was stuck in traffic. Jamin looked through the glass of the booth outside and it was definitely raining. They wouldn’t make it in time for sure and he was exhausted and wanted to go home. He sent Alice a message to not even bother, he was going to finish his drink and be on his way before the sky collapsed.

His eyes were wandering over the booth and faces on the bar when a familiar one walked in the wooden doors. Thorgy entered the place quickly and shook himself like a golden retriever on the doormat. It’s been ages since Jamin saw him out of drag, in his full Shane form. He was probably meeting someone in the bar since he went directly to the counter and asked for a drink.

Jamin drew back his attention to his cellphone to see if Alice replied and lowered his head even more so Shane couldn’t see him, but he kept looking up over people’s head observing him. Maybe it was the rain but Shane didn’t seem bubbly as usual. He removed his round glasses and covered his face for way too long. That too long that doesn’t mean you’re tired, but too sad to care if you’re crying in a bar.

“Fuck” he muttered annoyed with his own empathy. He knew Thorgy for quite a long time and that was legitimately the first time he saw him not laughing like a crazy person or way too quiet.

Alice finally replied and said it was okay, that she was staying in Ethan’s house because the world was going to end in a big storm that night. The thunders outside as scenery of a horror moving trying to blend with the Christmas songs playing inside. It was mortifying to see Thorgy like that indeed.

Thorgy was confident and vibrant. Shane otherwise, as Jamin gathered from the their casual meetings, was the typical nerd from the band at school hiding in baggy clothes and oatmeal beanies. He didn’t know how the hell he could help that defeated kid.

Jamin got out his booth and went on his way, having the strange sensation of deja vú, of that night a few years ago when they were also talking on a bar’s counter and ended up making out in a bathroom’s stall.

“Um, Thorgy?” he touched his shoulder lightly as Shane was playing with the straw of his drink and staring blankly into the bottom of the glass.

He side looked and opened a smile and wiped his wet face with the back of his palm, his glasses had raindrops and he was very wet. He positioned himself and pat on the stool next to him, a sigh for Jamin to sit.

“Betty? Hi! Oh my god, the sky is falling down. We’re gonna need a boat to get out of here. Girl, it’s been ages!” he replied slapping his knee a few times in the speed of light avoiding actually looking at Jamin, calling the waitress. “Make it double. Are you?”

“No, I’m leaving. I mean, I was leaving. I was supposed to meet some friends here but they got stuck”

“Me too! I was going to TnT to see Ruby but she managed to get there and the show probably has started but I’m stuck”

The waitress arrived with the shots of whiskey and Shane gulped down two shots. He seemed already drunk even before that. Jamin widened his eyes and chuckled. Shane shrugged and finally actually noticed Jamin’s face.

“Your hair! Oh my god I love it” he said running his fingers through Jamin’s hair with no ceremony and caressing his forehead absently. Jamin had forgot how Thorgy was very into physical contact but somehow never made people uncomfortable about it. A true gift. The tip of his fingers were a bit rough, probably because of the years of violin practice.

“Oh! It’s for that play, right? Bitch, people are talking about it. Acid Betty taking over the musicals.”

“Yeah, probably hoping that I bomb”

Thorgy agreed laughing. A genuine laughter this time.

“Are you okay, I noticed you from my booth. I mean, you seemed a bit upset, I don’t know….” Jamin tried awkwardly to find the words while Shane observed and appreciated his effort.

“This is one of the few moments I’m going to use this, first because I’m drunk and second because you don’t have forty minutes so I can explain you in details the whole thing. Long story short: my boyfriend broke up with me last week. Not because he cheated, which he swore he didn’t, but because he fell in love with somebody else”

Jamin grimaced and Shane raised a finger like he wanted Jamin to wait although he didn’t say a word and he gulped down a bottle of beer the waitress left while he was talking.

“And he is already dating that somebody else. Who happens to be a drag queen also. I don’t think I ever loved someone like I loved him and that’s it. So my plans for tonight is getting caught by this storm and my body will be floating on the sewer in the morning.”

Jamin pondered a bit as he watched Shane playing with his straw in silence and was watching the tv on the bar’s wall.

“Look, I’m not gonna say that he is a jerk and you deserve something better. Even though I think you do. This sucks deep balls and you’ll be drenching in this misery for some time but it will pass. It doesn’t feel like it now, but hold on to that thought”

Shane stared at Jamin and opened a sweet smile under his puffy eyes and red nose.

“You’re...nice, Betty? I’m telling everyone”

“Shut up. I’m leaving, and please avoid the sewers” he said standing up the stool when Shane’s face froze in complete panic. Jamin looked behind and he saw a couple of two guys next to the bathroom standing up and he connected the dots quickly. “Are you fucking kidding me”

Shane couldn’t even answer.

“Please, stay, I can’t do this by myself. I look like a wet Afgan Hound” Shane pleaded squeezing his leg, his eyes already glistening.

The couple was approaching them, but only the tall brunette with a thick beard come forward.

“Shane… Hi, I didn’t, I- how are you?” he stuttered.

“I’m fine. Um, Jamin, I think we can go home? I’m going to the cashier can you”

Jamin didn’t know how to react but he just followed Shane’s lead and they both paid their drinks. As Shane held Jamin’s hand he noticed how sweaty and cold they were. Shane was silent the whole time, probably trying to contain the turmoil of emotions inside.

They went outside the bar and the rain was still strong, making the city look like a melted painting. Luckily there was a taxi outside, the first thing to go right in that weird night. They both got in in the back seat. The taxi driver greeted them and Jamin looked at Shane hoping for directions but he seemed so troubled he decided to take control.

“I can stay in your place until the rain is lighter. Greenpoint, right?”

Shane just nodded relieved and covered his face not being able to control his tears anymore. Jamin hesitated to place a hand on his back but did it, rubbing as he listened to his friend sobbing.

The whole way to Shane’s apartment was quiet and somber. He was a bit drunk and Jamin helped him to get the key in the lock and when he turned on the light Jamin analysed the place. Different objects and decorations all together, a cello on the corner.

Shane was taking off his shoes on the way and removing his drenched sweater throwing absently on the couch and reaching for a bottle of wine on the fridge.

He turned on the stereo in the living room, handed a glass to Jamin with drops of wine falling on the carpet but didn’t mind and collapsed on the couch holding the bottle. Jamin recognized Billy Holiday singing. He was a bit hesitant of sitting on the armchair across the couch but he peered outside the window, the rain was still heavy with no signs of fading away.

“It’s ridiculous, right?” Shane uttered his first words after that half hour of silence.

“This night has been extra” he replied gulping down his glass and deciding to sit while Shane drank from the bottle. “You should get some sleep. Change into dry clothes. Girl, you drank the whole bar”

“You’re right” he uttered trying to sit down but he stopped midway as of he suddenly had an epiphany “Do you think we’ll ever get married?”

The question made Jamin’s stomach swirl and a thunder rattled loud outside.

“What?” Jamin asked laughing of his nonsense. “Oh, you mean, the right to get married.”

“Um, so you were that serious with him...”

Shane nodded completely zoned out still motionless staring at the coffee table in front of him.

“It’s raining like a tropical forest in the middle of December. Everything is possible”

“I really thought he could...you know what I mean?I don’t think anyone would ever endure me...there is always this point where they’re like, shit, what am I doing with this crazy person”, he waved pointless his hand. “But he really seemed to understand me. To see me. Not the whole, but the different parts and not getting tired of them. Well…”

Jamin observed him for a bit while the man finally got back on his feet. The words still echoing in his head.

“I-I’m going to bed and watch whatever is on TV. I have clothes” he laughed at how stupid his sentence sounded. “I have DRY clothes, the heater doesn’t work here we can sleep together”

Jamin’s reaction was immediately shaking his head. He was devastated and drunk and he didn’t want that night to get even weirder.

“Sha-

Shane interrupted him raising his bottle as a defense document in a court, “I know I sound like I wanna fuck you but I can’t even find the zipper of my pants now let alone suck a dick”

Jamin thanked the living room was kinda dark because he really felt his cheeks burning.

“I mean, I know you don’t wanna have sex with me, I’m ridiculous and I don’t even know if you’re a bottom and-”

Jamin got up quickly pushed him to walk towards the room before the whole thing got even more awkward.

“Ooookay! Just go first and I’ll be there in a minute”

Jamin checked his cellphone for a few minutes and he was starving. He took the liberty to look for something in the fridge. Jamin knew Thorgy had a roommate and he wondered where was him. He grabbed a bottle of juice and drank a glass, a neutral food that probably nobody would mind him drinking a glass.

He remembered Shane’s last words and laughed shaking his head. His plan was to stay and offer help if he feels sick and leave right after since it was getting late and he needed to be on rehearsal early in the morning. He checked the fridge again and there was ice cream. Jackpot.

Nothing better than sugar to heal broken hearts and possible monumental hangovers. When he got into Shane’s room he was all spread on his bed, laying on his back watching what it seemed to be...The Mighty Ducks?

“I love December tv” he announced with the ice cream on hands. Shane looked up and smiled positioning himself to sit crossing his legs.

Jamin noticed he was wearing worn out pajamas shorts and a tank top. Shane was skinny, but had broad shoulders. They were covered by freckles and unusual tattoos, a circle on his shoulder, crooked circles on his collarbones and chest, bubbles under his arm and a woman’s name on the inside part of his arm. His legs were very hairy and paler than the rest of his body. He was an unworldly creature.

“I’ve never noticed you’ve had so many tattoos” Jamin commented handing him the pot and retrieving a spoon for himself. Shane dug even fast and was lickling his finger that was covered with the white cream in a such a sinful way that made Jamin quite unsettled. Oh god.

“They are all bulllshit but these ones”

He raised both of of arms showing the inside part of the night one.

“Mom and Brahms. She gave me my arms and he gave them purpose” and then he made a mimic of playing a violin with using his spoon as a bow giggling.

He felt a connection with him, they were completely different people and still had this shared pain of losing a mother but finding themselves through art and music. The first time actually seeing Shane undressed of all the things that he wore as a disguise and now he could understand Thorgy’s exaggerated acts. Shane kept digging the ice cream, his rhythm was slowing down and his eyelids getting heavier.

“Are you not changing? You’re getting a cold…” he noticed being quite wise for a drunk but his eyes never left the TV.

“I’m taking off these pants. My shirt is still dry”. He removed the pants and luckily he was wearing shorts underneath. Even though they had cartoon french fries patterns all over it. He noticed Shane checking him out even though he was very languid.

“Cute” Shane teased smirking innocently and Jamin picked a pillow and covered the front of his briefs.

They ate the whole ice cream pot while commenting the movie. As time was passing, they were getting closer, leaning on the bed’s headboard, the pot in the middle of them. It was the first time of Shane watching the hockey movie and he was very excited about it, dozing out in some parts, but never stopped talking and questioning the plot holes of the movie. Jamin knew that the rain was finally taking a break, but he was too comfortable to leave.

“Emilio Estevez was so hot I’m watching all of his movies this week”

The movie ended Shane was laid down again, his head almost resting on Jamin’s thigh, his cheek touching the fabric of Jamin’s shorts.

“I could totally be a hockey player...but I’ve always been too tall and clumsy to skate” he mumbled and yawned as the credits were going up.

Jamin was feeling very sleepy too so he slid on the bed and laid beside Shane while “We are the champions” was playing in the black background of the TV. Shane was lying on the side, his breath on Jamin’s neck and he could feel his eyes on him.

“Go to sleep, Shane”

“What’s your favorite Queen song?”

Jamin deep sighed and gave up turning to lay on the side too, facing Shane. Their faces were very close, their knees almost brushing, he could even smell of the wine mixed with vanilla ice cream of Shane’s breath. His glasses all crooked with the position, because he was using his hands as a pillow.

“Killer Queen” he replied fixing Shane’s glasses and brushing some dreads back that were tangling his neck. “I take yours is probably Bohemian-

They both answered together “Rhapsody”

They kept staring at each other, Shane’s eyes completed clouded. Jamin didn’t even know how he was still up with the amount of alcohol he drank.

“You really look hot with this bleached hair” Shane cut the sexual tension creating even more.

Jamin scoffed but when he realized Shane was already pulling him for a kiss. Oh fuck. Here we go again. Wine and Vanilla ice was an excellent combination and Shane’s lips were swollen and soft, his leg was already over Jamin’s hip pulling him closer. He really, really tried to not kiss him back but Shane had an incredible grip for a drunk, grinding on him desperately and Jamin trying to pull away.

“Shane, Shane...you’re drunk...” he whispered gathering every ounce of willpower on his body to not getting turned on, but with Shane’s cock rubbing on his stomach, covered only by that the thin fabric of his worn out shorts... it was too much to handle. Shane was now sucking on his neck making Jamin brush his lips on Shane’s neck unwillingly. He was hot and smelled like the rain outside.

Jamin stared at the ceiling hoping that a lighting hit them both because he wasn’t going to be able to stop.

“Please...don’t you want me? Please...” he pleaded moaning and reaching for Jamin’s cock which made him positively in panic. Jamin was faster and grabbed both of Shane’s wrists and pulling away. Oh he wanted him, and it was pretty obvious since he was getting rock hard.

“Shane, this is a mistake and I’m not taking advantage of -

His eyes were closing and his limbs getting softer. Jamin released his grip and in seconds Shane was passed out and snoring, his leg still over Jamin’s hip.

“Great” he grunted annoyed.

He slowly set free from his embrace and stood up fixing his hair, all hot and bothered.He looked down at his own erection on the shorts and shook his head thinking about how that night escalated to absolute chaos.

Jamin took a quick shower, and even though jerking of naturally crossed his mind he just felt too weird about it. He got the couch to sleep with no Shane interventions. He slept with the jazzy sound of Billy Holiday. A really good night of sleep.

He woke up with the smell of scrambled eggs and a brunette man, with black long hair staring at him. He was sitting on the armchair in front of him, the image finally getting focused but he needed his glasses so he fumbled on the coffee table until he found them.

“Morning. I’m Alvaro. Shane’s roommate” Alvaro waved at him with a starstruck face holding a bowl of cereal. “You’re Acid Betty, right? Big fan here. Your drag is amazing. I mean, really drag, not the clown stuff Shane does…”

Jamin sat on the couch shyly and just nodded sitting properly and getting relieved that he put his pants on before sleeping. Shane approached them handing Jamin a plate with scrambled eggs and two toasts and an orange juice. He picked a chair from the kitchen and sat next to Jamin on the couch embracing his long legs.

“Girl, that’s the least I can do, I feel so embarrassed” he said placing a hand on his palm.

Jamin wondered if Shane was embarrassed about making a move on him or the night as a whole, but he seemed oblivious.

“Shane told me what happened. Ouch. I never liked that guy anyways, he has terrible taste for men. He is a very annoying drunk. It takes him ages to finally shut up and sleep so bless you”

Shane nodded in agreement feeling worried. He actually looked better that yesterday. He wasn’t wearing his round glasses and Jamin could see his face with nothing on the way for the first time. All his individual details lit by the morning sun. That nerdy kid from the band was actually a very handsome man. Alvaro and Shane noticed that he got a little bit distracted gazing at Shane.

“Um” Jamin realized what he was doing and cleared his throat and reaching for his shoes, “Aren’t you not even a bit hungover?”

“No. Norwegian blood. But I can’t remember shit after the taxi...just that we watched The Mighty Ducks and ice cream?” Shane questioned rubbing his forehead trying to remember. He didn’t seem faking it.

“Yeah, that was it” Jamin reassured him maybe afraid of sounding too disappointed. Alvaro kept switching his gaze between Shane and him very suspiciously like he was watching a very interesting soap opera. “I have to leave.” he wolfed down the eggs and took the toasts wrapped in a napkin to go. “Bye Alvaro. I don’t have any Betty gigs for the moment, but I’m on Caligula Maximus, the opening is next week”

“I’ll definitely watch it” he replied with a smirk still holding his bowl.

Shane followed Jamin to the leave and he was holding the door searching for Jamin’s eyes.

“Look Betty, I mean, Jamin, I think our friendship reached another level after yesterday, right?” he smiled exasperated. “Really, thank you for being my...boat yesterday”

He smiled and shook his head. He had to keep the memory of vanilla and wine only for himself.

“You’re a cuckoo bird. Take care, Thorgles…”

Shane closed the door and touched his own lips, as if they had traces of something he couldn’t recall. He joined Alvaro in the living room and ate the rest of the scrambled eggs Jamin left.

“So?” Alvaro asked, “How was it? Fucking Acid Betty?”

Shane coughed the eggs a little bit and drank the juice to help him swallow.

“What? We didn’t do anything. Didn’t you hear the story? I was pathetically drunk and still am heartbroken”

“Exactly. You had that man in your bed and you didn’t do anything?”

“That’s Acid Betty, she is my friend and you’re crazy”

“That is a man. Honestly, you didn’t learn nothing from me.”

They kept eating in silence. Shane tried really hard to recall what happened but everything was a blur. But he was pretty sure he just fell asleep while they were watching a movie.

“Not even a friendly handjob to distract from the heartache?”

“STOP” Shane was chewing mortified putting the plate down.

“ At least you’ve made out once in that New Year’s eve”

“Yeah, and it was so good he got back to his boyfriend the other day”

“You do have a point” Alvaro finally agreed, drawing his attention to the bowl of cereal. “He is single now though”

“Oh my gooooood” Shane grunted annoyed leaving his friend laughing alone victorious.

The memories of that New Year’s eve would haunt Shane from time to time, and maybe he was getting too good in suppress what he could possibly felt after that day. He started washing the dishes and recalling the look on his ex-face in the bar, the wound still fresh. Somehow he felt healed, because he did remember Jamin’s old lady cackle and the feeling of being comfortable with someone that could see him. The memories not clear, but his body reacting, the sensations still sparkling inside.

#rpdr fanfiction #thorgy thor #acid betty #thorcid

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soveryanon · 5 years

Text

Aaand reviewing time for MAG142.

- I have no idea whether it was a conscious decision or a recording accident, but Jonny’s voice, when reading the episode title… was different – less filtered, closer, with more “grain”? And it was telling you, right away, that something would be off and different.

- VA E. Lockley was… incredible and yeah, the woman’s delivery (the distress, the stuttering, the messiness, the slightly rambly bits)… made her feel even more present and “close” than Helen (in MAG047) for me. Character-with-her-own-situation, who got messed up, who is in distress, who is not fine and is trying not to crumble. There were even a few parallel with her experience (after the Buried encounter) and Jon’s, post-Prentiss, that made her even more heartbreaking: like him, she did physio (MAG050, Tim: “Well, there was a police woman asking after you. You know, the one who came to look into Gertrude. […] Uh… yesterday. You were at physical therapy.”); unlike him, she went to therapy (MAG058, Martin: “Look, look, you just got to let me work through this. Alright? I suggested therapy, but he just says no, so–”) and… like she said, “did everything [she] was supposed to do”:

(MAG142) WOMAN: I had pretty bad, uh, nightmares, claustrophobia, I mean… Obviously, right? But, uh, but–but I did my physio, and, you know, talked wi–with the counsellor they gave me? Look, I did everything I was supposed to, and–and yeah, I… I guess I was fine.

… and everything got utterly ruined because of what Jon did to her, while she doesn’t even have enough knowledge to blame him. But we… we know. It was very important to hear her voice indeed? And Martin handled her with proper care – not doubting for one instant that she was telling the truth, leaving her space to tell her story, validating her, even though the story wasn’t what he wanted to hear… or what we wanted to hear, either. (And because of the content of the story: no, there is no way she could have been written as lying or putting things out of proportions – she even pointed out how the police would treat her, it would be absolutely insensitive to write someone filing a harassment complaint as lying or misinterpreting things. So, everything she told really happened to her in the TMA-verse, even though it’s not a pleasant truth.)

- … yeah, so we have Jon going after “stories”: they’re not “statements” anymore, he didn’t use his markers (“Statement begins/Statement ends”) with Floyd and the woman didn’t make any mention of them either, nor did he give the date and the person doing the recording – we only had an indication about the date thanks to the (meta) episode case. It’s not about archiving, it’s about… consumption. And he’s not receiving the stories either: he’s extorting them, forcing people, instead of them coming to him (as statement-givers coming to the Institute). It’s even more symbolically significant that Daisy went to talk to Martin right after the woman’s departure since… so far, Daisy had been the only person we knew for sure had been forced to give her statement, back in MAG061, as she pointed out to Basira later:

(MAG061) ARCHIVIST: Whatever you like! Fourteen years, you must have seen a number of paranormal things. DAISY: And you want me to tell you about them? ARCHIVIST: I–I… DAISY: Okay. ARCHIVIST: What? DAISY: Okay! I’ll give you a statement, about how I got my first section 31. You look surprised. ARCHIVIST: I mean, I was largely asking as a formality. Basira didn’t give the impression you were the… sharing sort. DAISY: Maybe you caught me in a good mood. […] ARCHIVIST: Right! Thank you! Are you quite alright? DAISY: No. I never told that story to anyone except my old Sergeant. ARCHIVIST: I’m not sure I, uh… DAISY: I should go.

(MAG091) BASIRA: Just let him go. DAISY: You don’t know what he is. You don’t know what it’s like to have your secrets pulled out like teeth, just because he asked?

It had been… softer and subtler, when he had done that – it was striking that Daisy didn’t want to talk, until Jon began to probe and she began to accept (Jon himself had been surprised by the change); the compulsion had only been confirmed by her harsh departure and the way she recalled the events. Meanwhile, the woman, in MAG142, was absolutely preyed upon, cornered, violated, and her voice actor did a fantastic job? But oh Lord, was it so, so hard to listen to, even without factoring in that it was Jon doing that to her. I think we’d never had something this violent and desperate…?

Meanwhile, from Jon’s portrayal in MAG142 (two weeks ago) and what we saw in MAG141, he seems to be getting more… frantic? He waited for a while before interacting with the woman, but he almost jumped on Floyd, although he had just been told they would still be sailing for two days (so they would be stuck on the same boat for a while). And it does… kind of fit with something we know about Jon:

(MAG092) ARCHIVIST: And you can’t just give me all of the statements? ELIAS: Jon, even when you had them all at your disposal, you barely got through one statement a week. Why do you think that is? It takes its toll on you. And I know you’ve had problems with moderation.

… that little problem about “moderation”. (Which was probably tying in with the fact that he used to smoke before the Institute, and has been back to smoking at least by the end of season 2, when he left Leitner to have a cigarette – and he still had cigarettes on him when Daisy went through his stuff in MAG091 and with Gerry in MAG111. Not to mention the whole Web lighter affair, whatever it’s actually doing to him.) It’s also… kinda… relevant… that The Woman in MAG142 described him as being fed through her reopened trauma:

(MAG142) WOMAN: His eyes, like… his eyes, like, we–were… drinking in every fragment of my misery. I can’t… It… [PAUSE] And then it was over. And he looked… he looked at me like he’d just eaten… like, a perfectly cooked steak.

Because Elias had narrated Beholding’s influence on “The Archivist” as creating hunger, precisely:

(MAG120) ELIAS: And at last, the Archivist looks up. At last, he looks into The Eye that sees all, and knows all, and clutches at the secret terrors of your heart. The Ceaseless Watcher of all that is, and all that was; the voracious, infinite hunger that tears at his soul, invoking him to discover, to observe, to experience all and everything and forever.

Fuck you, Beholding.

… and I’ll allow myself One Joke about the whole ordeal, because:

(MAG115) ARCHIVIST: [DEEP SIGH] I suppose in some ways it’s strange I’m not a vegetarian yet, what with everything I know. But… I rather think someone in my position has to take their small pleasures where they can, and if it occasionally delights some grotesque meat-god, well… c’est la vie.

You REALLY should have tried to go vegetarian back then, Jon :/

- … Which makes it a bit curious that he… was described as “tired”, then?

(MAG142) MARTIN: … Ah, uh, alright. Hum… Did he… [SIGH] … Did he look like he hadn’t slept in like– WOMAN: Mm–mm. MARTIN: –a week? WOMAN: Yep, uh… MARTIN: … Right…

Like, obviously, it was… in a dark humour way, hilarious that Martin was able to guess it was Jon with just “someone from your Institute stalking me” and that his way of describing Jon was to point out the lack of sleep – Jon Is A Perpetual Tired Man and this is the man Martin has a crush on. Confirmation that it’s not about physical appearances (Canonically mlm and hot Tim was RIGHT THERE, Martin, and you went for “that”, and we still don’t know why or when it began, but there’s still so much room to shame your tastes.)

But you would think that… if Jon had been going around pulling statements out of (unwilling) people, he would be/look… rested? Well? So: was she the first one? Was Jon trying to avoid his dreams, until he snapped? Is this a matter of “starving” and only going for it when he was too hungry…?

- ;; Jon looked… so one-dimensional in that state? And as Martin said amongst his hypotheses, all “instinct”. Which makes me think about three things, and they’re not happy:

* Mike smelling a prey, actually?

(MAG075, Stephen Walker) “It was as Grant was making his gradual ascent that I saw the man with the scar. He was stood there, just across the street, watching us. […] His pale eyes were entirely focused on Grant making his excruciating way up the ladder. If he noticed me watching him, he gave no sign of it.” (MAG091) MIKE: A… uh, a Paris skyscraper, was it you said? I honestly, I, I can’t say I recall it in detail, but that does… sounds about right. Sometimes it’s hard to keep track.

(DO YOU KEEP TRACK, JON.)

* The whole thing about the Creature Under Alexandria reaching for Sergeant Walter Heller (especially since… Heller might have had a Spooky encounter before meeting it? So was it attracted to that story?) and HUM…

(MAG092) ARCHIVIST: So it’s… it’s back to breadcrumbs, and statements, and risking my life talking to things that barely remember how to be human anymore? […] Am I… Elias, am I still human? ELIAS: Jon, what does human even mean? I mean, really? You still bleed, you can still die. And your will is still your own, mostly. That’s more than can be said for a lot of the “real’ humans out there. … You’re worried about ending up like that thing, lurking in the dirt under the streets of Alexandria? Don’t be. Just do what you need to, and you’ll be fine. Understood?

Elias, why are you so full of lies. (Though it’s possible that, indeed, Jon didn’t do “what he needs to”, and that he’s been… doing extra-work/is out of control. But MMMM. MMMMM.)

* *CRIES IN TIM*

(MAG114) TIM: So, why don’t you “Archivist” me, then? Just pull it straight out. ARCHIVIST: Because I don’t want to! I am not your enemy, Tim. TIM: [DISMISSIVELY] Like that matters! These things aren’t human. It’s… instinct. You can’t not. ARCHIVIST: [SOFTLY] I’m still me, Tim. [TIM HUFFS] I’m still… me. TIM: [EXHALES DEEPLY] … You know what? You’re actually right.

LIKE WOW??? RUDE??? TIM STOKER DIDN’T GO OUT WITH A BANG FOR THIS??? (It’s… super-upsetting, to me, that Jon Is Currently what Tim had accused him of being/turning into back at the time ORZ ORZ And if we get Jon back, and/or if he’s confronted about it, I wonder if… the fact that he would be disappointing Tim would be a point to be made.)

- So, turns out that MAG141 indeed wasn’t a first try, and there is the obvious question of… how long Jon has been extorting live-statements here and there, since the fact that we didn’t hear any recording of the woman beforehand means that we haven’t been hearing Everything of Jon’s spook-related activities before MAG141. Possibilities regarding the turning point:

* Since Jon woke up and was released from the hospital (after MAG122).

* Since… after the coffin? Given Elias’s comment in MAG135 (“Consider it a test – things are… coming, things that will need Jon to be far stronger and more willing to use his connection to our patron. His performance during The Unknowing was… disappointing. I needed a way to force him to harness his ability more acutely than he had before. The coffin was a useful tool; Daisy an adequate bait.”), I don’t really feel like it could have been a thing before – I mean, the way Jon behaved in MAG141 and was described in MAG142 screamed “very willing to use his connection to their patron”… And Jon had mentioned a few things after the coffin:

(MAG135) ARCHIVIST: I don’t… like interacting with the rest of the Institute these days. The way they look at me, I– … I don’t know. I don’t know what they’ve heard, what the rumours going around are, but… they have definitely heard something…! [SIGH] And they can’t wait until they don’t have to talk to me anymore. Can’t honestly say I blame them, none of this is easy. Everyone’s just trying to get through as best they can. Living one day at a time. [SIGH] But I can’t afford to be just living one day at a time, I need… a plan. But I don’t even know what I’m trying to achieve… And no one… no one wants to tell me.

(MAG137) ARCHIVIST: Ever since I crawled out of that damn coffin, I feel like I’ve been… adrift. Filling in blanks and diving into History, but only…! [EXASPERATED SIGH] The breadcrumbs I’m finding are… stale. Old. … What the hell is The Watcher’s Crown? […] I feel like I’m on a deadline, like I’m running out of time somehow – and I don’t even know where to go! What to look for, o–or… [EXHALE] Just casting around blindly for more clues to just… drop into my lap. Everyone else is… running towards something, or running away, and I… [SIGH] I don’t know what I’m doing. [PAUSE] [SIGH] I’m just tired. Think I might go lie down for a while. Get a cup of tea. [HUFF]

(Though, I feel like this option is reaching and stretching… a lot: because DUH, the staff would have had a lot of reasons to be wary of Jon or of the Archives in general without even factoring in the possibility of rumours that Jon had been mentally manhandling people (he… was losing it a bit already in season 2? He ran away and got accused of murder for two months before coming back? He spent six months in a coma after a wax museum exploded? Tim was ranting to everyone about being bound to the Archives, and people thought it was mostly depression, but then he died in said explosion?); and DUH, Jon would feel aimless after the coffin, when his return to the Institute had been a succession of settling back in, trying to get updated on the assistants’ current state, saving Melanie from the bullet, almost immediately focusing on the Rescue Daisy mini-arc from episode 128 to 132, leading to her coming back and… then nothing else, no Main Goal anymore, and just time passing.)

The biggest clue that someone could have been happening behind the scene after the coffin is Jon’s intake of statements: there were 10 between MAG122 (February 15th?, Jon waking up) and MAG132 (March 24th, inside of the coffin), including one extracted statement (Breekon’s, MAG128), one tape from Gertrude (with Lucia, MAG130), one live-statement (Jared’s, MAG131) and one recording from Jon (rescuing Daisy, MAG132), so 9 “active” pieces of content in six weeks if you exclude Gertrude’s… and then, only six until the end of May (MAG140), including one recording from Gertrude (MAG137), so five “active” pieces of content in two months if you exclude hers (+ 2 statements read by Martin, if assistants count – they seemed to, back in season 3, since Elias was pushing them to regularly read statements because Jon was “too inconsistent” about it).

* Since after MAG139, because Jon tried to sneak a peek at Peter’s plans and it backfired. It could have the added tragic bits that… Jon had been wary of his Inner Door, told Basira that opening it would mean drowning; and he eventually purposefully tried very hard to Know about something, deliberately… because he was too worried for Martin.

* Since after MAG140 and Basira told him about the plan to Ny-Ålesund.

MAG142 gives more credentials to a change having happened around MAG139/MAG140 on account of the given timeline:

(MAG140) BASIRA: Summer solstice is the 21st of June. So we leave in a fortnight. ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] … Right. BASIRA: And should arrive about a week before.

(MAG142) WOMAN: Look, life went back to… normal, I… I was fine. Until… [CHOKING] about two weeks ago. MARTIN: And that was when you met J– … Er, one of our employees. WOMAN: … That’s when he showed up.

Which means the succession of events was likely:

MAG139: somewhere at the end of May => MAG140: one day after MAG139 (Jon referred to it as “yesterday”) => events described in MAG142 => Jon&Basira departing => MAG141 (June 11th) => MAG142 (June 12th).

If Jon had been going around taking statements for a long while, I think the woman’s story would have been dated from a few more weeks, or months prior, just to get that point across? Though it’s also possible that, like MAG141, the date is a red herring to keep us into a false sense of (relative) security still: Floyd’s story is mysterious enough that it might contain something that could be used against The Dark, so there is still the possibility that Jon extorted it for that reason… but MAG142 was without hesitation a Buried one, so not actual data, so it has nothing to do with actual information but just about feeding, and we’re slowly running out of rational explanations which could motivate Jon’s sudden harshness (“it’s because it was important information, and just one time, to someone mostly innocent but involved in fishy business with a reccurring character” => “there was no relevant information to the current case, and Jon had done this to people before, and he targeted absolutely innocent people”) so… could be that It All Began just before the trip, or could be that we will discover that it had been going on for longer than that.

- However long Jon has been doing that… I don’t think that the punchline was that he had been utterly lying on tape throughout all of season 4? Honestly, I… wouldn’t find this interesting – I’m too used to twists being that your (unreliable) narrator was actually Evil/Really Bad all along and, precisely, the series had taken a more interesting approach with this in season 1 (with the fact that Jon appeared as pompous and elitist and sceptic and dry… and, okay, was a bit of that, but also scared and trying to hide it), so it would feel a bit of a let-down if that was the case in the end? And we’ve had a few occurrences of Jon not immediately being aware that he was recorded (he hadn’t spotted the tape recorder at first in MAG122 and MAG123, the tape recorder was in Martin’s room in MAG129 when Jon entered), and he acted exactly the same as when he was in control of the recording. When he accidentally compelled Melanie in MAG136, he immediately apologised (which means he knew he had wronged her, which means he still had a spontaneous sense of morals, or at least, of understanding when he was crossing a line and doing something harmful and unwelcome).

One thing that might be true, however: if season 1 showed us one thing, it’s also… that through his recordings, Jon can present the world how he wishes it were. So, if he’s been… extorting and assaulting people for their stories all along, I really don’t think he lied and feigned the empathy for the victims, nor the fact that he was feeling doubts and concern, but more like, that he wished it were as simple as this…? Though it would also come across as a very… unsavoury way to Appeal For His Life – there is a big distinction about sighing about his inhumanity because he’s feeling aimless and unsure of what he’s supposed to do, and doing it while aware that he’d be causing harm here and there.

And the thing with MAG141 and MAG142 is that it’s supposed to feel like a shock; there was no progression(/degression) in Jon’s speeches during the season, no growing apathy towards victims. He kept expressing sadness and uneasiness! Before trying to take a look at Peter’s plan, he had launched into a rant about having “feelings” and “doubts”! It’s not even that he was feeling more and more isolated – since he got Daisy back, they’ve been bonding, Jon confessed to liking her (… and even went to such extremes as listening to The Archers with her). And suddenly, we’re faced with Jon doing… a complete face-heel turn: there is nothing comparable, nothing… progressive between the way he “extracted” Breekon’s statement in MAG128 (partially in defense, because Breekon was on the verge of attacking Basira) and received Jared’s in MAG131 (something that Jared forced on him: Jon had just been told that someone had commanded the attack over the Institute, and Jared went for that form and made it a deal against Jon’s rib), and going… after innocents, as consumption, as food, because statements are a “meal” and he doesn’t care much if that means wrecking people forever. The woman from MAG142 was the most innocent you could ever get: she didn’t know about the Magnus Institute, didn’t want to tell what had happened to her, didn’t even blame Jon for the after-effects and her reopened wounds (“Look. I know that’s not… [CHUCKLE] That is my brain. I’m not blaming him for, for being in my dreams. You know, I guess I can’t! [SNIFF] That’s absurd, right? It’s not… [PAUSE] But I feel like I’m seeing him when I’m awake, as well?” … although we know that it was directly his fault). She didn’t even express contempt or disrespect at Martin; she was calm, her story didn’t involve any shady business. She had her initial trauma and, as she said, she worked and fought by herself to get well (“But, uh, but–but I did my physio, and, you know, talked wi–with the counsellor they gave me? Look, I did everything I was supposed to, and–and yeah, I… I guess I was fine.”) before Jon came in and ruined her life – she can’t work anymore, her whole ability to function has been impacted, she’s in clear distress. What Jon did to her was… absolutely unwarranted and gratuitous. And… honestly, except for willingly launching The Watcher’s Crown, I have trouble picturing what he could possibly do that would be worse than this?

Season 4, at least on tape, hasn’t been Jon’s slow descent into monsterhood; it has been a constant string of Jon expressing doubts, sadness for victims, and trying to regain contact with the assistants. So what happened, for him to suddenly dive in and become so instinctive…? Or if it had always been there, out of record, what was going through Jon’s head…? (What was going though Jon’s head, when he was watching the woman as she was waiting for her date…? Because she was alone, at first, and yet, he didn’t immediately came for her…)

Basically: we’re missing pieces, and that’s the point, but uuuuuh…

- Anyway, meanwhile, I’m guessing that Elias got put into solitary confinement because the amount of [PLEASURED EXHALATION] he must have breathed out in these past two weeks made the guards AND the other inmates too uncomfortable.

- Aaaand the trend of people who had a Beholding-related encounter and are especially uneasy at the Institute keeps going:

(MAG053) GERTRUDE: One other thing. That feeling of being watched… have you ever had it since? WALTER: Well, I wasn’t sure whether to say anything, but… yes, I have, just now. That… funny turn I took on the way down the stairs, I felt it again. All those eyes, watching me.

(MAG060, Rosa Meyer) “Not that I could rest anyway. Those eyes still haunt my dreams, and follow me through the waking world. Even here. Especially… here.”

(MAG142) WOMAN: But I feel like I’m seeing him when I’m awake, as well? I’ve been… I’ve been having a lot of problems, since he talked to me, well, since I talked to him. […] Every time I do, every time I get that… panic just rising up my throat… I see him. He’s there. Not when I look properly. But just at the edge. The corner of my eye. And he’s gone. […] I, I… I can’t… this place… I… I can’t be here. I have to… [OPENING DOOR] MARTIN: Uh, no– WOMAN: Bye!

Which. Is still a possible explanation as to why there are so few Beholding statements outside of the letters addressed to Jonah: because people have to be exceptionally tough to not feel crushed and even more pressured inside of the Institute, if they’ve already been marked/offered to Beholding.

- I… hadn’t really given much thought about it, but actually, the distinction between feeding/being fed from, for the Archivist, might be through respectively live and written statements? Back in season 3, Elias had highlighted to Jon that they were taxing on him, and Jon had mentioned to Georgie that he was experiencing the fears himself, when reading them:

(MAG089) JUDE: It’s like you’re not even listening. You have your god, as I have mine. Feed it, fearlessly and without hesitation, or it will feed on you. ARCHIVIST: But I don’t… I don’t… I mean, I mean, what do I feed it? JUDE: I don’t know? You’re the one it picked. Not a great choice, if you ask me.

(MAG091) MIKE: That’s… that’s all, I think. Since then I’ve embraced my new life; gladly fed that which feeds me.

(MAG093) ARCHIVIST: You’ve seen monsters? GEORGIE: Not the time, Jon. ARCHIVIST: Right, it’s… it’s just I think I’m turning into one. GEORGIE: Really? That’s… not great. ARCHIVIST: Yeah. Ever since I took this job, I’ve felt a compulsion to read out some of the statements. The ones that really touched the supernatural. And when I do… I… I feel them. I feel their confusion and fear. I tried to write it off, but…

Though Jon doubled-over at the end of MAG094, after the Hellish Five Days covering MAG089 (Jude’s live), MAG091 (Mike’s live), MAG092 (Elias showdown), MAG093 (written statement), MAG094 (Georgie’s live). And a written statement was enough to perk him up in MAG107. But I wonder if, now that Jon has… “become something else”, the live-statements aren’t precisely feeding him, and more tempting, while the written ones make the Beholding feed from him…? The woman in MAG142 was insistent over the fact that Jon looked… replenished, after he was done with her, and Jon told Basira in MAG141 that Floyd’s was helping him to go “full power”, so it definitely looks like it’s the actual way to feed for an Archivist… while it used to be pretty neutral, effects-wise, before his coma?

(And even in season 4, Jon didn’t sound that much lively in MAG131, after taking Jared’s, so…? Was that because Jared is a spook, and it’s less nourishing? Or is it because a new dependency/feeding system has grown alongside Jon’s powers, developing through the ordeals – after the coffin in MAG132, and/or after he tried to take a look at The Lonely in MAG139?)

- Amongst things that have apparently changed, relatedly to Jon’s powers… the effects of taking live-statements did: Daisy and Basira only mentioned dreams, but the woman in MAG142 made it clear that it wasn’t just that. It sounds like, additionally to the dreams, Jon re-traumatised her (since she has been plagued with panic attacks every time she’s triggered, although she used to be able to handle it), which makes her relive the fear of The Buried… with additional Feeling Of Being Watched. So, feeding both The Buried and Beholding? (How come only The Lonely is financing the Institute and getting all chummy with them, then, if Beholding has the potential to give back to the other Fears the snacks that had managed to get away?)

So why did the live-statements Jon extorted have different effects than usual? Multiple parameters have changed since the ones from the first three seasons. Is it because he’s more The Archivist now, after having chosen, and this is what true full Archivists do to people? Is it because The Watcher’s Crown is coming closer and Beholding is reaching its peak power? I’m reminded of Smirke’s letter (MAG138), when The Eye was precisely haunting both his dreams and his daily world, and that’s how Smirke came to the conclusion that Jonah was on the verge of doing something regrettable. Other option: … Assuming there wasn’t any tape recorder indeed: is it because the statement hadn’t been recorded, back then, and the recorders alleviate the Beholding effect…? (=> I’m still amongst the people considering hard that the tape recorders are actually Web, so, it could be a matter of hijacking Beholding’s dominion a bit…?)

- ;; Whether The Watcher’s Crown attempt is planned for the end of season 4 or for later into season 5… you can feel, meta-wise, that Something Beholding is coming closer and closer. There had been very few statements about The Eye throughout the entire series so far (full-on Eye: MAG023, MAG53, MAG060, MAG120) and… we’re already at three new ones in season 4 – MAG127, MAG138, MAG142.

- One of the themes of the episode seems to be about the temptation of the Dread Powers: Lonely for Martin, Beholding for Jon, Hunt for Daisy.

(MAG142) MARTIN: Th–the worst part is I don’t even want to talk to him about it. I’m just… [SIGH] I suppose I’m just getting comfortable with the distance. [SIGH] Cut off. [DRY CHUCKLE] “Lonely”. [INHALE] Mind you, Peter’s not wrong. It really is easier than actually just trying to communicate with people. […] They told you about Elias, right? DAISY: Yeah…. Basira said. Don’t like him being alive. Trying not to think about it too much. Don’t want to get too angry. Start to… hear the… blood. […] MARTIN: I mean… I guess. It still sounds really dangerous. DAISY: Yeaaah. Wanted to go with them, protect them, but… [PAUSE] Life’s always more complicated than that, isn’t it? MARTIN: Not really.

Daisy got enough distance, in the coffin, to delimitate herself separately from The Hunt, which had shaped her life until now – it’s a looming threat, and keeping away from it means accepting sacrifices, in the form of not being there for the people she cares about (now, “Basira and Jon”: not Basira anymore):

(MAG132) DAISY: I’m sc–scared, but… Mm–mm… But I… I feel more, feel more m–me than I have for years. Maybe all my life… The, The Hunt was me, b–but I don’t, I don’t think I liked it. I think it just made me… need… it… I hurt… a l–lot of people… and some who… who I shouldn’t have. Did you ever hear the, the story Elias told me? About what I did. How I am… He, he didn’t get a detail wrong. The Hunt… Hunger was in me all my life. Telling me who to chase, how to hurt them. I never needed to think… who I was outside of that. But down here, where I… I can’t hear the… blood anymore, I d–, I don’t… I don’t know who I am without, without the chase… I just know… that I… I don’t like who I was back outside. I don’t want to be her again. I want… to be… better…

(MAG133) ARCHIVIST: [EXHALES] She is trying to keep a clear head. Stay away from The Hunt as much as possible. You valued her purpose. Her resolve. The sort of things–

(MAG140) ARCHIVIST: Is Daisy coming? BASIRA: … No. ARCHIVIST: … Oh. I, I–I just thought– BASIRA: We’ve talked about it. If The Hunt takes her again… we don’t know if she’s coming back. And neither of us want that. ARCHIVIST: … No, o–of–of course.

As it was presented with the last two episodes, Jon crashed and burned himself through Beholding; whatever he is right now, however he thinks, he’s deep in – and though he may (or may not) have been initially trying to use his powers for good, or with a goal in mind… it’s now about consuming, about feeding, about indulging, whether he had realised it or not. Meanwhile, Martin is seeing appeal in the Lonely – Peter’s magic/management is doing its work (and Gerry had warned us that the Lukases were good at grooming their own). Respectively reformed, currently into it, and tempted to give in, because the powers offer something they crave: being a fighter and having the power to protect or to strike at those who offended her for Daisy, getting information, knowledge and obtaining new pieces to complete the ongoing puzzles for Jon, being at peace of mind and not heartbroken anymore for Martin.

(- And Martin has been closing himself off without… realising to which extent, apparently:

(MAG142) DAISY: Yeah. Just a… a bit empty around here. You know? MARTIN: Not really. DAISY: Melanie’s out, and… [EXHALE] Jon and Basira’re still off. Bit worried. But they can take care of themselves, you know? MARTIN: Again, not really. [SHORT HUMOURLESS LAUGHTER] No one talks to me anymore. […] Anyway. So, what’s this field trip they’re on? DAISY: They, uh… they didn’t tell you? MARTIN: [DRY CHUCKLE] No, I… What. … [QUICKLY] Daisy, where have they gone? DAISY: You know that town in Norway? MARTIN: What? I… Wai– Wh–what?! You don’t mean Ny-Ålesund? DAISY: Yyyeah. They reckon there’s a ritual they need to, you know… MARTIN: Yeah, but Peter didn’t even men…! [OPENS DRAWERS, SHUFFLES THROUGH THINGS] I don’t believe this!

Basira had mentioned that she had stopped trying to reach for him, after his mother’s death; but Martin had accepted to cut off from Jon entirely, and has shown multiple times that he’s been relying on Peter for information. Maybe Basira stopped trying, but it’s mostly… that Martin made himself so inaccessible. And there is something very fitting (though sad) with that? Because indeed, Martin kept trying to make connections with people and being rejected or betrayed – his attentions never meeting their goal. He took care of his mother for years; he was quite mistreated by Jon even when trying to make things a bit better, or less bittersweet (prime example being the beginning of MAG069, when he brought tea for Jon, and was turned away). And as he spat to Elias’s face in MAG118, he was very aware that the “good” moments he had spent with Not!Sasha had been cruel lies, that he felt bad for spending with Sasha’s murderer? And his relationship with Tim had deteriorated through season 2 already, reaching the point in season 3 when… Tim didn’t factor him in at all, focused on his revenge and didn’t spare any thought for Martin because he didn’t know him like he knew Sasha? And Martin never really managed to form any connection with Melanie nor Basira, and Daisy used to frighten him. So, the temptation of the Lonely makes a lot of sense… and maybe Daisy will manage to pierce through it? She’s been a constant surprise in season 4 – actually bonding with Jon, and now managing to… have a meaningful talk with Martin? The fact that they shut down the tape recorder while still together might mean that they’ll keep talking and that it… could do Martin some good? That they could act on something together?)

- The clock in the background made it sound like the scene was taking place in Elias’s office again? (I think the sound the door made was the same, too?) So, “Assistant to Peter Lukas”, really? Nah. Martin has been slowly taking over all of Elias’s tasks: taking care of the Institute’s administration

and

receiving

the complaints about Jon.

(I’m not even joking: the first time ever that we heard Elias talk… was when he relayed to Jon that Naomi had filed a complaint about him, in MAG017. And now, it’s MARTIN taking care of even that. I don’t want Martin to become the new Head Director because that can mean anything good, but UUUUUh at the same time. All these tiny ways in which he is literally replacing Elias are hilarious but, accumulated, are beginning to get suspicious.)

Plus, I do love

(MAG142) WOMAN: I don’t, a– Look, I just need to, to talk to a… a–a manager, or something? MARTIN: Okay, uh, well, uh… Uh, yeah, actually, [CHUCKLE] I’m a, I’m a manager. G–go on?

How more and more confident he’s getting at Bullshitting… but AT THE SAME TIME. Martin is managing Peter and used to manage Jon. He does deserve to be called “a manager”, okay.

- MARTIN IS STILL A BEHOLDING BABY!! After the (glorious) mess that was MAG100, Martin had been the only one of the assistants to take a live-statement: Tim’s, in MAG104, though, okay, Tim was also an assistant himself and it was… probably a Beholding effect that allowed him to be so articulate? But Martin technically took another one with MAG142, and the woman’s story was clearly messier and less “fluid”, she had a lot of trouble explaining things, and the point that it wasn’t the first time that she was telling her story (“And I start to tell him… everything. About the job, about the collapse, ab–about the hand… And more than I told you, even, and–and…”)… but still. Beholding might not be giving up on him, uh?

Also, it’s Aza’s pet-theory that Martin might be compelling/manipulating people to do what he wants by asking “Please” (even though there is no static), and MMMM… both Tim and the woman uncoiled and began to talk after he said that word…

(MAG104) MARTIN: Please. TIM: [EXHALEs] Fine. Fine. I’ll tell him in person, when he gets back from… wherever it is that he’s vanished to. MARTIN: China. And if you try to tell him in person, you’ll just end up at each other’s throats. You know you will. TIM: … [BITTERLY] Statement of Timothy Stoker, on the disappearance of... of my brother, Danny, four years ago. June 14th, 2017.

(MAG142) MARTIN: Just… just tell me what happened. Hum, please. I–I won’t judge. [SILENCE] WOMAN: Alright. Uh. So, you… [SIGH] You’ve, uh… you’ve got to understand my job, okay?

(+ Melanie relenting when he went “Melanie. Melanie, please.” in MAG118, etc.)

- Anyway, I’m so so glad that Martin’s pettiness has been skyrocketing in season 4.

(MAG082) DAISY: Well, if your witnesses appear back in this universe, maybe the situation will change. Otherwise, it’s an easy choice: answer my question or I pin it on you. MARTIN: Y–you can’t! Th–that’s not how this works. [SILENCE] … Is it? DAISY: Let me tell you how this works, Mr. Blackwood. I’ve got a hell of a workload, no partner and full operational discretion to make this whole situation go away. That means you help me or I make things very unpleasant for you.

(MAG142) DAISY: I said… I don’t want to talk about it. [SILENCE] MARTIN: I know. [PAUSE] Not nice being interrogated, is it? DAISY: I… [EXHALE] Oh. MARTIN: Yeah. [SILENCE] DAISY: [INHALE] I’m sorry, Martin.

February 2017 vs. June 2018, it was sixteen months ago, and he didn’t let that go. FORGIVE AND FORGET? NO AHAHAHAH RESENT AND REMEMBER.

- AND I’M SO GLAD THAT DAISY APOLOGISED… that she understood on her own why Martin was so petty and cutting at her – that she had given him reasons to!

(And uuuh… that parallel between Daisy-towards-Basira and Martin-towards-Jon… I didn’t know how much I wanted Daisy and Martin to have an Actual Conversation until now, but… they work… so fine… hopeless pining gays aware that their crushes are fucking idiots throwing themselves into things without plans, all of them…)

- Uh! So Martin listened to MAG061’s tape!

(MAG142) MARTIN: I listened to your old statement. Wasn’t your partner down there? DAISY: Yeah. Didn’t find him. MARTIN: You don’t wanna go get him? DAISY: I’m not going back. MARTIN: Hm! I thought you would have at least tried, or–

(As an aside, we know Jon had taken the tape along with him when he went into the coffin to rescue Daisy…)

So why and when did Martin listen to that specific statement and remember about that detail…? (He’s usually… notoriously pretty bad at cross-checking information or remembering names from one statement to another, see how he didn’t remember about “Rayner” back in season 3.)

- Speaking of tapes, there were a few things:

(MAG142) MARTIN: I should probably try to get him this tape, let him know what happened, that someone came in to… But then, ahah, would that just come across as an accusation? Like, because I don’t wanna… And then, then I guess he’d… hear this bit as well, so… I… I… [LONG EXHALE] What do I do…? […] DAISY: … [INHALE] You recording, or…? MARTIN: Hm? Uh, oh… Oh, no, there was– Hang on… [CLICK.]

The fact that the woman’s complaint and story was recorded was a conscious decision from Martin, or at least, he was aware of the recording (=> it didn’t… sneakily begin to record without him noticing). But it’s strange that the woman didn’t mention any tape recorder with Jon when he preyed on her – maybe it was there, hidden, but maybe there wasn’t any…? If that’s the case, why…? (…………… if it was recorded, that means there might be a hidden stash of… encounters like this, of Jon pressuring people into giving their statements…)

- We got quite the roundabout of Martin’s ambivalent bits this episode: he was good towards the woman (treating her with the respect she deserved), expressed offense and disgust at Jon’s actions………………… and then right away, went back to being Considerate Of Jon’s Feelings and to worrying over him the instant he was given the incentive:

(MAG142) MARTIN: Uh, but you didn’t give me your– [DOOR CLOSES] … name. [SIGH] [RUFFLING PAPER] [SILENCE] [SIGH] … What the hell do I do with that?! I mean, Christ, Jon, that’s… that’s not okay! Oh, that can’t– that can’t… I mean, it’s not him, is it? Not, not really? It’s, what, addiction, instinct, maybe mind control, something like that? I… can’t believe he’d choose to do something like that. … No, no, I, I can’t think like that, though, I, I can’t let myself, ‘cause I mean, if, if he‘s already gone, then all of this is just… […] MARTIN: No, no, it’s… thank you, I just… [CLOSES DRAWER] For God’s sake, can he not stay safe for like, for like ten minutes?! DAISY: I don’t think that’s an option for him anymore. MARTIN: Yeah, I mean, sure… [SLAMS A DRAWER SHUT] But he just…! He doesn’t think! He always just immediately charges straight off into danger with whatever… whatever half-arsed plan o–occurs to him at the time! I don’t get it!

… It’s probably not a good thing that he’s… so prompt to getting worried over Jon instead of reconsidering things through his actions (it’s like he had… immediately forgotten the woman’s story as soon as Daisy explained that Jon was going into Danger territory) but… it makes sense with Martin’s point of view – because he had agreed to some sacrifice for the others’ and Jon’s well-being, and, indeed, if he were to accept that Jon is gone… then, it means that it was partially for naught – unless Martin manages to find New Reasons. (But it kind of confirms that Martin really doesn’t have many things he cares for/about left in the world…)

- Whatever is happening with Jon, it’s either not one of the options that Martin considered, either a mix of all of them (“addiction, instinct, maybe mind control”)? We know that Jon has had ~problems with moderation~ and Jon had discovered and acknowledged that he was getting addicted to written-statements, back in season 3, without… giving it much thought:

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

And the way Jon was described kind of remind me of Trevor’s relationship with The Hunt? (MAG056, “In the early 80s, I was deep in the grip of my twin addictions. As I mentioned, after a while, the hunt became an addiction of its own. Of the two, I’ve always found heroin the easier one to quit. […] But the hunt… the hunt is a purpose. It’s not just a way to get through the day, it’s a reason for there to be a day at all.”)

There has been so much talk about “choices” this season that… the bottom line will probably be that yes, Jon did choose it and will be aware of it. Either it was something he was trying to get under control, for a Greater Plan (trying to Power Up to fight The Dark?), either it was mainly hunger when he began to do these things but… despite Martin’s repulsion at the idea, I don’t think the answer will be anything less than “yes, maybe he was influenced, but Jon did choose it”…?

- You can feel that Daisy is a bit older/more experienced than the others and… it’s interesting that, in the end, she’s knowledgeable about human behaviours and able to decipher them?

(MAG142) DAISY: I, I mean, it’s pretty standard stuff. MARTIN: What?! DAISY: Used to see it all the time back in the force, especially with the Section’d. Not like there’s… “normal” trauma, you know? But it’s pretty common. The most important thing becomes control, engaging on your own terms. Even when it’s stupid or dangerous. Anything to not feel helpless.

(She was Section’d for fourteen years, she had been working in the police for sixteen years in December 2016, so she’s at the very least 35-ish years old, while Jon&Martin are around 30.)

AND I LOVED HOW SHE REMINDED MARTIN THAT SHE USED TO BE A DETECTIVE…

(MAG142) MARTIN: … Yeah. [LONG INHALE] I suppose. [LONG EXHALE] You’re… you’re pretty observant, you know? DAISY: Detective, remember? MARTIN: Yeah, you did mention. Would have thought Basira would’ve had more sense, though. DAISY: When Basira and I were partners, I’d see this happen sometimes. She can read a… situation like no one I know, always seems to know the right move, but for all her research, she never wants to put a plan together. I think she just hates all the unknowns, the… variables. [SIGH] Contingencies. If she spots an advantage, she’ll… grab it, and trust herself to figure out the details as she goes.

Elias has been nagging Basira, calling her “detective” (and Georgie called her one in MAG122, and Peter referred to her as such in MAG134) but… it was Daisy, officially – Basira was only a Police Constable. Daisy had it in her to lean towards Beholding, uh…? And it’s nice to see that Daisy didn’t have that title for nothing? And it’s interesting to see the contrast between her and Basira – with Daisy, initially being presented as savage and violent (a “rabid dog” according to Elias), actually attuned to the way people work, and Basira, quieter and “soft” (according to Daisy in MAG061), seemingly level-headed… being actually the impulsive and chaotic one.

- But WOOPS.

(MAG140) ARCHIVIST: So what’s the plan? BASIRA: I’m getting us passage on a boat heading up there. ARCHIVIST: … Right. BASIRA: I bring all the guns from Daisy’s old stash, you bring the spook you used to mess up that delivery guy. [SILENCE] ARCHIVIST: Wh… at? That’s it? [PAUSE] Christ, I thought my plans were half-arsed. BASIRA: It’s all about when we go. ARCHIVIST: … I don’t follow. BASIRA: Summer solstice is the 21st of June. So we leave in a fortnight. ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] … Right. BASIRA: And should arrive about a week before. No danger of sunset or darkness for a long time. Stands to reason that they will be at their weakest.

(MAG141) ARCHIVIST: You were the one who suggested we go by boat. BASIRA: Didn’t think I… urgh… [SNIFF] … I hadn’t really done proper boats, before…

Confirmation that Basira barely has any plan for Ny-Ålesund and is mostly planning to improvise.

- Here’s hope that Martin talking with Daisy will help a bit to get him out of his shell… Hilariously, Elias had warned Martin about getting too secluded?!

(MAG138) MARTIN: I think he wants me to join The Lonely. ELIAS: Then it sounds like you have a decision to make. […] Don’t forget to keep in touch, Martin. There are so many people in here, but without one’s friends… [DOOR LOCKING] it does get rather lonely.

And Daisy came in and was the surprise!friend. At the very least, Martin got another demonstration that Peter is not trustworthy when it comes to the information he shares (or doesn’t share). Martin, despite his official wariness, has been relying on him a great deal, but maybe the news that Jon hoped out to stop another ritual, and that Peter didn’t even deem it worth it to notify Martin or to provide help, will allow distrust to sink in again…? (Oooh, I hope we will hear Martin confronting Peter about it, because Martin will probably be deliciously snappy and cutting…)

- … So Melanie had been “quiet” and now she’s away again (“Melanie’s out, and… [EXHALE] Jon and Basira’re still off.”), and we haven’t heard from her since her first session with that therapist, and I’m Worried About Melanie. And on that subject, I liked how Daisy casually supports Melanie’s past intention to kill Elias:

(MAG142) MARTIN: I thought you believed him…! You were doing all of his dirty work. DAISY: Well, wasn’t willing to call his bluff. Not the same thing as “believing”. Just too big a risk. MARTIN: … Not for Melanie. DAISY: Well, maybe she was the only one with any sense. Even if he was telling the truth [EXHALE], if we all… died… There are worse things.

… because we definitely know that she didn’t have much sense given that it was confirmed that she had been infected by the bullet.

(But hey, Daisy, give yourself some credit:

(MAG092) ELIAS: Ah, of course. Er, sometimes I forget how new you all are to this. Basira is now tied to the Institute. All of you are. Like fingers on a hand. And I am the beating heart of it. Should I, or the Institute, be destroyed, you will all, unfortunately, follow suit. MELANIE: Wait, what? TIM: Yup, that sounds about right. ELIAS: And it would not be a pleasant death. DAISY: Bullshit! ELIAS: Then shoot me. Just squeeze the trigger, and watch the only person you care about die screaming. Your last connection to humanity. Do it. BASIRA: Daisy…

You did call it “bullshit”, back then!)

- It’s quite impressive how much Elias has managed to be omnipresent even in absentia in season 4, but especially in this episode. The scene seems to take place in his office; we got reminders of how he had trapped Daisy to work for him; he’s still an element threatening Daisy to tip over; and he’s in prison… but still a bit here, somehow.

(Urk, he had mentioned that Jon was “at a very delicate stage right now” in MAG127, hence him making sure that Jon couldn’t get in contact with him… but I wonder if, upon his return from the Pole, Jon will get visitation rights because… stuff happened.)

- And what Jon is thinking/doing/meaning is… a gigantic mystery right now. It was a weird episode in that regard, because the first half of the episode was presenting him as a Monster, as absolutely… a danger? A threat? A “It” violating people and feeding from them? Because even if he wasn’t aware of the apparently new Beholding effects, Jon was absolutely conscious and reminded of the dreams plaguing statement-givers:

(MAG130) GERTRUDE: Shame about the dreams; I would avoid them if I could.

(MAG132) DAISY: I realised you were in my dreams. Reliving t… this. The coffin. You were there. ARCHIVIST: … Yes. DAISY: Didn’t think it was real. Not really… Just my mind putting you there, because I h–hated you but… no. One night, you turn up in a new shirt. Didn’t fit you. Not your style. I didn’t think much of it, it was just a d–, a dream. Then you come back from the States and… guess what you’re wearing. ARCHIVIST: Oh… DAISY: Realised what was happening then. Realised you weren’t human. Needed to die, as soon as it was safe. Never mind Elias and his… insurance.

(MAG136) ARCHIVIST: It, uh… Hm. Is, uh… Weird question, but… I… [EXHALE] I haven’t seen you in my dreams? The last couple of weeks? […] So… no more dreams. DAISY: Not of you and your weird eyes. Just the coffin. ARCHIVIST: Is that better…? DAISY: ’T’s mine. ARCHIVIST: … right.

(MAG141) BASIRA: And now he’s going to see you in his dreams as he relives that for the rest of his life! ARCHIVIST: [INHALE SHARPLY] BASIRA: Because… because a tape recorder told you to do it?! ARCHIVIST: Yes, Basira, he is. And I am sorry about that. But we needed it. Anyway: you’re the one who wants to be like Gertrude. [SILENCE] You think she’d give a damn about a few bad dreams? BASIRA: … No. ARCHIVIST: No. She got the job done, and didn’t care about the costs. BASIRA: But I thought you did.

… and still Did What He Did, and has forced himself on people, and is enjoying it, and… messed up the woman (and potentially Floyd – his stories were about travelling by sea, can he still work as a sailor if he starts getting panic attacks?! – and potentially… others).

But then, the second half of the episode rolled in and insisted on his human sides and qualities and the fact that he was a victim, too. It made sense for Daisy (since she got in touch with the Jon who doubted and was “moping around”), it made sense for Martin (because, as much as he’s able to snap and take none of Jon’s shit, he’s also showed a propensity to making excuses for him, hence Tim’s bitterness in season 2), but it was still… a weird mix. Because you were shown someone suffering and in distress, and right afterwards told that her tormentor was in a bad place and deserved to be loved and for people to worry for his well-being and state of mind…? It’s indeed good to get confirmation that what Jon has experienced left its marks on him, since we had glimpses of it before:

(MAG133) ARCHIVIST: And give Daisy a break. She was there eight months. [EXHALES] I was only in there for three days, and I–

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

… but it happened at a weird time, after the woman’s story. At least, with how Daisy went back to Jon’s words, pointing out that he was “self-destructive”:

(MAG136) ARCHIVIST: My– [PAUSE] [INHALE] [SIGH] My memories of the coma are not clear. But I know I made a choice; I made a choice to become… something else. Because I was afraid to die. But ever since then, I… I don’t know if I made the right decision; I–I’m stronger now, tougher, I can… … If I do die, now, or get sealed away somewhere forever… I don’t know if that’s a bad thing. And I don’t want to lose anyone else so, if I can maybe stop that happening, and [DRY CHUCKLE] the only danger is to me, I– I’ll do it in a heartbeat; worst case scenario… the universe loses another monster. DAISY: That’s messed up. ARCHIVIST: [LOW SELF-DEPRECATIVE DRY LAUGHTER] … Yeah. I suppose it is. DAISY: Did you know the coffin wouldn’t kill you? ARCHIVIST: I– guess I thought imprisonment wouldn’t… wouldn’t be as bad as it was. DAISY: [SHAKY SIGH] ARCHIVIST: And it’s a lot easier to make that choice than it is to actually… endure the result. You might have noticed when I was in there with you, I… I had regrets. DAISY: Yeah. I remember. ARCHIVIST: Plus, I thought… [PAUSE] W– [SIGH] Well, I didn’t know what being down there had done to you. DAISY: You thought I was gonna kill you? ARCHIVIST: It was a possibility.

(MAG142) DAISY: And of course, for Jon, there’s survivor’s guilt in there, too. He thinks he’s not human. Makes him very… self-destructive.

… I think we might definitely be heading towards the idea that at some point, in a shape or form, Jon did (and likely does) intend to sacrifice himself to stop The Dark…?

(- Alright, though.

This bit is more a disclaimer for Behind The Scenes/Less Comfy Time than full-on review: I initially had a very hard time with this episode. By that, I mean it physically messed me up for a day or two, before I was able to pinpoint why, and managing to get what the issue was alleviated the feeling a bit: it’s because, beyond the harassment case (which was indeed treated as it deserved in the episode, as “enough” to feel messed-up and warrant a complaint), I felt/read/received the woman’s story and encounter as openly coded as se*ual assault, and I was unprepared to this – creepy man hovers around a woman who was having a romantic meeting, corners her when she is alone, forces her to do something she was unwilling to do, “thanks her” for what he extorted from her and is satisfied by the experience, and leaves her a crying wreck, traumatised and with her whole life messed up, down to the detail of the woman not putting the blame on him, partially presenting it as her responsibility (“I’ve been having a lot of problems, since he talked to me, well, since I talked to him. Ever since I told my… story. […] May–maybe, maybe it’s just me, maybe I’m… Maybe I just, I met him once, in a coffeeshop, and he was a creep, and it messed me up…! But that’s enough. Right? [SHAKY EXHALE] That is enough.”) since she didn’t have the codes to explain what had truly been done to her. On its own, I felt that this wasn’t escapist horror anymore but way closer to “real-life horror” than what TMA usually does; it was even strengthened by E. Lockley’s performance, which was absolutely amazing… and also very intense, shaking and rough; and there was the added fact that… the abuser, in this case, was someone (the protagonist) who had been presented as sympathetic until now. Separately, it would have been a lot already; together, it was unbearable for me upon listening, and even after… it also makes me a bit uneasy, story-wise; as in, “oh, after 140-ish episodes, is this series really for me, after all.”

Because the second half of the episode made it pretty clear that Jon will be held accountable for what happened, but also… that he is a victim himself. And he’s still (unless this is The Shift) our main character, that we were meant to sympathise with until at least MAG140, and who was still written as sympathetic in the second half of the episode. Meanwhile, this character… exposed how her life was wrecked, is condemned to suffer, was harmed by someone who knew to some extent what he was doing, and she probably won’t be seen ever again. She didn’t do anything; Jon did. And it’s Jon’s story, and I’m sure that there will be Lots Of Guilt if Jon is meant to stick around as our protagonist, but the fact remains: the person who was (one of) his victim(s) still had her life wrecked, knowingly, and is probably not “important” enough to receive focus and to achieve protagonist status, unlike… her abuser. And I feel like I read enough stories focusing on the person who chose to harm rather than the person who was hurt and will be perpetually hurt? And I’m not too fond either of serious stories going the “edgy” route of protagonists behaving as uncaring asshats for a long while…? I had always assumed that when Jon would Fall, it would be either gradually, or the point when he would lose his Protagonist/sympathetic status? But right now, it feels like it’s most likely heading towards Reforming and coincidental Manpain territory (which… TMA had been great at avoiding until now), and aesthetically, I’m not super ready to open myself to feel sympathy for a character who caused harm while aware of the effects, even if he feels like crap about it afterwards, and even if I was until now very engrossed in his story and loving him a lot as a character. It works fine in derivative works, I love the various explorations, but in a canon… it’s always something else, it makes me feel uneasy, I am always pursued by the reminder of “but why does this character’s ongoing story deserve to be told, and not their victim’s?”. With MAG141/142, I feel like suddenly, Jon got utterly destroyed as a protagonist? Who cares, honestly, if he’s self-destructive or has survivor guilt? How do you justify the fact that he should still be (even partially) a (sym)pathetic character, or someone to feel for, if he goes around dooming people in such ways, even if it’s a spooky temptation/an addiction problem…? I would need the canon to tell me why and I feel… that it’s going to be hard. Because even if Jon feels bad about it, even if he was planning to get fucked over and it was only a temporary thing, he’ll still not be the main victim, and there is (presumably) no fixing for what he did, no way to alleviate what he did to the people whose statements he extorted, and unlike them, he’ll still be… our character. We’ll hear his voice, not his victims’ (after this woman’s testimony), and I don’t think that’s compatible with his protagonist status anymore.

And I know that RQ is usually very sensitive when it comes to real-life issues; the woman was treated with the soft carefulness that she deserves, and I understand perfectly that the way Martin was written this episode was meant to avoid typical accusations in such cases: he absolutely believed her and didn’t even consider that she could have been lying; he took her seriously and didn’t argue with her over the necessity of filing a complaint; he was supportive and soft; he validated her after she told her story (“O–okay. Hum. [INHALE] Right, well… [EXHALE] Firstly, I’m re– I’m really sorry that this happened.”); he expressed outrage towards Jon’s actions for this (… at first). But I have a hard time “trusting” and can’t help but be wary of what will follow in the story, and I am ill-at-ease: because crediting the woman as “Bystander” was… a surprising choice (she was a victim, she was preyed upon, it was her story, she was not… a witness or someone on the side…), because she wasn’t named (so… deprived of her identity…), and because it is likely the last of what we’ll hear from her… even though we know, with the rules of this universe, that she won’t escape this situation. And we’ll keep following Jon, and be narratively meant to get heartbroken over him, if MAG142 is any indication. I’m open to surprises (we heard Melanie’s and Daisy’s voices in ways that I hadn’t been expecting, although it was necessary and welcome; Daisy did harm people and keeps reasserting that it was her responsibility, and I currently adore her (… though the fact that we never met an innocent she would have wrecked… helps); or it’s possible that it’s the point, that Jon is currently being buried as a protagonist and that we’re supposed to lose our attachment to him) but… as I said, I’m wary, and not at ease at the moment. So I’ll see with next episodes, but it’s possible that I might take a hiatus soon-ish to let a few episodes pass and to judge from afar if I’ll feel better listening to them in one go, with the overall direction getting clearer. My first reflex last Wednesday was “I can’t listen to this anymore” and it messed me up until I was able to pinpoint what had been the thing bleeding into me and making me feel so sick, and fiction isn’t… supposed to do that to you – suddenly, it made the world unsafe, and it wasn’t horror escapism anymore for the reasons mentioned above, and I really wasn’t expecting to get slammed this hard even when expecting Terrible (fictional) Things. So, I’ll… see; you do you, I do me, I’m fine now, I can branch out if I feel that It’s Not For Me After All. Despite these grand intentions, I’d probably end up swallowing any Jon Angst/Tragedy Juice anyway, manpain-flavoured or not, so, eh.)

(Here’s for narrative hope: Daisy saw the woman and reminded Martin that she was a “detective”, so… some pieces are laid for Daisy to track down and find her? The fact that this woman wasn’t given a name feels a bit suspicious – not because she would be a false identity or an illusion, but in the way that… she was denied one. And given her situation, given that she was a victim, it’s quite harsh and un-TMA-like? So we’re probably meant to see her again, with a proper name…?)

Title for MAG143 is out: no cookie point to guess which Fear is involved, but mMMMMmm, guessing we’re going into Things (and that we might get a clue about what Robert Montauk was doing when Julia was a kid…?).

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