#upon finding this out house immediately started referring to her as ‘he’. a man. etc.

[dihalect]

my current episode of house features a teenage supermodel. and generally i don’t put much stock in punitive “justice”, but with the way house is acting, i think one billion million gajillion years in the hellpit would be fair

[hwrryscherry]

 The one where the reader meets Harry as Jack

characters: HARRYxREADER!FEM

blurb: Harry is filming Don't Worry Darling in Palms Springs while Y/N is moving in in her new house in the neighbourhood where the movie is being filmed. Turns out the fate wanted to cross Harry and Y/N's way as a box full of books is very intriguing to Harry and Pride and Prejudice becomes Harry's new favorite.

word count: 2.7K

author's note: Heyy guys, it has been SO LONG and honestly I don’t think this is best work yet lol but anyway, I had the worst writer’s block of my life so it was so hard for me to write a single word. Honestly, I felt kinda pressured to write. I felt like I was pressuring myself for that so I had to take advantage of this block and take this idea out of my mind. I want to say something important too; I really want to say that the only story of mine that I’ll keep the face claim is HARRYxMODELY/N, just because I like to use the photos to make instagram posts sometimes. I will no longer describe types of hair as I used to say ‘’long strands of hair’’, it will be neutral for you to imagine yourself in the story. It’s all about you guys and how you can visualize the story and the character, if you want to imagine a face claim that’s cool but if you don’t want to it’s cool too. Feel free to read and visualize, it’s all about you. Thank you for the support on my account and my writing. I’m aware that I’m not the best lol, but I also think that I have so much to learn from you just as I have to teach. I’m so grateful for everyone who reads and like my stuff. Never forget that you’re unique, you’re loved, you’re so golden and treat people with kindness always.

   "Why is it so hot in here? It's fucking December!", you'd think to yourself as you drove your new car through the streets of Palm Springs. The thing is that after you moved from Columbia to reside so many years in New York while you were studying English Language and Literature in Yale, you just got so used with the usual colder weather from NY and it's just a different vibe from California. You had such a hard time to decide what you wanted to do after graduating, though. And after a few weeks and some long conversations with your family, you decided you would go to California. Palm Springs, to be more specific. You decided that because you remembered all the times you went there when you were a kid because your grandmother lived in there before she passed. You remember spending your summer vacation with her and how cool it was. It was in the early 2000′s and there was many kids on your age that lived on her street. You remember playing with them all day and then getting back into your grandma’s house and feeling that cinnamon scent that for some one only her house had. It wasn’t a usual cinnamon scent. It had something special in it. It made you feel so warm and welcomed. You remember helping her to bake the most delicious cookies, brownies and cakes in her kitchen. You remember the kitchen had a yellow counter, but the entire kitchen was white. All very pale and then the cheerful yellow in the kitchen that colored everything. You remember going to play bingo with her and how it made her happy to having you around. You both were so close and you had such a hard time when she passed, but the most important was she taught you so many things during your time together, and you’d never forget those things and her.

    As you drove, you’d remember those streets vaguely. You’d pass through the soccer court you typically used to go with the other kids and spent hours playing in there. You were vibing with the song in the stereo as you started getting closer to your new house’s street. It was Carolina by Harry Styles; you have to admit you’re not the biggest Harry Styles fan in the world, but you were definitely a One Direction fan when you were around 16, but you couldn't be considered a directioner either. You just listened to a few songs and thought it was good. But anyway, this specific song is one that you particularly like. It may have something to do with the fact that you’re from Carolina, of course. But it’s more about the vibe and the melody that by being animated it could actually cheer anyone up and the lyrics were undeniably good though, a little sexual, but good. It’s more about the vibe and the melody that by being animated it could actually cheer anyone up and the lyrics were really good though, a little sexual, but good.

    When you turned the right way into the street of your new home, you came across much more than you expected to see on your moving day. There were, as it seemed, paparazzi. Apparently they were shooting a movie right in your street, and it had also many people with many cameras and trailers that probably were dressing rooms. Naturally, you knew that thousands of films were shot in California, that’s obvious. But you didn't expect one to be shooting exactly on your moving day and specifically in your street, let alone that the street would be this crowded since the world is experiencing a global pandemic, ironic. You observed some of the people walking down the street, or should you call it a set? You don't know, but there were many people and many cars, at least they were all wearing masks. It had many classic cars, probably in the 40s or 50s style. They were colorful; vivid colors, though. Colors like yellow, blue and lilac was really present. To resume, the whole street looked like a movie from the 50s and for sure that was the intention because you could notice some extras walking around the set dressed up as 50s people used to.

    As you carefully drive through the street, you’d notice that from what seemed like a divine miracle, there was a vacant parking spot right in front of your house and you can’t help but smile when you see it. The first time you came here to see the house. You were with your family, and that was about four months ago. You just loved the house completely as it had such a different vibe from the place you used to live in New York, and honestly, just the thought of the house made your creativity activate as it had some really cool colored walls and you bought some colored mobile as well. Anyway, you stopped the car right in front of your house finishing the engine and grabbing your mask and putting it in your face as you'd use your hand to get rid of the seat belt and your other hand to open the car door and get out of the car.

    After closing the driver's seat door, you go around the car walking to the trunk where you use the car key to open it. When you open it, you are faced with two cardboard boxes. One was full of books. Books of all kinds, books of period novels, books of suspense, books of investigation and etc. Books that piqued your curiosity and made you want to finish reading it as quickly as possible. The other box was already full of clothes, those last clothes that you would finally be taking home. Your mother has done the biggest job in the moving issue; she was the one who was bringing the furniture and your things while you finished packing the rest of your things to leave New York. You try your hardest not to pay attention to the set of recordings and the people who walked back and forth, at the same time that you tried hard not to make any noise, because if you accidentally disturbed a scene, you would feel extremely embarrassed and would probably not even show up at the gate until the end of filming, but that was not the case. You removed the two boxes from the trunk just before closing it completely. You chose, perhaps, to enter the clothes box first. You bent down taking the box in your arms and walked to the door of the house where you used the key you received from the real-estate agent to unlock it before entering. You immediately noticed that some sunbeams reflected on the living room floor due to the white linen curtain that covered the glass windows. You observed the contrast of the sofa in such a light tone with the lilac wall just behind it. You walked with the box in hand by the door extension to the room where you placed the box on the small coffee table in front of the sofa. Returning out of the house, you can see the figure of a tall man dressed in a brown suit crouched in front of the box of your books. He had brown hair and properly cut. It didn't look like he was messing with your books, but he was definitely looking at them and it seemed like he was trying to read the covers of it for some reason. You slowly got closer to the man's body without making too much noise while you analyzed him, you crossed your arms upon your chest as you noticed the book cover he was looking at: Love is a mixtape by Rob Sheffield.

— This one is amazing! — You said, surprising the man that stand up fastly with the book in his hands connecting his green gaze with yours. He was tall, really tall by the way. His suit seemed perfect, just as his hair. He had a black mask on as a protection but the 16 year old teenager inside of you could never mistake those eyes. It was Harry fricking Styles. You considerated being quiet as you, yourself were pretty surprised now, but then you took your gaze to the book in his hand and then back at his face — It's like comparing love to a popular song that we usually search to define love. Just to find out that love is like oxygen, or love is a kind of drug, or a battlefield for some... — You said referring to the book with a tender smile on your face that Harry couldn't essentially see, but talking about a book that you loved caused this on you. And as you talked you didn't notice that Harry had a smile on his face as well. Maybe it was because you completely ignored the fact that he is Harry Styles and he was messing up your books as he's on the set filming a movie, or maybe it was the fact that he loved this book just as much as you did. He'd use to say this is probably one of the books that if he had to read just one book to the rest of his life, he'd chose this one and he usually had so much to talk about this book and so much to put on an argument about it but now he was completely speechless. He was just tongue tied. He was tongue tied about your reflection of one of his favorite books and how it looked so identical to his own personal reflection. He was tongue tied for the number of great books that he always wanted to read that was on that box. He was tongue tied at the owner of those books and her beauty, her intelligence of her voice and her voice as well so he just chuckled. A nervous chuckle as he leaned his head to look at the floor for a second before looking at you and holding out the book in his hands to you that calmly took it from his hands.

— I know! It's one of my favorite books! — Harry'd ultimately manage to say it as he observed you admiring the cover and running your fingers through it as a truly book lover would do — It's very interesting the interpretation you have of it.

— Don't you agree? — You'd interrupt him rising your head to examine at his face. He seemed paralyzed by some way, little did you know that Harry was mesmerized. He enjoyed the informal way you were speaking with him, and it genuinely felt like you already knew it each for years.

— That's the intriguing part. We have the same interpretation! — He'd say serenely, and then running his hand through his hair as he frown a little because of the sun that just hit on his glowing eyes.

— Well...Maybe you're just trying to imitate me to impress me! — You'd joke, with a mocking expression on your face making Harry giggle at your words and your face. It was the sense of humor to him.

— Oh really? And what makes you think I'm trying to impress you? — Harry'd say back with the same mocking tone that you formerly used. He'd observe your face go from playful to thoughtful in just as you to come up with a response.

— I mean...you were the one looking through my stuff, mister! — You say raising your eyebrows as you utilized one of your hands to take some strands of hair out of your face.

— Right... — Harry said with a defeated voice before as he compressed his lips together and moved his suit away from his shirt a little as he places his hands on his waist — I'm sorry about it, though. There was this box hanging here and I guess I was just intrigued! — He said shyly making you start walking towards the box walking closely to him causing him to feel a hot warm from your body as you passed. You'd bend over to grab the box but was stopped by Harry taking the heavy box from your hands — Let me help you with this! — Harry said as he held the box on his arms.

— There's no need for that. It'll ruin your splendid suit! — You'd say gently to him as he was standing up in front of you carefully holding the loaded box. Legitimately, he looked hot. He properly looked like a 50s husband helping with the moving with this outfit — And if you piss off your costume designer because of me I'll die! — You'd complement receiving a loud laugh from Harry's lips that shook his head while looking at you.

— She’ll be fine! — Harry'd argue back, then get a sigh from you before nodding at him as a statement.

— My house is right there! — You'd say using your right hand to point at your house, watching Harry turn his back to you and start walking towards it. You followed him through the door that was already open. Harry looked at the house immediately. It had a good vibe, and he wouldn't deny it. The choice of colors was exceptional, but he also noticed it was not very tidy, which would probably indicate that you were moving today.

— Where do I leave it? — Harry asked, referring to the box as he went farther into the living room.

— You can just leave it on the floor — You serenely said crossing your arms together and watching as he left the box on the floor and turned around to face you, but then deflecting his gaze to the ceiling before staring at your face again.

— It's a beautiful house! — Harry said as he moved his gaze through the room. He observed everything. He likes to observe. He likes to notice things that maybe other people didn't — Just like the owner, if I might say — Harry said cheekily and charming hearing your giggle invade his ears as you started walking towards the box of books that he previously set on the floor.

— The owner says thank you — You said bending down and starting to take the books out of the box and place it on the coffee table beside you as Harry watched your movements. You shyly looked at him thinking for a second and them smiling under your mask — For both compliments! — You said getting your attention back to the books. It's not that you don't want to give him your attention. It's that you genuinely think that he's just being nice, and he's probably not even interested in anything that you say.

— So... I have to go back to the film now but maybe you can give me your number so we can talk about your interpretation of my favorite book — Harry said shyly. His words took you by surprise actually but you couldn't hold back the smirk you had under your mask as you stand up again turning to face his green eyes. You noticed that he had his phone on his hand, hoping and waiting that you'd give him your number even though both of you knew that the book excuse was nothing more than an excuse as he was truly interested in knowing you.

— Well, it depends... — you said slowly as you took a deep breath before actually saying anything — If you agree to read my favorite books too, I'll give you my number!

— I'd be honored! — Harry chuckled after letting a sigh out feeling relief that you asked for something so simple that he'd love to do if that would make you happy — What's your name? — Harry said as he unblocked his phone screen and started to save your phone number.

— Save it as Elizabeth Bennet in there! — You said fastly with a proud smile on your face as Harry giggled and did as you ask and then looked at your face as he put his phone back on his pocket.

— Only if you save my name as Mr. Darcy when I call you! — Harry said knowing that after this, Pride and Prejudice would definitely become one of his favorite books ever.

[smolbeandrabbles]

Common Threads - An Orson Krennic AU (Rogue One: A Star Wars Story)

@wltz-bby​ @happyskywhale​

This will be a short series set across a number of parts.

Author’s Note: All credit, and I mean ALL credit, to Harry & Rob @ Stop Making Sense Podcast. They’re real ones!  REAL ones. Thank you both for letting me write such a genius idea!

Basically this all started here on Instagram. And if you want to see where it’s going you’ll want 54:33-61:20 of this! Also please support these guys, they’re so great and so funny! Highly recommended!  While we’ll have no central romance, we know how Krennic is so... there’ll be fleeting mentions of goings on.

Also it wouldn’t be my writing if I didn’t almost lose half of it due to microsoft word complications, would it?

Disclaimer: Star Wars & Rogue One characters places etc all not mine / There’s some call backs to Catalyst but they’re rather small / The idea certainly isn’t mine either in this case / lyrics not mine / I did bring my OCs into this.

Premise: When Krennic is attacked by a band of rebel insurgents and they get away with vital information, the Empire devise a rather unusual punishment...

Words: 3547

Warnings: Slight sexual references / Please don’t look at the timelines too closely / AU

_____ I know what I want And I'ma go and get it, I'm a number one, I know you won't forget it Keep my eyes on the prize, no surprise that I'm lit I be cruisin', you be snoozin' That's why you losin', I'm oozin' Confidence is boomin', boomin'

I ain't worried 'bout nada 'Less it Gucci, 'less it Prada 'Less it Dolce and Gabbana 'Less a trip to the Bahamas I wanna feel like I'm way up Stay lit every single day I wake up I ain't worried 'bout shit, you a parody Ain't no wonder why they all so scared of me I'm a rarity, I got clarity

---

Part 1: Stitched Up. 

The communications device rumbled across the table again, begging to be picked up. This time it annoyed her; she’d managed to ignore it up to now but if it interrupted the meeting one more time she was in danger of being thrown out. She pulled it from the table, glaring. The person on the other end of the line, who clearly needed her desperately, could have only been one of two people – and due to the frequency, she could easily narrow it down to one. Krennic. And if it was her boss, she’d find that highly ironic, considering he’d been the one to tell her how imperative it was she took note of every little thing said here. ‘I don’t want a single detail missed Lieutenant; do you understand me!?’   It continued to buzz on and off feebly in her lap as she listened to the group of commanders drone on and on… but at least it wasn’t disturbing anyone but her anymore. Upon exiting the meeting it rang again, probably for the billionth time, and she answered: “Director.” He seemed a little taken aback that she knew it was definitely him, “What took you so long to pick up!?” “I was in a briefing you told me to go to! And yes, before you ask, I made all your notes. I’ll send you a copy of them right away.” “Well forget about that, I have something far more urgent for you to attend to!” “Sir?” She stilled in the corridor, ready to run in whichever direction he commanded. Krennic’s voice lowered to a hiss, “This is very embarrassing Lieutenant, and I would prefer you kept it discreet. Can you get yourself to my place?” “Yes, Sir.” She waited for a further instruction, yet upon receiving none but “Good, and make it quick, Suraya.” and the click of a terminated communication, she supposed that the only thing to do was board a shuttle to his apartment and pray that his version of urgent was not ‘I need a suit for a ball tonight, and your help to pick one!’ …again. ***

Nothing appeared out of the ordinary when she stepped off the ship, smoothing out her uniform as she did so. Krennic was waiting for her by the door and ushered her in quickly – what could this have been about? Suraya’s question was answered before he’d even closed the door, “Oh… my…” Her eyes traced slowly from floor to wall to ceiling, but there wasn’t a part of his apartment that wasn’t ransacked. “…word.” She finished, not able to think of something better to say. Krennic stepped forward into the room, arms crossed and staring hard at everything before turning to her. “Rebels!” “…Rebels?” Suraya immediately questioned, “In your house? ON Coruscant?” That didn’t make any sense, “They wouldn’t dare!” “Well they did!” He indicated around, then waved her forward, implying she should join him. “How?” “That’s what you’re here for.” “I’m hardly a detective, Director… where were you?” His blue eyes lowered to the floor and he chewed his lip, face a little flushed – she could bet from embarrassment and anger. Therefore his answer was a little mumbled, “Not conscious.” Suraya couldn’t help stifle a laugh which turned his steely gaze on her, “The rebels knocked you out?” She scanned the room again, “Well did they break in, there’s no broken glass or forced entry?” “...No.” Krennic was hesitant, and the lieutenant knew she’d missed something, turning in a complete circle on the balls of her feet, she stopped as she eyed the bed. Bed sheets rumpled and his clothes strewn nonchalantly around, there was no evidence that he’d been with anyone, but Suraya knew better. “Where’s the woman?” “What woman!?” Although there was hesitation in Krennic’s voice again. She quirked an eyebrow as she looked back at him; there wasn’t a planet in the Galaxy that didn’t know about his reputation. Her look was enough to get him to confess. “She was here when I was blindsided, when I came to, nothing!” She doubted this account by the fact that, although Krennic looked fairly unscathed, there was a mark above his eye. He’d likely let them in and would never admit it. He grumbled again, “What kind of woman would just answer the door to the rebellion!?” Or maybe that was it, but Suraya doubted Krennic would have just let anyone else answer his door for him without express permission or command. “Did it occur to you she was a rebel?” The Director nearly laughed at the ridiculousness of the situation, then composed himself. “Nah. I would have known. Anyway, why would she?!” Suraya let her eyes linger on him a little longer than she perhaps ought to; “I dunno, if I got the opportunity to say I’d slept with you, I would. Your reputation does precede you, Director Krennic. Why not take the opportunity to see if the rumours are true?” Krennic flushed but automatically dismissed it, “No. There’s no way. Self-respecting rebels would never-! And I---” She kept her mouth shut for now, and pushed a scoff and a taunt back down where they belonged. “---No. No.” As he began walking across the floor, musing to himself, Suraya traced his footsteps. “Well, what did they take?” “Hm?” “If they’ve overturned everything here, then they were looking for something Director, what have they found? What was here?” “Most of my research is back with Galen at the Eadu facility. I suppose there are a few data packs… but that’s general Weapons Division stuff. And-” Krennic turned quickly, trying to figure out where he’d last seen his personal data pad. He wasn’t about to outwardly look flustered about this though, he’d been in little mishaps before and he’d always come out of them on the right side of things. This was just another one of those, Krennic told himself he had nothing to worry about. Something else was pressing on the lieutenant’s mind as she watched him move around, and Suraya wasn’t thinking as she interrupted him to voice it. “Where’s your cape?” Suraya wasn’t sure he wore it all the time. Did he wear it when he relaxed? There weren’t so many times she’d seen Krennic in civvies or ever had a reason to come over here, unless it was for an early morning pre-meeting briefing; by which time he was usually up and dressed. But he was certainly in his uniform right now – so, where was the most iconic piece of it? Then Krennic really did go red and in his attempt to stutter through a sentence, couldn’t, and had to sit down, running his hands over his face. Then it all clicked; this was what was so urgent. It wasn’t that the rebels had come here, upturned his place, perhaps stolen documents – Krennic was annoyed about that but he wasn’t bothered by it. The information he was about to impart to her was his top concern. “It’s gone.” He managed, muffled slightly behind his hands. Okay, but he had more, right? Krennic wasn’t the type of man to keep one copy of a uniform around, especially when he was so picky about tailoring. Those poor imperial tailors were yelled at if there was even so much as a stitch wrong. She was pretty sure that he’d even stood over their shoulders to watch them remake it after he’d sent it back. “There’s more than just one, isn’t there?” If there wasn’t, he at least had a rainwear version he could substitute until they made him another. Krennic just shook his head, but still wasn’t looking up. Suraya crossed to his wardrobe, pulling it open and immediately seeing the problem. She stepped back with a gasp. By ‘it’s gone’ Krennic didn’t just mean the cape, he meant his entire closet was empty. No uniforms, no finely tailored suits (that he spent who knows how many credits on just so he was on trend), nothing. There was a single note stuck to the inside of the door, which upon reading Suraya found was indeed from the rebellion – but also fairly unrepeatable. She untacked it and walked back to him. “…Well, that’s a story you’ll have to tell Uniform.” “They’ll make my life hell.” He protested, suddenly regretting all the times he’d had them redo his clothing over one stitch, finally taking his head out of his hands and looking up at her, “I can’t leave my house like this!” “At least you have a uniform, Sir.” Was the best she could do, and by the looks of it Krennic also had whatever he’d been wearing last night, so not all was lost. Still, Suraya knew why she’d been called here, “I’ll put an expedited request in for you.” He nodded, and opened his mouth to verbally agree, when there was another sharp knock at his door that demanded both of their attention. “Director Krennic! Open this door at once!” Her heart dropped and Krennic groaned, “This is just what I need!” He stood, turning back to his assistant, “I TOLD you not to say anything.” “I didn’t! It’s not like I knew this had anything to do with the rebels before I got here-!” Suraya would have hit him with her data pad if she thought it would get her anywhere. Krennic swivelled from the door to her and then back to the door, “Then how the hell does Tarkin know!?” Forced to play defensive she held her hands up, and said her next sentence almost hopefully, “We don’t know he does, maybe that’s not what he’s here for!” ***  Krennic took the deepest of deep breaths as he cracked the door open, leaving Suraya to stand to attention on one side of the room, data pad behind her back keeping it dead straight, a trick she’d learned was pretty useful as a cadet. “Governor Tarkin, how may I assist you?” “Let us in, Director, my day is very busy and I don’t have time for this, particularly.” Tarkin was curt as ever, it didn’t help Orson’s mood. “Time for what?” Clearly Krennic’s feign of ignorance wasn’t making him friends. “Oh, out of the way, Krennic! We spotted some Rebel insurgents leaving atmosphere and on breaking down the contrails of their craft and fuel particles in the atmosphere, it appears they came from your apartment. Now I don’t wish to accuse you of treason, but if you want to confess it might make things easier.” The lieutenant found herself suddenly wishing Krennic hadn’t dragged her into this first, so she could be saved from watching these two argue again. The Director scowled as he was forced to open his door wider on the chaos of his apartment.  “Oh dear!” Although as Tarkin waltzed in it was clearly only said as a formality, and the sharp smile on his face let Suraya know he was about to lord this over her boss. He was followed in by no less than five other imperials, all young looking protégés, eager to survey the scene for themselves. She would suppose even if they found forensic evidence, Krennic wasn’t about to be told of it, and it also didn’t look like they were about to be too careful with his remaining things. Once Tarkin had acknowledged her presence at the scene and turned back to Krennic, still scowling, Suraya made her way quickly across the room to kick Krennic’s discarded clothing under the bed. Maybe the kids wouldn’t put two and two together, but Tarkin certainly would. Rebels were scandals themselves without a potential sleeping-with-the-enemy situation. “It seems to be a bit of a mess you find yourself in, Director.” “It’s hardly of my own doing.” Krennic straightened, defensive, “There were far more of them than I, I fought back but was unfortunately blindsided.” “I see no evidence of force entry.” Suraya shook her head subtly as Krennic’s eyes flicked momentarily to her; if he wanted to go that way, he probably should have opened a window or the balcony doors or… something. “Well, no, as it turns out I let them in.” She couldn’t see Tarkin’s face, but his movement and the freeze of the others in the room said everything. Krennic’s eyes momentarily flickered in panic but he controlled it, “I expected to see my assistant returning to de-brief me on the meeting I sent her to this morning.” Suraya did everything in her power not to look pissed that he’d just thrown her to the wolves instead, with Tarkin immediately turning, but it was not her he addressed, “I believe I know the briefing the lieutenant attended, which you also therefore would have known did not finish until after the incident took place. Why would you expect her so early?” Krennic shrugged coolly, “Sometimes they end early.” This wasn’t untrue, of course, but it was a big bluff. It didn’t explain why Krennic wouldn’t have checked who was knocking. Also if Tarkin had the inclination to check the call log, it would show that the Director also began his tirade of calls after the rebels had left. Krennic, having become suddenly useless, was dismissed, for Tarkin to turn back to her. “Lieutenant. When you arrived did you notice anything out of the ordinary?” Suraya could see Krennic gesturing out of the corner of her eye but ignored him. “Besides the whole place being over turned, nothing Sir.” Although she tilted her head, before pausing, immediately thinking better of it. “Lieutenant?” It didn’t get passed Tarkin. “I just don’t understand why they would take the Director’s wardrobe, Sir.” The word ‘take’ obviously alerted Tarkin to something else, and his eyes darted around the room again, Krennic walked forward, clearly bumping Tarkin’s arm on purpose as he strolled to the closet to present evidence. You watched the Governor’s little smile widen in amusement, before he became serious again, “Well, well, Director. You better check they’ve not stolen anything important. Especially with the project you’re working on.” “Anything of significance is with Galen.” Krennic disliked how quick he was to address that point, he didn’t want Tarkin to know how irked he was. “Still, it would be best to check. I believe that your personal data pad will have been here along with some files. Something as significant as those would not have escaped the rebels notice.” Krennic’s teeth gritted, as he indicated back to the closet; “My WARDROBE is gone!!” Suraya was right, that was the most important thing to him. Tarkin’s eyes flicked to hers, and they shared the same exchange of exasperation, unable to quite comprehend why clothing was at the forefront of Krennic’s mind. “As I was saying…” She almost chuckled as Tarkin made it clear on what he perceived as important and it was not Krennic’s lack of uniform, “There’ll be consequences if anything is missing, Director! This is already a dire security breach.” Ironically Krennic thought that was a little dramatic, but simply grumbled to himself as Tarkin took his forensics team back and exited the apartment. The Director was just glad to get them out of his hair. “Security breach.” He muttered, “You’d think I handed them the whole damn Project Stardust!” Suraya sighed gently as she made her way back over to him, “For now, Sir, I believe we should figure out exactly what data has been taken. And report it up the chain as soon as possible, less Tarkin find a reason to return. Then we can get your uniform re-ordered.” He turned those blue eyes back on her, at least a little brighter at that idea than they had looked when she arrived, “Yes. Let’s… let’s do that.” *** It took a couple of days to overturn the damage that the rebels had done and take stock of what was actually missing. Krennic had retrieved his personal data pad, and they hadn’t managed to gain access to the most important discs in his desk. Nor his own weapon, thankfully. That didn’t mean data packs and other things of value weren’t looted. Krennic had to go through the ordeal of cancelling a lot of his access pips and cards – but they arrived fairly quickly from the Intelligence Bureau, reset. Suraya remained with him to assist the clean-up operation and order his uniform; this took a little longer to arrive and by the end of the second day Krennic was starting to get antsy. “What takes them so long!?” “Well you do have very exacting standards, Sir!” “Exactly! So they should know how to do it by now. Did I not specify clearly enough!?” She wasn’t about to answer that question. If his previous interactions with them were anything to go by the urgent note she’d placed on it was being wholly ignored and the Director would be constantly bumped to the back of the queue. She couldn’t say she’d blame them, either. On the morning of the third day, as they both anxiously awaited the results of their carefully worded email detailing exactly what documentation the rebels had stolen, Krennic received another knock at the door. “If this is Tarkin-” Suraya wasn’t about to tell him to keep a level head, but she did give him a look to tell him not to blow up. He opened the door to a woman dressed in civilian clothing, even though it appeared that she possessed rank pins. She had bright pink hair and light eyes and as she moved her hair flew as if she was starring in some kind of commercial. “Director Krennic? My name is Kora, I’m here about your uniform.” “About time it turned up!” He took a pace back in order for her to walk in, “Are you from Uniform? Next time you ought to tell them that when I say urgent, I mean same day-” Kora wasn’t done talking, and she turned back to him, saying rather bluntly, “Request denied. For letting the rebellion enter and steal documentation of the upmost importance to the Empire, YOU are going to star in a documentary about Empire approved businesses.” There was silence in the room for a moment and Krennic wore a half smile as he tried to work out if she was serious. Kora simply stared him down, and as the Director’s face fell, Suraya once again wished she wasn’t in the room. “No.” Suraya couldn’t tell if that was Krennic refusing or his own disbelief. Kora knew which way she was taking it. “Well it better be a yes before I go back, Director, or you’ll be in hot lava.” Krennic’s eyes widened and no one was under any illusions as to what he was thinking; “Not Mustafar again-!” There had to be a way out, he wasn’t about to waste his time on this! “This documentary will be of the upmost importance Director. Lord Vader and the Governor only hope that you will take it seriously.” Suraya couldn’t help giggling behind her hand at this. It wasn’t the being in front of a camera, it wasn’t the thought of doing a documentary on business – or fashion - it was that Krennic was being forced into this by a man he hated. Krennic cleared his throat, once more folding his arms as he looked back to Kora, giving her a single nod. “Very well, but there is nothing in my wardrobe that isn’t tailored to within an inch of its life and most of it is from high end shops, some of which are on Lexrul.” Krennic was a very big advocate of his home planet after all, so he’d expect at least one part of this documentary to take place there, “So you better have budget!” Instead of agreeing Kora simply smiled, in the same way that Tarkin had a habit of, “Oh no, Director, we’re highlighting small businesses that scrape by for a living, right here on Coruscant, to show our support and cater to all audiences.” Suraya thought that his face fell even faster than it had with Tarkin around, and she also didn’t think that livid covered it. “WHAT!?” “That’s the deal Director.” “It’s not much of a DEAL!” “It’s the one I’m giving you, I can take it elsewhere… and I’m sure that Lord Vader and Governor Tarkin would love to hear why you couldn’t do it.” The Director looked desperately to Suraya, but she wasn’t sure what she could say. How could, at her position, she possibly rescue him from what Tarkin wanted?

Realising indeed that his assistant wouldn’t be much aid to him, Krennic’s eyes fell back to Kora and he swallowed hard, smile feigning confidence - but also a little nervous. “Well then, I suppose I will accept your offer.” This time Kora’s returned smile was warm and sweet, “That’s great news, Director Krennic.” She took a step forward and extended her hand to him, “Well, as series producer and director, I’m very much looking forward to working with you. Welcome to the team.” Suraya bit her lip as she watched him step down to shake Kora’s hand, hoping he wasn’t crossing his fingers behind his back: this could be huge for Krennic if he used this opportunity wisely. Things were about to get interesting around here...

---

Thank you for reading! 😘😘

I really am SO excited to bring you the rest of this

[soveryanon]

Reviewing time for MAG183!

- I’m not sure I can manage to put it into words quite right but: sounds-wise, this episode’s domain didn’t feel mind-blowingly new, it wasn’t something that felt “Oh! I’ve never heard something like this before!”? But the echoes, grinding and scratching were timed so well, giving so much strength and gravitas to the conversations, that it perfectly scratched an itch. I could hear that there was something close to Jon and Martin, that it was big, and mostly deserted, that it stood eerily in the overall wasteland, that they were two people alone against a whole world, a whole machine with gears and a mechanism ready to crush anyone?

- I LIVE for artist!Martin giving his commentary and overall throwing shade at the Fears’ taking of artistic licence liberties:

(MAG183) MARTIN: Oh, bugger off! ARCHIVIST: Everything all right? MARTIN: Oh, no, what e–, what e–, what even is that? It, it’s like Escher ate a bad cathedral and threw up everywhere.

He had shown interest in the Stranger’s carousel upon learning that the statements had been a poem, but shots fired for that tower, uh.

- Jon and Martin were so cute starting the episode! Their quick banter was adorable!

(MAG183) ARCHIVIST: It’s a building. A tower. … In a sense. MARTIN: Oh yeah? A–and what sense might that be? ARCHIVIST: [FAINTLY OMINOUS] … The Tarot sense. MARTIN: [SPLUTTERS WITH LAUGHTER] Really? ARCHIVIST: Wha–? No? Sorry, it… felt like a good line…! MARTIN: No, no, it was, I just… I dunno, I… [FOND EXHALE] You did the look, and…! It’s fine, sorry.

Martin being IN LOVE and appreciating Jon’s cuteness! The return of Jon showing that he’s an occult/horror nerd! We had seen in season 2 that he was generally very knowledgeable about anything related to the supernatural, and in season 4 that he was into Neil Lagorio’s movies, I’m happy to get another trace of it!

(MAG076) MELANIE: So I came here to dig a bit deeper. ARCHIVIST: Really? Our… our library is extensive, but it’s hardly focused on the Second World War. MELANIE: No, but the most detailed description of the crash that I could find came from the report of a man called William W. Hay. And later in life William Hay… ARCHIVIST: Became a noted occultist, whose memoirs and researches were only ever published in a heavily edited form. And we have unexpurgated copies. MELANIE: Exactly.

(MAG136) ARCHIVIST: [INHALE] Statement ends. 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 [PAPER RUSTLING] ended up in… Artefact Storage. DAISY: Probably best that they stay there. ARCHIVIST: … Yeah. Yes, of course.

But SOB x2 since:

* Tower-in-the-tarot-sense meaning ominous stuff… and change. (While Jon knew they would soon come face to face with the choice to take the route through Martin’s domain.)

* Crying over the fact that we’ve seen and learned quite a few outside-of-the-job aspects of Jon this season, comparatively to the previous ones? He’s cute! He’s making jokes! He mentioned his student days a bit in MAG165, and visiting Upton House as a kid in MAG180! And this is happening when the world has been forked over and Jon&Martin certainly won’t survive together past MAG200, which means they have at most seventeen episodes together remaining. Martin, and we alongside him, are seeing so many different, more casual aspects of Jon, and it’s at the end of things…

- I really like how information bounced around in this episode? It felt even more dynamic than usual, quickly shifting depending on some reaction, or going from an association to another:

(MAG183) MARTIN: What, what’s the deal, though? Parts of it almost look like– ARCHIVIST: The Institute. MARTIN: Yeah…! ARCHIVIST: Yes. [INHALE] It makes sense, after all it was… built on the ruins of what Robert Smirke constructed…! MARTIN: Smirke? … What, no! But, but, surely he’s– ARCHIVIST: Dead, yeah, I mean, yes. [CHUCKLING] Very much so! This place is… an homage, shall we say. A monument. To him, and those like him, who tried to… categorise the world with themselves at the centre. In so doing, constructed the architecture of its suffering…!

Ohohoh about Martin feeling like the tower looked a bit like the Institute, and Jon drawing similarities through Smirke – the Institute being built on the ruins of a Smirke building, and the current domain being dedicated to people like him. The Institute is coming closer and weighing on their minds, isn’t it? I really like that Martin immediately worried about Smirke potentially being alive-ish, since:

(MAG138) MARTIN: “The Eye has marked me for something, of this I have no doubt. My… humble hope is that it may be a swift death, an accidental effect of your own researches, which I once again implore you to abandon. It is likely too late for me, but I will not…” [PAPER RUSTLE] Uh… [INHALE] The, hum… The letter ends there. Uh… Ap–apparently Robert Smirke was found collapsed in his study that evening, dead of, uh… [FLIPPING THROUGH PAPERS] Apoplexy. Mm. I–I don’t know how the letter reached the Archives, I mean… Well, I can guess, but…

… he had read Smirke’s last words before he died. (But Martin has seen enough by now to know that there is always a risk for people to not have actually died; on that front, we’re safe, Jon confirmed! Loving Jon’s chuckle: ah yeah, no, Smirke, “very much so” dead from Jonah.)

(Also loved the “[those] who tried to categorise the world with themselves at the centre” shade: yep! That’s West-Eurocentrism and Smirke’s little gang for you!)

- About the way the world works now since the Change, I’m curious about Jon’s wording as “the architecture of [the world’s] suffering”, since it’s echoing the title of Smirke’s statement, “The Architecture of Fear”: my understanding is that right now, the world is mostly running on a loop of people’s fears => feeding and shaping the landscape => which hurts people by turning those realised fears against them => squeezing the fear out of them => feeding the landscape, etc.

What is quite curious is the status of Smirke’s taxonomy in the current world. Jon went off on a rant about how Smirke and people who attempted to classify had been wrong all along because it was meant to fail… while he himself has persistently been using the very same classifications during this very season:

(MAG166) ARCHIVIST: Look, we can talk about it later, we’re– coming to a… “domain of The Buried”, and [STATIC RISES] I would really rather… […] God, I hate The Buried. [DEEP BREATHS] … End recording.

(MAG172) 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.

(MAG173) MARTIN: That’s the avatar for this place? ARCHIVIST: Callum Brodie, thirteen years old. He guides the children through their fears of The Dark.

(MAG174) ARCHIVIST: I’m not entirely sure what you were expecting, it’s The Vast. The clue is in the name! MARTIN: Yes, all right…!

(MAG176) MARTIN: … Besides, I thought The Hunt was meant to make you go faster. ARCHIVIST: Depends on the type of pursuit. [INHALE] Besides, the chase isn’t… really the point of this particular place.

(MAG177) ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] Bad therapists. Let’s just say it’s the fear of bad therapists, filtered through The Spiral. BASIRA: That’s… a lot more nuance than I’ve gotten used to since everything went wrong. ARCHIVIST: Yes, well. The Spiral is nothing if not insidious. […] You just heard what The Spiral does to people, you can’t… trust her.

“constructed the architecture of [the world’s] suffering” kind of implies that they did manage something, even if it doomed the world? Is it specifically about Jonah using the division into 14 in his incantation? We’ve seen that that one had limitations, since The Extinction also got there anyway… But at the same time, true that at this point, we would still force-apply Smirke’s labels to anything anyway.

- Loved Jon sounding awfully pedantic and (fake-)poetic at the same time:

(MAG183) MARTIN: [SIGH] Bit of a mouthful. ARCHIVIST: Would you prefer I described it as a… “cascading recursion of shifting arrogance and hubristic dead-ends”? [STATIC RISES] [THE DOOR CREAKS OPEN] [CONSTANT HIGH-PITCHED FREQUENCY] HELEN: I would. [FOOTSTEPS] [THE DOOR SHUTS] [STATIC FADES] MARTIN: [SIGH] Hello, Helen.

AND HELEN HAVING THE BEST ENTRANCES. It also cleared up something for me (unless I had already realised it and forgot about it since then): the high-pitched sound we hear when she’s around is the mark of Helen and Michael, not of the corridors – if the door is open or characters are inside of the hallways, we’ll hear some of the usual crackling static, but we heard it rise when Helen arrived and fade when the door shut behind her (and same thing with her departure, it was briefly heard when she opened the door).

- Shots fired, MARTIN PLEASE:

(MAG183) MARTIN: [SIGH] Hello, Helen. Might have guessed you’d be into weird architecture. Very much your area of expertise, no? HELEN: Hmm, depends! Would you describe “petulant poet” as your area of expertise? I am weird architecture.

And Helen went equally incisive on that one, but also UUUUUH WAS IT A SPECIFIC REFERENCE TO PETER’S COMMENT ABOUT MARTIN…

(MAG158) MARTIN: I’m… saying no. I refuse! Game over. [KNIFE CLATTERING ON THE GROUND] PETER: Martin, this is not the time for petulance; there are bigger things at stake, here.

This was the only time someone referred to Martin as (acting) petulant… I mean, Helen not missing one second of MAG158 wouldn’t be surprising (she did tell Jon at the end of MAG157 that she would be enjoying the show), but ;; Little chilling when remembering Elias-Peter-Martin in the Panopticon and Martin refusing to kill Jonah there…

- I was right to suspect that Helen might have been unable to know where Jon&Martin were over their stay at Upton House, and that she wouldn’t be pleased about it!

(MAG183) HELEN: Anyway, where have you been? I’ve been looking for you, but you both just vanished. ARCHIVIST: Aaah… Right, I see…! HELEN: I was so looking forward to catching up after that whole Basira and Daisy thing, but then, pfft! You both disappear. I’d be very keen to know how you managed that little trick. MARTIN: Why, it caught us by surprise too, I mean, we, we actually ended– ARCHIVIST: [FIRMLY] We found somewhere to rest. That’s all. MARTIN: … Oh, yeah. Ah, yes, hm. HELEN: Fine. Be like that. I can appreciate the particular pleasure of a kept secret. ARCHIVIST: I’m sure you can.

* Salesa’s zone seems to be protected as long as you don’t physically find it? I wonder how Annabelle managed to find it, still, since Jon only become aware of that blind spot when they arrived nearby; how did she become aware of it in the first place? Did it feel like a hole in the world’s web?

* Awww for Jon keeping the secret and conveying to Martin that they should keep quiet about it ;w;

* AHAHAHHAHA for Jon’s “aaah”, which was absolutely a mischievous grandpa sound. Jon ready to cause trouble, with a smug smile on his face.

- … I love how Helen could observe that the dynamic of the exchange was slipping out of her control (Jon&Martin knew something that she didn’t, didn’t feel threatened by her, and Jon was amused to keep it out of her reach) and immediately tried to go for the throat again:

(MAG183) HELEN: Anyway. Such a shame about Basira and Daisy. I was really rooting for them to make up. MARTIN: [SPLUTTERS] Since when? What happened to– I mean, how did you put it… a, “a quick shot to the back of her head, and then back in time for tea”, or whatever?

Martin: Forgive and forget? NO, RESENT AND REMEMBER AHAHAHAHAH.

Direct reference to the fact that Helen indeed ~offered her door to Basira~ to quickly get to Daisy and execute her:

(MAG177) HELEN: I can offer a shortcut. Take you right to that murder machine you call a partner. MARTIN: Basira… Jon can’t go through Helen’s doors, we, we couldn’t come with you. HELEN: Basira is a strong, independent woman. She doesn’t need you two holding her hand. Anyway, it’ll be dead quick. Two minutes, door-to-door, quick shot to the back of Daisy’s head, and we’ll be home before you know it!

Laughing that Martin added the tea mention (Martin, you single-track minded tea-aficionado), but I’m glad that he remembered it full well to throw it in her face; it wasn’t even a personal attack towards Martin, it was something Helen tried to do to Basira, I’m glad that Martin is still absolutely offended about it ;w;

- I felt like Jon and Helen had two definitions of “what we want”: Helen potentially talking about quick, short-term wants (even if they turn out to be self-destructive), while Jon was more about well-thought decisions and choices?

(MAG183) HELEN: [EXASPERATED SIGH] Oh, give over. I was obviously just prodding her, trying to make a point. She didn’t want to kill her. ARCHIVIST: What we want doesn’t matter much these days. HELEN: Oh, [RASPBERRY NOISE], nonsense. What we want is the only thing that matters these days. And Basira wanted to join Daisy. ARCHIVIST: She made her choice. HELEN: With your assistance. ARCHIVIST: It was still her choice. HELEN: [SIGH] What a waste. ARCHIVIST: No. [INHALE] It wasn’t.

There have been a lot of discussions about “choices” and “wants” throughout the series (with big moments in MAG092, MAG117 and MAG147), so it felt a bit nice that Jon seems to have reached a point where he could draw a line between both? Jon, Martin and Basira didn’t want this world, don’t want the way it operates and what it inflicts on them; it doesn’t mean they can’t weigh options and make specific decisions – Basira, to honour her promise to Daisy and kill the monster she had become; Jon, to not smite for revenge (and Martin, to face his own domain).

I LOVE HOW JON WAS FIRM ABOUT BASIRA’S CHOICE MATTERING ;w; It once again reminds me of Martin’s line to Simon: “I think our experience of the universe has value. Even if it disappears forever.” (MAG151); the little things, the individual existences and choices, their own stories, still having value in the expanse of the universe…

- Martin! It’s a delight to see him so firm, having faith in Basira although he’s been so worried for her:

(MAG179) ARCHIVIST: Martin, this is what she needs. MARTIN: No, no! I–it’s…! BASIRA: It’ll… MARTIN: It’s completely– […] … We’re not doing this. BASIRA: [SOFTLY] Martin. Please. [SILENCE] MARTIN: … [SIGH] You’d better look after yourself. BASIRA: I will.

(MAG180) ARCHIVIST: How are you doing? About… MARTIN: Yeah, yeah. Yeah. I’m… I don’t know. I’m–I’m not sure how to feel; just… pressing on, you know? ARCHIVIST: I do. [SILENCE] MARTIN: Do you think she’ll be okay without us? ARCHIVIST: Oh, she’s made it this far. MARTIN: … Yeah. I just worry.

(MAG183) MARTIN: Basira is… She’s going to be okay.

And then pointing out that he was involved in the discussion too and that he wanted to know what the other two knew already and not be kept out of the loop:

(MAG183) HELEN: Oh. Is she? Do you want me to tell you what she’s been up to while you were “resting”? Where she is right now? ARCHIVIST: You don’t need to. I already know. MARTIN: I don’t. [STATIC RISES] ARCHIVIST: She’s currently moving through, uh… “The Void.” [STATIC FADES] Hungry shadows drifting in the dark. She’s been there a long time now, struggling to find the path. MARTIN: But she will? ARCHIVIST: I think so. HELEN: Yeah, she does always seem to manage, doesn’t she? It’s impressive. Although a little bit… tempting at times.

I’m not absoooolutely sure about Basira’s status: is “the void” a space between domains, or is it a Dark domain that Basira is having trouble finding the exit of, since unlike Jon, she can’t just “know” the paths? I suspect the latter but I’m not 100% certain. If it’s indeed The Dark, that’s a close to home one for her, since she had a few brushes with it over the course of the show – the Section 31 expedition to save Callum Brodie, leading to Rayner’s death and Basira’s decision to quit the police, her research to find out more about the People’s Church of the Divine Host (as shown in season 3) and her overall worry about them, which allowed Elias to convince her that they would attempt another ritual in Ny-Ålesund, leading to her discovering what “Rayner” was and travelling there with Jon, finding Manuela and the Dark Sun mid-season 4…

;ww; for Jon having faith in Basira, too… And the fact that once again, Basira has it a bit rougher than Jon&Martin (Jon had already told Martin that it had been a difficult journey for her, before they reunited). Helen does have a point that Basira seems to manage to find her way out in general: she had successfully escaped The Unknowing on her own, she had survived The Flesh’s attack on the Institute, she had pursued Daisy in the apocalypse… Basira has already gone through Helen’s corridors (offscreen at the end of MAG143, to return to the Institute), I’m YIKES about Helen implying that it would be “tempting” to grab her. (… But at the same time, why hasn’t she done it already, if she is capable of doing it? It might be a bit more complicated than that?)

- … I love Martin, I love that he was RIGHT to point out that Helen had just waltzed in to try and steer chaos:

(MAG183) MARTIN: Look, Helen, what do you even want? Okay, you keep turning up like a bad penny and, honestly, it, it seems like it’s… it’s just to be a dick! HELEN: Gasp! I am trying to be friends, Martin. Forever is a long time. And I occasionally like to have some company that isn’t… screaming. MARTIN: … What do you even think friendship is? HELEN: I dunno, do I? The only personhood I have is from someone I ate.

It feels like Helen has REALLY tried hard to make up for the weeks(?) she couldn’t find Jon and Martin? She went extra-hard on them: first with Basira, then implying to Jon that he had manipulated her into killing Daisy, then pointing out that Basira was not safe at the moment and still at risk of falling prey to other Fears (including herself), then trying to mock Martin about his domain, trying to guilt-trip Jon for not having told him about it yet, and when she finally managed to get Martin shocked and upset… job done, byebye.

Is it that she’s trying to get Jon so riled up he ends her? “Helen” used to like Jon and to turn to him (MAG101: “Helen liked you so… there’s a lot to consider. But I will help you leave.” / MAG115: “Before, talking to you made Helen feel better.”), before she was absolutely Down With Doors And Murders (MAG146: “We do what we need to do when it comes to feeding, don’t we? … Don’t we, Archivist?”), is it a remnant of that? Or is it really just an attempt at confusing Jon and Martin further, feeding from them Spiral-style?

- More about Martin’s domain later, but the reveal was BRUTAL, and yet not coming out of nowhere; we knew he had one, we knew he had almost been trapped in the Lonely house in MAG170 and the question was whether or not it had been (/was still) his domain once Martin got freed from it, but there was also the question of how Martin was able to walk in the apocalypse unharmed (was it due to Jon’s proximity, Martin’s connection to The Eye as an assistant, etc.), and Basira’s own status after Daisy’s death… so, yay! Answers and clarifications, and as usual, nothing feeling like a plot-twist, just things that make sense, and that we already had most of the information about!

(MAG183) ARCHIVIST: Martin… MARTIN: Are there people, Jon? ARCHIVIST: What? MARTIN: Are there people in my domain? ARCHIVIST: Not many. [SILENCE] MARTIN: Do you need to do your… your thing? Make a statement about whatever’s going on in there? … I could use a moment to think. ARCHIVIST: Sure thing. Yeah, I–I’ll… [INHALE] Yeah. [EXHALE] [BAG JOSTLING] [DEPARTING FOOTSTEPS]

Sobbing a bit about Martin’s priorities (“Are there people, Jon?”) and Martin asking for a quick me-time. It wasn’t ice-cold, Martin turned it into something useful for both of them (expecting that Jon would have to give his statement anyway), but aouch, he sounded absolutely shattered inside while blank on the surface…

- Yes, yes, yes, reminder that Smirke’s categorisation is arbitrary and just like the Doctor’s theory, sometimes just doesn’t work, because it’s trying to force-apply rules and a classification over something that resists it (and because the classification is not perfect from the start), but hey, that’s most theories and classifications out there anyway, so: Escher reference, the functioning of the Tower reminding me of the Great Twisting, and the reasonings sometimes reminding me of Gabriel’s work (MAG126), plus Helen popping by – it was Spiral stuff, right?

Well! I felt like it looks like Spiral, but the Doctor’s fears by themselves:

(MAG183) ARCHIVIST: “But it is not the fall that terrifies him, not the pain of the impacts, but the fact that none of them should be there. That it doesn’t make sense, and it must make sense, there must be a system, there must be, because if there isn’t– [THE BODY LANDS WETLY] He lands with a heavy smack onto rough limestone, and lies still, his body twisted and broken. He knows it will knit itself back together, slowly, painfully, as it always has before. But the thought of starting over, of composing yet another theory, fills him with a deep dread.”

… are more something I would identify as Eye (fear of a truth) and Hunt (fear of having to return to the start, to have to elaborate a new theory from scratch, again and again, of being trapped forever)?

It was really reminiscent of Smirke thinking back over his life, his hubris and the pride of being the one who would have found the answer, to the point where he would reject reality if it didn’t match his taxonomy (refusing to, well… do what you do with a theory: change, or evolve and perfect it when its flaws are pointed out):

(MAG138, Robert Smirke) “I believed then, as I still believe now, that these places I saw were the Powers themselves, expressed in their truest form, far more entirely than any ‘secret book’ can claim. And if, as I came to believe, the Dread Powers were themselves places of a sort, then surely with the right space, the right architecture, they could be contained. Channelled. Harnessed. So yes. Hubris. Not simply in that, I suppose, but in believing that those I brought into my confidence shared my lofty goals. […] Would you have me separate The Corruption between insects, dirt and disease? To, to divide the fungal bloom from the maggot? No. No, I… stand by my work. And thus, we must conclude that the only explanation is a new Power, created from what was once others, yet also distinct. And if such change is possible, how then can any “true balance” be achieved through immutable, unchanging stone…?”

(MAG183) ARCHIVIST: “If they are feeling very confident, they may lean down and stretch a curious tongue beyond their chipped teeth and rotten gums, desperate to add another sense to their observances – more evidence to support their declaration of what the world must be. […] They must simply study and learn, if they are to escape the labyrinth. They will be the first to escape. The one who sits in the central chamber cannot remember his name. But he knows that people called him “doctor”. He made sure of that; to ignore it would have been the greatest disrespect, and he will not be disrespected. […] He knows, for a fact, that this is the central chamber because he is the one sat here. […] They’ll all remember him forever, the first to escape the Monument. His name will be hallowed with the greats: Doctor, uh… Doctor…”

Same old pride, Leitner knew that well too (MAG080: “But I think, in my heart, I dreamed of my work becoming known. That ‘The Library of Jurgen Leitner’ would stand as a symbol of courage and protection. Hubris.”) and Gerry didn’t have many nice things to say about it (MAG111: “Flamsteed, Smirke, Leitner. Idiots who destroyed themselves chasing a secret that wasn’t worth knowing.”). Loved how the statements came for Smirke’s life and was absolutely ruthless about it – but maayyybe a bit too ruthless, even? Jon didn’t express much sympathy for “fools like Smirke” either, and this is a rare case in season 5 where I find that the statement was a bit lacking in empathy for… people who were technically victims. I mean! Insufferable pedantic academics sure are a type, they’re really not having the worst life out there, but it makes me feel a bit weird, with season 5’s overall tone, that the episode had that vibe of “serves them well, they’re insufferable” about people who were technically still trapped in a domain and suffering from it?

… I still laughed a lot about the Doctor vs. Professor rivalry and how they solved their argument:

(MAG183) ARCHIVIST: “The doctor that lies on the floor has recovered, just enough to laugh. ‘You’re still working on mineral theory? How painfully outdated.’ A flash of genuine fear crosses the face of the professor at this dismissal, before he picks up his chunk of granite, and begins to smash the doctor’s head in, yet again.” [SOUNDS OF BRUTAL PEER REVIEW]

Academia unleashed.

(- OKAY, I HAVE TO CONFESS that when the character could only remember his title as “Doctor”, with Smirke having been mentioned earlier, my mind just jumped to Doctor Fanshawe… ;; He had left a strong impression on me, okay.)

- ;w; Over the fact that Martin got his me-time and that it was enough: he was clearly tense, but he came back with direct questions and knew what he wanted cleared up…

(MAG183) MARTIN: Finished? ARCHIVIST: Yes. MARTIN: Good. … I need you to explain something to me. ARCHIVIST: All right.

- I can’t believe that Martin Global Heartthrob Blackwood made The Eye FALL FOR HIM too:

(MAG183) MARTIN: How do I have a domain? That doesn’t make any sense. ARCHIVIST: It’s like I said. [INHALE] Everything here is either watcher, or watched. MARTIN: [SIGH] Subject or object, yes, I know, we’ve been over this. ARCHIVIST: Well, you’re a watcher, Martin. You worked for the Institute, you read statements, The Eye is… fond of you. You’re not getting thrown into your own personal hell, which means…

Jane, Peter, Simon, Elias, Salesa, Annabelle, now Beholding – do you have any limit, Martin.

!! I’m excited over the fact that Martin’s entanglement with Beholding stuff was acknowledged! Comparatively, Melanie had read 2 statements (MAG086, MAG106) and Basira 1 (MAG112). Meanwhile, Martin had read 12; plus, although Tim, Melanie, Martin and Basira had taken (… or tried to take) one live statement each in MAG100, Martin had also taken 3 additional full statements:

MAG084, Adrian Weiss (Corruption) MAG088, Enrique MacMillan (Buried) MAG090, Ross Davenport (Flesh) MAG095, Luca Moretti (Slaughter) MAG098, Doctor Algernon Moss (Dark) MAG100 (live), Lynne Hammond (Desolation) MAG104 (live), Tim Stoker (Stranger) MAG108, Adonis Biros (Lonely) MAG110, Alexia Crawley (Web) MAG134, Adelard Dekker (Extinction) MAG138, Robert Smirke (Eye) MAG142 (live), Jess Tyrell (Buried, Eye) MAG144, Gary Boylan (Extinction) MAG149, Judith O’Neill (Extinction) MAG151 (live), Simon Fairchild (Vast) MAG156, Adelard Dekker (Extinction)

With Simon highlighting that Beholding had compelled him through Martin:

(MAG151) SIMON: Hm! No wonder I’m so sympathetic to The Lonely. You know: this really is a place for self-discovery, isn’t it? [CHUCKLE] “Statement ends”, I suppose! MARTIN: Uh… I’m sorry? SIMON: Oh! Nothing, just my own hubris. I should have known. When I came here, I said to myself: “Simon,” I said, “you’re going to answer this young man’s questions, but you’re not going to give The Watcher a statement. You’re better than that.” But it’s a hard one to resist, isn’t it? You get in the flow of talking about yourself, and it all just… tumbles out. MARTIN: Mm, does seem like it.

Elias might have been eyeing him as back-up Archivist, too (although since then, we’ve learned of his bet with Peter which would have already been running at the time – it might have been that Elias mostly wanted to ensure that Martin wouldn’t die during the Unknowing because he’d be needing him afterwards):

(MAG116) ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] What about Martin? MARTIN: What about me? ARCHIVIST: He should stay behind. MARTIN: What?! ELIAS: Really. MARTIN: Why? ARCHIVIST: Too many people might attract attention. MARTIN: No, no, I can help, I’ve been reading the statements! ELIAS: … Quite right, er, probably best he does stay behind. BASIRA: What, so you have a backup if Jon doesn’t make it? ELIAS: I’m sure that won’t be necessary.

Martin did a lot of research, read these statements aloud, took live statements, was hinted as a potential replacement; tape recorders have spawned around him like they do with Jon, even outside of statements, and Martin had been exceptionally kind towards them on multiple occasions; there had been that little moment of Martin somehow knowing that Jon was alive back in season 3 (MAG088: “It’s the not knowing, you know? I mean, Jon’s still alive. Not sure why, but I’m sure of that. But Sasha, I…”), shortly before we had learned about Jon’s own Knowing powers developing; we don’t know why and whether that was Beholding or The Web or something else, but Martin had been able to know how to get Jon out of the Coffin in season 4:

(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.

… And Peter’s whole plan relied on the fact that Martin was initially touched by Beholding:

(MAG134) PETER: [BREATHES] I’m still working out some of the kinks. But I believe I have a plan. However, it requires this place, and it requires someone touched by The Beholding. Elias was, perhaps unsurprisingly, unwilling to help.

(MAG158) PETER: It’s quite simple, really…! I want to use the powers of this place to learn about The Extinction: what it’s doing, where it’s manifesting. Then we can stop it. MARTIN: And you need me for this? PETER: Correct! Without a connection to The Eye, any attempt to use it would likely end… very messily indeed! But thankfully, it just so happens that you hold such a connection. MARTIN: So that’s it… Both “lonely” and “watching”. PETER: You must admit you’re the perfect candidate. MARTIN: I suppose I am.

Beholding baby!! Now coming in an additional Lonely flavour.

- Mmmmmmmm… The way Jon put it, it seems that Beholding is consciously rewarding its servant and:

* It could be Jon trying to make sense of something else, that he doesn’t understand? Gertrude didn’t think that the Fears were able to “think” at all (MAG145: “Sometimes, I think They understand us as… little as we understand Them. We don’t think like They do.” “I’m not actually convinced they “think” at all.”); reward&affection could be primitive enough feelings for a blob of terrors to work out (Martin fed Beholding as an assistant by reading statements => Beholding grants him things in the hope of getting fed even more?), but I don’t know, I can’t help but wonder if this is just Jon humanising the Fears a bit too much? It’s curious that Beholding got “fond” of Martin precisely when Jon himself fell in love with him – could Jon’s feelings have influenced Martin’s position in the apocalypse, could Jon be having a bit more power over the landscape than he realises?

* … If Beholding is rewarding its servants, that doesn’t bode well for Elias. WELL, no, I mean: it might mean that Elias is having a Great Time as a Beholding acolyte, which means it doesn’t bode well for my desire to see Elias get absolutely wrecked and wrong about being the “king of a ruined world”. I want him to have miscalculated, damnit! x’D

- I’m having so many feelings over Martin himself being unsure of what he wants, whether it’s better to know or to remain ignorant…

(MAG183) ARCHIVIST: It’s like I said. [INHALE] Everything here is either watcher, or watched. MARTIN: [SIGH] Subject or object, yes, I know, we’ve been over this. ARCHIVIST: Well, you’re a watcher, Martin. You worked for the Institute, you read statements, The Eye is… fond of you. You’re not getting thrown into your own personal hell, which means… MARTIN: [QUIETLY] That one of them belongs to me. But that’s… Ho–how can I be a “Watcher”? I, I didn’t even know it existed! ARCHIVIST: But you’ve suspected for a while now, haven’t you? MARTIN: Maybe? But that’s not “watching”! ARCHIVIST: Do you want me to tell you about it? MARTIN: No. … Yes. N–no, no, I don’t know, I don’t know. [SIGH]

Is it a remnant of his discussions with Tim in season 3? He’s basically gone the reverse of Tim about it:

(MAG098) MARTIN: Y’know, I think he thinks that the distance keeps us safe, you know? Like, like, if he just makes sure that we’re not involved, we’re somehow fine. TIM: He’s an idiot. Look, we didn’t know what that door was, and it still trapped us. Ignorance isn’t going to save anyone. MARTIN: No, I mean, you’re right, I guess.

Martin has seen enough to know now that ignorance doesn’t protect anyone, but also that knowledge can be used as a weapon – that the horrors are just made to hurt. I feel like, in his situation, noping out of Jon’s statements was one of his only ways to assert his boundaries (which had been denied from him — and from others — for a long time)? But here, the situation is different; it’s about Martin’s own involvement, he knew the knowledge would hurt anyway… but it’s also his load to bear? To at least face what is happening, since he’s benefitting from it, since he’s been made complicit (without ever wanting to)? It still goes perfectly with the exploration of exploitative and oppressive systems: Martin, unknowingly and unwillingly inflicting hurt, still being in a better situation than others… while not being directly responsible for it, not wanting to benefit from it. It really makes me want to see Jon&Martin find a way to reverse or improve things, to get people out of the domains or giving them the keys to escape them, and I don’t know if I can even hope something about this ;; (On the Jon&Martin front, things are so good; but it still feels so unfair for… everyone else.)

- Martin having a domain and being classified as a “watcher” finally explains why he hadn’t been impacted by the apocalypse since the Change! He had been able to get out of the domains’ grasp even when he wasn’t around Jon (he had fallen behind at the end of MAG163, he wandered around in the Web’s theatre, he left Jon alone for most of the statements), and there was still the question of… how he was still surviving without eating, and at the same time wasn’t (at least as far as we knew) trapped in a domain:

(MAG161) MARTIN: [MIRTHLESS HUFF] What about food? ARCHIVIST: What about it? When’s the last time you thought to eat, o–or even felt hungry? MARTIN: [FAINT] What…? Wha… Uh… I don’t know. ARCHIVIST: No. Whatever is sustaining us now doesn’t need us to eat. MARTIN: That… that can’t be possible– ARCHIVIST: It’s a new world, Martin, the natural laws are whatever they want them to be. And I suspect they don’t much care to keep humanity fed and watered.

I was wondering if it was Jon’s influence, or Martin being “trapped” in Jon’s domain, and Jon had also alluded to the possibility that they were themselves trapped in their quest towards the Panopticon:

(MAG169) ARCHIVIST: “Free” doesn’t really exist in this place. MARTIN: Apart from us. ARCHIVIST: I suppose. I–in a sense, though… [CHUCKLING] how much of that is because we are trapped in our own quest to– MARTIN: Okay, let’s, let’s not dive into another… ontological debate right now, not here. ARCHIVIST: Fair enough.

And Jon had even specifically told Martin that he had a domain, shortly before Martin got almost imprisoned in the Lonely house:

(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. ARCHIVIST: … Okay!

(MAG170) ARCHIVIST: 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. MARTIN: It’s okay. ARCHIVIST: … No, I… I tried to use the… to know where you were, but… it was… You–you were faint. It was so strange, i–it took me so long just to find you…! [RUSTLING OF CLOTHES] MARTIN: 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…! […] 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.

And alright, that finally answers it: the Lonely house wasn’t his domain, wasn’t meant to be (but he was susceptible to it, got almost trapped in it as a “watched” although he eventually managed to reject and break free from it). His own domain was elsewhere, and Martin himself was amongst the “watchers” all along; Martin is living a bit like Helen in this apocalypse, having a fixed domain, but able to navigate elsewhere.

Aouch for Martin, since he had been encouraging Jon to smite domains’ rulers as soon as he discovered that Jon could do it; it was already murky territory for Jon himself (if the “avatars” and “monsters” just deserve to die, what about Jon?), it was awful with Callum (Martin himself drew the line at smiting a kid)… but now, we know it was directly including him, too, and that he had been fed through people’s pain all along. No wonder Helen had encouraged the smiting so hard, if she already knew they were kind of neighbours…

… Double-aouch for Jon, because he had offered twice the option for Martin to stay elsewhere, permanently:

(MAG170) 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. MARTIN: … N–no…! It’s comforting here, leaving all those… painful memories behind, but… It’s not a good comfort, it’s… I–it’s the kind that makes you fade, makes you… dim and… distant.

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

And Jon probably didn’t know what Martin’s domain was exactly, back then, since we heard the knowing static kick in when he described the domain in this episode? But he probably knew, already, that Martin having a domain didn’t mean that he belonged to it as a victim, but as a ruler, and that it would hurt Martin so much. (“No one gets what they deserve. Not in this place. They just get whatever hurts them the most! … Even me.”, indeed ;;)

- I AM HAVING SO MANY FEELINGS OVER THE DESCRIPTION OF MARTIN’S DOMAIN…

(MAG183) [STATIC RISES] ARCHIVIST: It’s a small domain. A swirling mix of The Eye and The Lonely. Inhabited by a few lost souls whose fear is not of their isolation or their agonies, but that no-one… will ever know of them. That they shall suffer in silence, and be mourned by nobody. That’s why you can’t really see it. It’s why even if we do travel through it, you won’t be able to see… any of the people trapped there.

… It reminds me so much of what Martin probably experienced in his own flat, when Prentiss besieged him for two weeks and Martin was unable to contact anyone, and nobody came to check on him? Did Martin’s domain grow from his own old fears…?

It also reminds me a bit of Naomi’s brush with The Lonely:

(MAG013) NAOMI: The fog seemed to follow me as went and seemed to swirl around with a strange, deliberate motion. You’ll probably think me an idiot, but it felt almost malicious. I don’t know what it wanted, but somehow I was sure it wanted something. There was no presence to it, though, it wasn’t as though another person was there, it was… It made me feel utterly forsaken.

Overall, the description is extremely… typical from what we’ve seen of The Lonely: there was Naomi’s misadventure, Ethan disappeared and nobody even claimed his backpack (MAG048), Yetunde Uthman had “disappeared a year ago. And nobody noticed” (MAG150)…

(But from that description alone, it doesn’t sound very Beholding, despite what Jon said? I’m curious about the Eye aspect of it…)

- Can’t believe that Martin canonically turns out to be the Lonely Eyes love(hate)child, gdi. It really was a custody battle in MAG158.

- Extra-sad that Jon warned Martin that there was meaning in the fact that Martin didn’t know anything about his domain, and wouldn’t even be able to see people in there… It’s just so cruel, both for them, and for Martin, to learn that he’s been unknowingly contributing to their misery (because they fed him and he didn’t even know about them)?

Pretty sure that Martin will stay with Jon to hear that statement, at the very least ;; (Or could he ask for something more? We’ve seen Jon extracting Breekon’s statement in MAG128, I wonder if he could put something into someone’s head like Elias had done, allowing Martin to give that statement himself…)

- I’m wondering about Jon’s own domain, too, now! He said they were heading towards it, so it’s either the Panopticon, the Institute or the Archives, or a mix of those… or something close to it, on their way to it. If Martin’s domain is a mix of Lonely&Eye, is Jon’s pure Eye? A mix of the 14/15? A Web&Eye mix, given Jon’s own personal fears?

I know that Jonny (lovingly) called out the obsessive classification in this episode through Jon, who went off on a rant about the “neat little boxes”, but he’s still using the Smirke classification this season:

(MAG183) ARCHIVIST: It’s a small domain. A swirling mix of The Eye and The Lonely.

(AND IN THIS VERY EPISODE… Jon…)

- On the one hand: feeling directly called out by Jon’s rant about how the divisions between avatars/monsters/humans/victims wasn’t and isn’t working, that reality escapes that division because it’s much more complicated than this:

(MAG183) ARCHIVIST: [HEATED] Avatar isn’t a thing, Martin, it’s not–! It’s just a word. A word used by… fools like Smirke to try and sort everything into neat little boxes, to reduce the messy spray of human fear into a checklist: Human, avatar, monster, victim. Only now, now, there’s a binary. There’s finally a clear dividing line and… [SIGH] Well. I’m sorry you’re not happy with which side you’ve ended up on.

(It felt especially relevant with Callum Brodie: could we really tell that he was an “avatar” when he was still a freshly wounded kid, even if a tormentor himself?)

On the other hand, well, that was still a useful distinction to have to identify servants, and mostly, I’m not extremely convinced by Jon arguing that there is now a Clear BinaryTM in the new world, between the “watchers” and the “watched”, since:

1°) Helen herself explained the dichotomy to Martin (MAG166: “And so, there are now exactly two roles available in this new world of ours: the watcher, and the watched. Subject, and object. Those who are feared, and those who are afraid.”). Given that she mostly tries to confuse them… that’s a red flag.

2°) Despite Jon defending that binary, we’ve run into plenty of examples of things… not fitting into that new classification. He himself acknowledged that Basira’s status wasn’t established yet; we’ve seen Salesa, protected by his camera from the chaos; Jon has been unable to know about Georgie and Melanie, only hypothesising that they might in what-used-to-be-London; Martin, a watcher, could still have fallen prey to another domain… That’s already a lot of special cases around that “clear dividing line”…

3°) Somethingsomethingsomething about how it’s in Beholding’s best interest that Jon believes in a clear, unchangeable, dividing line which serves Beholding’s own interests. If things feel fixed and unchangeable, then there is no point trying to fight against it or find a loophole, right?

Given that a Watcher can get trapped in another domain… does that mean that it could be the case for Jon, too? We got a threat of it in MAG172, when Jon began to give the statement of the following act – if Martin hadn’t interrupted him, would Jon have ever been able to stop?

- Confirmation that Daisy had “trapped” Basira in her Hunt! I was suspecting it since Jon’s first wording:

(MAG164) MARTIN: Is Basira alive? ARCHIVIST: [INHALE] MARTIN: Is she… in… o–one of these places? [STATIC RISES] ARCHIVIST: She’s alive. Out there, not… trapped in a–a hellscape, but… moving. [STATIC DECREASES] Hunting. She’s… she’s looking for Daisy. She’s a few steps behind.

(MAG183) MARTIN: … What about Daisy? Or Basira? ARCHIVIST: Daisy carved through the domains of others. Basira… well… In a very real way she was a sufferer in Daisy’s domain. Maybe the only one. Hunting, following, hurting. Now Daisy’s dead, she’s… free. Sort of. She’s inherited something of Daisy’s ability to move through the other domains. For now, she’ll… feed off what she sees in them. As to whether the Eye ultimately gives her a domain of her own… I don’t know yet.

* And now, Basira seems to have a peculiar status… Is it because she killed Daisy? Is it because she killed the ruler of her domain? Jon explained that a ruler’s death didn’t change much for the domain itself, but maybe it operates differently if a victim kills a ruler (… they become the new ruler?)

* Another reminder that Jon cannot see the future.

* Big Eyeball didn’t immediately give Basira a domain, but Martin got one. I see that favouritism, uh. (Joke, it does make sense given how Martin recorded a lot of statements and had worked at the Institute for years and years.)

- I love how Jon managed to explain why he hadn’t told Martin everything, and how Martin… indeed agreed that Jon had been mostly trying to respect his wishes about not knowing ;; It’s true that Martin had been adamant about not hearing much of the horror:

(MAG163) MARTIN: J–Jon, enough! Enough! [STATIC FADES] … Please don’t tell me these things. ARCHIVIST: I… I’m sorry, I– There’s just so much! There’s so much, Martin, and I know all of it, I can see all of it, and I– It’s filling me up, I need to let it out! MARTIN: I’m sorry, but tough. Okay? Tha–that’s not what I’m here for. [VOICE IN THE DISTANCE: “No… No!”] MARTIN: I can’t be that for you, I–I just can’t.

(MAG167) 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. ARCHIVIST: … Okay!

(MAG183) MARTIN: You didn’t tell her any of that. ARCHIVIST: I didn’t think the metaphysics of her place in the fear ecosystem was something she’d be particularly interested in at that moment. MARTIN: Fair. But you seem very reluctant to tell anyone any of this stuff. ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] I did try, right at the start, but y–you didn’t seem to want to talk about it, so I didn’t push it. It’s hard, I have so much knowledge but… how do I decide what people want me to share, and what they never want to know?. MARTIN: I guess that makes sense.

But Martin seems to acknowledge that indeed, Jon had been trying his best about it…

(And now, I wonder if there is still other stuff that Jon hadn’t told Martin, in the same vein…)

- First choice for Martin:

(MAG183) ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] I was going to bring it up at the crossroads. Inside. I only just realised we would be going this way. […] MARTIN: I guess that makes sense. … So what did you mean about the crossroads? When you were talking to Helen. ARCHIVIST: It’s a maze in there, something between a, a Rubik’s Cube and a Magic Eye picture. I can find us the way through easily enough but… well. For us, there are two ways out. Two paths to London. MARTIN: What are the choices? ARCHIVIST: One would be a long, winding route, we’d see a lot of horrors, but remain… personally untouched. MARTIN: And the other is my domain. ARCHIVIST: Eventually. It’s a shorter path, with faces we know along the way. Including Helen. MARTIN: I thought Helen was her domain, wi–with all the doors and that? ARCHIVIST: She is, but she has a… position within this pseudo-landscape, like any other. MARTIN: O–okay. [INHALE] So, so, I mean, I suppose we’ve got to do that one, right? ARCHIVIST: We don’t have to, w–we–we could just– MARTIN: What, what? We could, we could dodge around it? Take the path of denial? I guess, but… what is it you keep harping on about? “The journey will be the journey”? [SIGH] I mean… It’s pretty obvious that this one is my journey.

! Glad that Martin didn’t hesitate and immediately understood what it was about – that it mattered to do it that way, that Martin had to face it, that this is how this world works. No hesitation about it. He got a demonstration with Basira, but still, he was quick to accept it.

I’m expecting a few episodes before Martin’s domain, so… with the overall rhythm of the season, they might reach the Institute by MAG189? And Hill Top Road during Act III?

- Since Jon mentioned that the path Martin ended up choosing had:

(MAG183) ARCHIVIST: Eventually. It’s a shorter path, with faces we know along the way. Including Helen.

I wonder about those “faces we know”, since we’re running super-low on ~avatars~. Different options:

* Institute staff. Rosiiiie?

* Melanie&Georgie. A bit unlikely, given that Jon had trouble knowing what was the deal with them, I feel?

* Since Helen will be there, people who gave live statements to Jon and were trapped in his nightmare zoo. I’m mostly thinking about this one, especially since Jon’s “No one gets what they deserve. Not in this place. They just get whatever hurts them the most! … Even me.”… (And if it’s about an internal and metaphorical journey, I feel like having to face people that Jon hurt, first unaware (he didn’t know about the nightmare zoo when he signed to become the Head Archivist), then partially unwilling but still doing it (he felt guilty about it but still hid it, still chose self-preservation instead of warning the others about it), would have its place…)

- In the same fashion, who is trapped in Martin’s domain? Unrelated people? Live statement-givers? (;; I’m thinking of Jess, who had the misfortune of being compelled by Jon and of giving a statement to Martin…)

… Given that it’s confirmed to be a “journey” for Martin too, I can’t help but squint at Jon’s wording, because. “Faces we know”. The only thing we know of Martin’s father is the fact that he looks like Martin… (MAG118: “The thing is, though, Martin: if you ever do want to know exactly what your father looked like… all you have to do is look in a mirror~ The resemblance is quite uncanny. The face of the man she hates, who destroyed her life, watching over her, feeding her, cleaning her, looking down on her with such pity–”)

- I’ll be having Annabelle’s words stuck in my head (ha) for a long time but:

(MAG181) ANNABELLE: Don’t worry, Martin. We’ll meet again. Hopefully when you’re feeling a little bit more… open-minded…! MARTIN: I wouldn’t count on it. ANNABELLE: I would. MARTIN: [SIGH]

… Was it a reference to Martin learning about his own domain and about how the world operates, his place in it? I think that Martin might be even more resolved to turn the world back at whatever cost, now that he knows that he is himself sustained by fear…

(LISTEN, THIS IS ABSOLUTELY HOW WEB!MARTIN CAN STILL WI–)

- !! Footage of Martin saying “I love you” for the first time ;w; I love how it was the thing he was certain about, both a slight decompressing joke and a true statement, a reminder that he has faith in Jon, that he has something to cling to?

(MAG183) ARCHIVIST: If you’re sure. MARTIN: … I’m sure I love you. [FOOTSTEPS] ARCHIVIST: I love you too. [FABRIC RUSTLES] Let’s go.

(He had mentioned that he was “in love” in MAG170, I’m happy to hear him telling Jon, too!) And the fabric RUSTLED, SO LONG AND SO HARD, AND AT LEAST TWICE!! I love how the tension from right before and after the statement had faded by the end of the episode ;w; Rollercoaster of little emotions…

MAG184’s makes me think of something Leitner had said (more lore about the Fearpocalypse?), and of Vast and Corruption… with very different vibes. If Corruption, and keeping in mind that Jon has announced that they will be encountering “faces [they] know along the way”, it cooould contain Jordan Kennedy, the exterminator from Pest Control…? Especially given that both Jon and Martin had met him (Jon took his live statement, and Martin pleaded offscreen for him to get them the jar of Prentiss’s ashes to comfort Jon).

(Yessss, I am absolutely aware of the irony of still using Smirke’s categorisation after another episode in which we were told again that it is bollocks, but if Jon himself still occasionally labels the domain as one of the 15, so can I ♥)

[awhilesince]

Thursday, 23 August 1827 (travel journals)

7

1 55/60

Rain all last night, and rainy morning till between 9’ and 10 – fair when we started – Breakfast from 8 1/4 to 9 1/2 –

off from Bex at 9 50/60 – very comfortable Inn, but not cheap – generally full of English – Lady Ross and her daughter there for a fortnight while the rest of of her party went to the Great St. Bernard – Bex a nice little town – good church – hedges on each side the road of sloe, hazel, and sometimes quickweed, etc

at 10 10/60 wood bridge over little stream – 10 1/4 first appearance of the tints of autumn – valley wider – fertile – mountains well wooded – clouds along them – vines, walnuts, Indian corn, etc etc

at 11, Aigle, quite a ville – 2 churches – castle – pretty large town – narrow streets – no good houses – just a the end of the town, cross wooden bridge over stream –

at 11 40/60 picturesque village – at 12 neat little village –

at 12 55/60 1st peep at the lake (of Geneva) –

Lake Geneva, CC BY-SA 3.0

at 12 20/60 stop at Villeneuve to bait the horses– goodish church of pretty good little town – off at 1 20/60 – the lake too Extensive for me, and the mountains on the south side too low –

Castle of Chillon, CC BY-SA 4.0

at 1 40/60 stop at the castle of Chillon, now used by the government as a powder magazine, and a guard mounted – one family living there – very respectable people – the woman shewed us all she could – the prison, oubliette (3 stories deep – into which those were let down destined to die of hunger) one or 2 of the galleries, one or 2 of the rooms (the great hall – kitchen now occupied by this family) and the court in which some of the prisoners were allowed to walk – the prison 45 by 20 of my common paces – the broadeth of the 1st 6 paces of length equally divided (since in the Swiss power) into entrance and a dungeon (right) – lofty – 8 columns supporting 7 moderately pointed arches down the middle of the prison – BYRON cut with a penknife by Lord B– [Byron] himself, on the 3rd column on entering – the prieure Bonnivard chained to the next, or 4th column – perhaps about 18 feet high to the Top of the vaulting – the prison partly cut out of the Sandstone rock – spacious, and light enough, and airy – quite a paradise compared with the cells of the inquisition at Venice –

40 minutes at the castle, and off at 2 20/60 – very pretty drive along the lake – the back-look upon the castle, and Villeneuve, and its lofty steeple, and the dark, high mountains stretching thence close along the lake towards Meillerie, fine –

after passing the pretty little village of Vernet, very soon alighted at the still prettier village of Clarens so celebrated by Rousseau, and when Lord Byron passed 2 or 3 nights – inquired for the house to which his lordship had taken such a fancy – stumbled upon the very spot – a nut-brown, respectable farmer’s wife of about 60 was proud to tell us how she had entertained his lordship and his friend (some foreign baron) – they were caught in a storm on the lake – his lordship would insist upon it, the house must be an auberge, and would go there – the old woman made all comfortable and his lordship was so pleased, said he would go again, and did afterwards go for 2 nights – she said he had paid her well (for the 1st night) – I had the curiosity to ask what he gave her – a Napoleon – we were all taken with the place – the woman said she had cried like a child, when her brother (who has a very nice house close by – rebuilt on the spot on which stood Rousseau’s house) brought her the paper containing the account of his death – he was so good – had une telle manière – never saw anyone who had such a manner – there, said she, is the little sofa on which he sat writing the night he came in from the storm – there had been a young lady to look at his bed, and she had kissed it 20 times – mylady (Lady B– [Byron]) too had been there, but unluckily the old woman (she looks strong and hale and active) was from home – had taken the key of the room with her and Lady B– [Byron] could not see it – the husband a respectable looking farmer – they have a nice little apartment upstairs (au 2nd) for 9 or 10 napoleons a year, now let to an old couple – went up to see it – the old lady, 80, skipped, and danced, and shewed us all her perfect set of teeth, and chatted away delighted to find Mrs and Miss B– [Barlow] were from Paris where she (Swiss) had made money as femme de charge in high French families – was there during the revolution – 55 minutes with these good people who brought us cake (Swiss gauffers, Excellent etc) and offered wine, or anything they had, and did not get off till 3 40/60 having 1st taken the address of Lord B–‘s [Byron’s] friend Françoise Paoli, née Muzigny, Clarens près de Montreux, a pretty looking little town that we had passed at a little distance up the hill, to the right.

Tour de Piel a good village – alight at the 3 crowns at Veveay at 4 1/2 – got out Miss MacL–‘s [Maclean’s] letter (brought with me from England) and went with to Mrs Falconet Faviholme (pronounced Farum), 3 doors below the Inn – not at home – left a line or 2 in pencil to say how glad I should be to see her for a few moments –

Mrs and Miss B– [Barlow] and I then took a little saunter – to the post-office, and the handsome cornmarket supported on Tuscan columns in the grande place, and came in at 6 10/60 –

sat down to dinner at the table d’hote at 6 1/2 – Mrs F– [Falconet] F– [Faviholme] and her sister came immediately – went up and received them in my bedroom where they sat with me chatting for an hour – promised to go to them for a little after dinner if I could – Mrs F– [Falconet] F–[ Faviholme] reminded me a little of Miss MacL– [Maclean] she is Tall, and thin, delicate looking, quiet, and ladylike, and seems a nice woman – ditto but in a less degree her sister –

then went down to Dinner – people are so long here at the Table d’hôte, I had time enough to get all I wanted and make a good dinner and left the table with the rest at 8 1/4 – then immediately went to the Falconets – 5 brothers, so each for distinction adds the name of his wife to his own, and thus my friends friend is madame F– F[alconet] F– [Faviholme] chatted – drank tea, and sat with them till 9 40/60 – Mr Falconet Faviholme apparently an amiable good sort of man – a Swiss gentleman, I suppose, in manners – but not a thorough bred English man – yet very civil and attentive, and walked back with me – very fine day – not much sun, and Mrs and Miss thought it cold –

reference number: SH:7/ML/TR/2/0012, SH:7/ML/TR/2/0013

[mobagehelllocal]

“do you even lift bro?” extra notes i - iii:

I finally finished rereading all my “do you even lift bro?” stories! Man, I feel like I wrote them ages ago. As I mentioned before, I have been going back to do grammatical edits and what not. In the process, I’ve also been noting down my thought process for writing these pieces, and little easter eggs I put in for fun~ This extra notes will contain my thoughts from versions i to iii! 

*please do not read if you haven’t read “do you even lift bro?” ver i - iii. 

The title came to me immediately upon reading the request hahah. originally, it was meant to just be fluffy and cute... but I think it’s actually pretty funny. To me, at least hahah. 

Divus’s was the one exception, but i’ll get into that later.

The reader personality was based on one of my ocs. She was also the oc in my special Malleus x OC story, “bright eyes.”

I went with her because she was an OC, who, in my opinion, is the epitome of a optimistic fangirl lmao. If you’ve read “bright eyes” then I think you’d understand what I mean hahahah. 

For ver i--I think I definitely wrote Riddle’s first. followed by Leona, Azul, Malleus, Kalim, Vil then Idia. 

One of my best friends is a super huge Riddle stan (if you’re reading this, hi sis!) so I wrote his story primarily with her energy in mind. In short, she would most definitely bench press Riddle. 

Her energy + the base reader personality makes Riddle’s story one of the most fun actually. His reader is probably the most mischievous ones--which I thought balanced out well with Riddle’s actual personality. 

Leona’s story is heavily influenced by pride dynamics. It’s common knowledge that it’s the female lions who hunt hence why in Afterglow Savanna--the women are stronger. Leona is royalty, so I assumed that from a young age he’d be told to wed a strong woman. 

I also need to note that Leona is described as respecting women. here’s the thing, I’m pretty sure it’s specifically women from Afterglow Savanna because they could bench press him. That’s not to say he doesn’t respect all women--he probably just puts women from Afterglow Savanna on a different standard because of his experience with them. Either way, you surprised him greatly, and assume that Leona will not be able to look you in the eye for awhile.

Azul’s story specifically takes place after Jamil SR Lab Coat episodes and Azul’s R PE Uniform episodes. I found their relationship funny, and thought it would be fun to continue off from there. 

Most of Azul’s stories come from me just wanting to fluster the hell out of Azul... that being said, I did delve a bit into the magic of TWST for this one. I remember it was Crowley (was it in the prologue?) who noted that magic is dependent also on how much someone believed in their ability to do something. This is why Azul falls down haha, his will faltered and he stopped believing. 

Jamil doesn’t get a break at all, doesn’t he? The reader and Jamil actually vibe really well because they both understood enough about Kalim to know what he was doing.

I think I remember being pretty stuck on which one to do for this. I think it was reading Jamil’s SSR Dorm Uniform story that really made me have an ‘aha’ moment on how to write it--since something like this happens on there. 

Surprisingly for Vil, once I had figured out that I wanted to write him getting mobbed, and being saved by his reader--it flowed out really fast from there. 

For Vil, I always end up bringing up the issue that he’s something like a celebrity and you are one in the million who adore him. I thought that this was just one way to sort of tackle your relationship together. 

I really enjoyed highlighting how you love Vil different from the rest who adore him. The importance of how you see his flaws and still love him--especially because as an influencer Vil has a certain pressure to appear in a certain way. 

Idia’s was the last one I wrote, but I had a lot of fun because I stuffed it full of references. I figured that Idia’s thought process would be more of him thinking life as a game, that’s why he uses terms like support level often in my writing. 

On that note, I know ‘Gao-Gao Dragon-kun’ is a reference to Tamagotchi, but I decided to just merge up Tamagotchi and Pokemon in this case. Hence why ‘Gao-Gao Shield and Sword’ existed lmao. I didn’t put too much effort in that and just switched ‘Shield and Sword’’s order HAHAH. I did consider making it ‘Gao-Gao Gun and Wand’ though. 

‘Water Crest: The Seven Dorms’ is a reference to Fire Emblem: Three Houses. I felt incredibly clever when I came up with that HAHAH. But also, when he references support levels, he’s talking about a gameplay in Fire Emblem. For people who aren’t familiar with this, essentially, FE has a system wherein the more you use two units together the likely their support will rise. The supports go from C-B-A-S, with S as the highest. When Idia says he works hard on S Support, he literally means he went out of his way to spend time with you and befriend you. Isn’t that cute? When he references SS Support, it actually doesn’t exist HAHA, but he didn’t realize there was “another level” sort of thing xD

When I write funny Malleus stories, the other members of Diasomnia are likely to be hiding in the bushes. Most funny stuff probably fly over Malleus’s head so... The other Diasomnia members pop in to react hahaha.

To Malleus, your tendency to treat him as a regular person, and not treating him as a lord--makes him incredibly fond of you. It’s because you treat him as an equal, that makes him treat you as an equal. I also think this was the piece where he started calling you “bright light.” There’s no deeper meaning to it, he really just sees you as a bright light--like a brilliant star. You, literally, light up the world. :,) 

Ver ii order of writing--Ashton, Dire, Divus. I had come up with the premise of Divus first though. 

I think Dire was the hardest one for me, because I kept worrying about things like--’what if he’s not actually like this,’ or ‘what if that isn’t how he would actually act’ etc etc. but I think it turned out pretty alright.

Dire, for all his claims of being a kind person--I think actually is a kind guy. He does have the tendency to be a little manipulative and whatnot... but at the end of the day he does care.

For Divus, I sniffed GBF Belial’s Perfume because I wanted to get inspired (and I sort of headcanon they smelled alike) but it went horny too fast. 

Divus is naturally intrigued with you, and he’s also very aware you’re attracted to him. So it amuses him to fluster you. He’s very aware of how good-looking he is, and he doesn’t mind flirting with people.

How I chose to portray Divus is actually based on how @avionvadion writes Divus in her story “Once Upon A Dream.” please check it out! It’s a super cute fanfic about a girl in Twisted Wonderland~ 

Ashton... I was surprised at how fast I was able to write his piece actually hahha. I went with a no braincell, but cheerful and all-around good guy. 

I don’t think there was a lot of Ashton to really research about, but... I just tried to make him good guy Gaston... for now xD 

Ver iii--it went Floyd, Jamil, Jade, Rook, Lilia, and Epel.

There’s this scene in, I think, the first episode of Avatar: The Legend of Aang where Appa wouldn’t fly. So Sokka just straight up... insulted? Appa? i guess. Then Appa suddenly COULD fly, and Sokka was just straight up amazed and yelling... Yeah that was my primary inspiration for Floyd’s story.

Floyd... Floyd is twins with Jade, let’s not forget that. I’m sure Floyd is actually really intelligent, he just isn’t in the mood to be sometimes. Hence he’s able to really understand something when you say something seriously. I think Floyd would always take you seriously when you say something important. 

For Jade’s story, my inspiration was the story of my dad tripping. It was only witnessed by him and mom. My mom talked about how terrifying it was to watch a six foot tall man fall down. My dad just found it funny. Hence, I thought, Jade should trip. 

Other than that, the general idea I wanted was that it’s our time to pamper Jade. He’s one of the two characters who I know would love to pamper his reader. So this was his lover’s chance to pamper him. Also, he’s also one of two characters who would have an idea about your insane strength.

Jamil, much like Jade, is the type of guy who pampers the people he loves. He doesn’t take to being pampered too well. He’s not used to it. 

Jamil also appreciates getting his hard work recognized, so I’m sure he has a praise kink hahah. He’s also easily embarrassed. I think Jamil needs someone who acknowledges all of his hard work, who also accepts his mistakes. 

Epel was the last one to write, and actually a genuine struggle for me. I always... end up writing something in relation to his struggles with his face and femininity. Epel is someone who wants to be seen as a real man, so I worried about what he’d think of a reader who had the strength he wanted. 

I figured if it was anyone else, it might inspire jealousy in Epel--but because it was his lover, he was able to push aside his negative feelings and look at the bright side. You’re truly his ideal, and he wants to learn how to be strong from you.

Rook was another tough one. There did exist a version where you surprise him... but the more I thought about it, the more I found it impossible for Rook to not know or not have an idea. He’s the other character who would have an idea about your strength.

On that note, thinking about a romantic partner for Rook... I thought what was best was someone who wouldn’t find him odd. Who would actually try to learn about him. 

Lilia’s... was also pretty easy given he enjoyed hanging upside down a lot in the main story hahah. Lilia cute, I love him. Also, when will Lilia stop messing with Idia? Probably never tbh. 

I touched upon the topic of mortality and immortality, but because I wanted this to be lighthearted--I chose not to pursue it. It would drag the mood down, but honestly--it’s something we can’t ignore and is very integral in relationships with Lilia or Malleus.

[avvidstarion]

I realized i never really post about ursula’s plot so here’s a summary of her backstory up until the events of the campaign:

- if you don’t know, ursula arctos is a human bloodhunter (order of the lycan). her lycan form is a werebear (specifically a moon bear)

-ursula had a pretty good childhood, unlike literally every other oc of mine. she has two dads, maurice and haemire.  maurice is a quiet human goatherd who used to be a powerful mercenary called Maurice The Grizzly, but abandoned the life in favor of a quiet life with his husband. haemir is an elven wizard/artifcer who met maurice on a job and convinced him that supposed god-given glory wasn’t worth a short life of misery and hardship

-ursula herself is a pretty solid combination of both of her fathers- maurice taught her combat skills and leadership and haemir taught her all about magic and the joys of learning (although she is absolutely terrible at spellwork itself) 

-ursula was always a restless child and always felt too big for her tiny little village, so when she turned 18 she decided to become an adventurer herself. she enrolled in the local bloodhunter academy, the Silverbite Academy. although bloodhunters are generally seen as creepy freaks, she had always thought they were cool. she viewed studying at the academy as the perfect way to mesh her interests together- the academy trains its students in combat but also has its students take intensive courses in things like monster lore, religion, history, and magical studies (”know thy enemy”, etc). since she sucks so bad at casting, she figured the next best thing was to just read and learn about magic as much as she could. plus blood magic isnt quite actual magic, but it’s as close as she can get.

-students study at the academy for four years (students are usually 18 when they start, it’s basically college, but anyone can join at any time), and then do a year of work in the field under the mentorship of an experienced bloodhunter. the valedictorian of each graduating class gets to study under the headmaster of the academy. silverbite is specifically order of the lycan, so the night after graduation all graduates are given the gift of lycanthropy in an extremely secretive ceremony. students aren’t told anything about it besides the fact that there is a chance they could die during the process (it’s basically the joining from dragon age), and that afterword they will receive an earring in the shape of a silver fang as both a badge of honor and as a way to control their lycanthropy. the ceremony is affectionately referred to as “getting your fangs” by students, bc 1) you get your lycanthrope form and 2) the earrings

-on her first day at school, ursula met an elvan man named sasha ilihice. the two immediately hated each other and were rivals for their entire time at the academy, constantly trying to outdo each other in everything and competing for the valedictorian spot. eventually, the two of them realized that they had developed feelings for the other, and began dating in their senior year. shortly after, they graduated as co-valedictorians of their class.

-that night, after they graduated, sasha and ursula got super drunk and realized “hey we might die tomorrow so fuck it let’s get married” and then had the dnd equivalent of a vegas drivethru wedding. 

-ursula made it through the ceremony fine, but sasha did not. he didn’t die, but he came very close. the process wreaked havoc on his body, turned his hair white, and left him very weak. he couldn’t even transform all the way. he was still given a fang and was allowed to do his year of mentorship in the field, but he struggled for the first time in his life and was left feeling very resentful and angry. sasha was the son of nobles, and his whole life his parents raised him with insanely high expectations and made sure he always maintained a perfect image. he hated that he looked so pathetic, and hated that others were better than him and looked down upon him. he felt entitled to success, and when his life didn’t turn out the way he planned he kinda flipped out

-ursula and sasha completed their year of field work studying under the headmaster of the academy, octavius hu. octavius is beloved by all students of the academy and is seen as a semi parental figure, and the three stayed close friends even after the year was up. ursula even helped babysit octavius’s daughter, olivia, who immediately took a shining to her. ursula was like olivia’s Cool Big Sister, and she really looked up to her. 

-sasha and ursula moved into a little house on the grounds of the academy (there’s a whole little residential area on campus that graduates move in to bc 1) the academy also serves as the HQ for all the bloodhunters in the area, and so those who are active in the field have to stay close so they can get assignments and stuff and also 2) bloodhunters and lycans are generally disliked so honestly there’s nowhere else for them to go). as the years went on, sasha and ursula’s marriage became strained.they’re basically those people that marry their high school sweetheart right after graduation only to wake up years later and realize that they are completely different people than they were when they got married and that maybe they rushed into things, but they’ve been together for so long that they don’t get divorced bc they don’t know anything else

- also sasha became resentful and jealous of ursula and her success, and ursula coddled sasha and treated him as though he were something to save, which only made things worse.

-about five or six years after they graduated, strange things began to happen around the academy. people’s tempers became short, fights were breaking out, stuff like that. sasha, ursula, and octavius, strangely, seemed to be at the epicenter of it. sasha especially seemed to be especially on edge at all times. 

-tensions came to a head one day when ursula and sasha were out on a monster hunting job. while in her lycan form, ursula just completely lost control of herself and ended up going berserk sasha, too, seemed to be driven into a frenzy, and the two of them ended up killing some civilians. the only thing that snapped ursula out of it was the fact that, somehow, sasha was able to fully transform. she had never seen him do that before, and immediately figured out that obviously something was very, very wrong

-ursula poured herself into research, and came up with a theory about what was going on: someone in the academy had become corrupted by malar, the god of evil lycanthropes, and the corruption was spreading among the graduates. basically it’s magic rabies

-ursula presented her findings to octavius and sasha in the headmaster’s officce. sasha and her ended up in a fight, and as she turned to storm away he grabbed her from behind and slit her throat in a fit of fury. as ursula lay bleeding out, sasha revealed to her and octavius that it was he who had made the deal with malar in exchange for the power that was stolen from him

-ursula died, went to hell, and some time later ran into a party of adventurers. she agreed to help them with their quest in exchange for help busting out of hell

-they made it out, and ursula realized that she had been dead for seven years. she’s still caught halfway between life and death, and still has an open wound where her neck was slashed. she covers it with a choker, but can never forget that it’s there and can never forgive who gave it to her

[bittersweetmelxdy]

I wanted to say I love your stories and HC. Just read Gavin's AU prologue. I really like this series. I wanted to ask if you can write a continuation of this story where main character is pregnant and Gavin's dad tell her he needs a grandson as in his thinks only "son should inherit everything and girls are worthless etc etc". But Gavin fights his dad as he will love the child no matter of their gender ? It's ok if you need time or you don't like the idea. Take care, Stay blessed 😘

Thanks dear for the praise, so here it is, the much awaited 3rd part to this series (that may need a name eventually), although the situation is very fluffy for Gavin and MC, sadly due to Gavin’s father (hateful man) this does have about 2tbsp of angst in here. That being said, I hope you like this

Title: to be the bearer of bad newsPairing: Gavin x MCWords: 1,853

Ever since the pregnancy announcement in the pavilion, it now felt like you had obtained a second shadow. Gavin somehow hadn’t left your side since the news had broken, either he was with you doing whatever you wanted to do, or he had you sat within sight range whilst he performed his duties. You often sat on the benches in the pavilion watching the recruits train whilst Gavin threw glances at you from his post as overseer. You laughingly had told Gavin when he worried over you that he had nothing to worry about, you would just sit back “and increase” (Gavin for some reason didn’t find this as funny as you did). You splayed your fingers across your swollen stomach, drumming your fingers lightly against the muslin of your dress. Closing your eyes, you could still remember the day you first felt what most matrons had referred to as “the quickening”, you had been sitting with Gavin in his study, him being behind his desk working on paperwork and you sat reclined on the sofa he had installed after the broken foot incident. The two of you had been working away quietly at your separate pursuits, when you felt it. You immediately gasped and started to sniffle in the joy at feeling your little one stirring in your belly. Gavin’s head whipped up in your direction, and at the sounds of your cries was quickly at your side, soothing you and trying to ascertain what you were feeling and how to fix it. Struggling through your tears, you began to giggle, further confusing your panicked husband, but you managed to finally get your point across when you clutched his hand and pressed it firmly against your stomach.

“It happened, Gavin.” your free hand cradled his face.

Gavin realising your predicament, his eyes widened and with he pressed a kiss against the soft cotton of your dress that covered your stomach, “Our child, our precious baby.” he whispered reverently.

“My Lady?” Kiki softly asked, knocking her knuckles against the wood of the pavilion, rousing your gently from your train of thoughts and back to the present.

“Yes, Kiki?” you answered, folding your hands atop your stomach.

“Lord Qi’s carriage was spotted approaching the drive.” she replied.

You frowned, not remembering if Lord Qi had mentioned he was coming to call on you, “We’ll be there soon, please direct him to the daylight room we’ll receive him there.” Kiki smiled and curtsied before returning to the house.

Kiki leaving the pavilion, alerted Gavin, and after dismissing the squad he and Minor made their way in to check on you. Once he was close enough to you, Gavin sat next to you, his arm wrapped around your form to caress you shoulder.

“Are you well Love?” he asked gently.

“Yes, Kiki just informed me that your father’s carriage was seen entering the estate.” you informed him, smiling sweetly at him.

Gavin frowned but gently helped you to your feet, and although you felt perfectly capable to stand on you own, you thought better than to argue with your protective husband. Minor hovered behind the two of you, as Gavin slowly escorted you back to the main house, but he quickly made sure to the run in front of the two of you to gallantly open the door for the two of you. You thanked Minor for his service, and you had to stifle your giggles into your hand at how Minor almost preened at the thanks you and Gavin bestowed upon him. Entering the daylight room, the two of you were quite happy to know that you had preceded your unexpected guest. Gavin had settled you on the couch, which was a light blue with white trimmings, matching the blue and white wallpaper of the room, hence why you had named it the daylight room, as along with the sky-themed colour scheme the room also featured large bay windows allowing for maximum light. Gavin had barely sat down; before you could hear a muffled shouting happening in the normally serene hallways. Your eyes widened and looked to Gavin in concern, but his jaw only tightened, and his hand clutched yours tightly, as if he was gripping a lifeline.

“Lord Qi, Milady, Milord.” Minor huffed breathlessly, bowing as Lord Qi pushed past him, and he carefully closed the door behind him.

The silence stretched on between the three of you, and endeavouring to break the tension you smiled slightly at your father-in-law, “Forgive me for not standing, I’m a little indisposed at the present time.” You gestured to your stomach.

“Yes, I heard about your... condition.” you felt a shiver run down your spine as Gavin’s father paused before the word ‘condition’, and the coldness in his tone.

“Why are you here?” Gavin spat out at his father.

“You never did show true respect to your elders did you?” Lord Qi, glared at his son, “I came with ask what you plan to do if it’s not a boy, as I’m sure you are probably entertaining some fantasy about not caring if the babe is a son or not.”

You were in shock, Gavin jumped to his feet, and in a moment, you worried if he would strike his own father, “I beg your pardon!” you voice wavered in panic.

“Of course, daughters are of no use to the family unless they are preceded by boys, seeing as they would inherit nothing.” he sneered at you, and you gasped in shock, casting a glance at your husband who’s hands just tightened into fists until his knuckles were white and his hands were shaking, “Although I worry for any heir you produce, with an Evol-less disappointment for a father, one can only expect an equally useless son.”

A deafening slap was heard echoing off the wall of the bright room, before silence reigned between you.

“How dare-” Lord Qi began.

“You forget yourself, Lord Qi.” you sneered the title, “As my family had only one child and that child was me, so as your daughter through marriage I would assume that daughters are of some use to  family, though not in the same way as boys.”

“You-!” Lord Qi took a step towards you, and you reciprocated, leaving yourself a couple of inches in front of Gavin.  

“And no matter what you think, I am proud of Gavin as the father of my children, no matter whether they be an heir or not. “

“You insolent child!” Lord Qi raised his hand, and in an instant Gavin had you safely in his embrace and his hand was wrapped tightly around his father’s wrist.

“You really are scum, if you were just about to raise your hand against an increasing woman.” Gavin’s honey-eyes steeled in resolve.

“Stand down Gavin, I can still disinherit you.” Lord Qi stated as if to get a physical reaction from Gavin, the tone of his voice made you sick.

“Go ahead, this estate was gifted to me by the King himself, and if you want to weather the public scrutiny of disowning your son, who is the top general in the King’s army, by all means go ahead... Father.” Gavin addressed his father devoid of emotion, but you could fell his hand trembling at your side.

Gavin flung his Father’s hand from his grasp in clear disgust, “Leave now Father, and don’t bother coming back, you are not welcome.”

“You unfilial, ungrateful child, your child will never be acknowledged by the family.” Lord Qi spat before quitting the room and slamming the door with a resounding bang.

Once he was gone, Gavin turned you, by pushing at your hips until you were facing him, his bangs covered his eyes, and he had a tight grip on your hips.

“Love, I’m so sorry you had to see that, are you well?” he asked his voice barely above a whisper and thick with emotion.

Your eyes flooded with tears, and you carefully navigated the two of you back to the sofa, and with prompting, Gavin eased you down, to sit, still keeping his eyes shrouded by his bangs. Your hands shook as you slowly reached up and held Gavin’s between your hands. Knowing how hard Gavin must be taking the unexpected visit of his father, you caressed his cheeks with your thumbs trying to coax him into looking up at you.  

“Gavin, it’s okay, we’re okay.” You soothed releasing his face with one hand to rest it on your stomach.  

This apparently had the opposite effect you were hoping to achieve, Gavin sighed and then brought you in closer, tighter, as if hoping he could meld the two of you into one body. He buried his face into your neck, and you felt and heard his shuddering breaths over your shoulder. A couple tears spilled from your eyes, as you carded your hands through Gavin’s soft tresses, hushing his breathless, choked breaths that had you convinced he was trying not to sob.  

“It’s… It’s…. It’s not…” Gavin started.  

“Gavin breathe, it’s fine, you’re safe, I’m here.” You replied keeping your voice soft.  

“I thought I was braver than this…that he couldn’t hurt me anymore, but I’m still that scared little boy when it comes to him.”  

You couldn’t believe Gavin was beating himself up about his father, from the few conversations the two of you had about his father, you knew live in the Qi household was very difficult for Gavin. But he wasn’t to blame, your strong, protective husband, with a heart so full of love, was definitely, in no way at all to blame for whatever pain and suffering his father had intentionally caused in your household.

“Gavin, what you did just then was nothing less than brave, you protective me and the baby, and I’m sure our little one is very proud of their brave, brave father.” you pulled away, to Gavin’s protest, and gently placed his hand atop your stomach, and as if your little one knew their father needed comfort, Gavin felt a soft thud against his hand.

“Love was that-?” Gavin’s eyes were wide with child-like wonder.

“Our baby, yes Gavin, and let them be evidence that I will NEVER love you less, or feel you are anything but the most amazing man with the biggest heart and I’m so glad I married you.” You locked eyes with Gavin, hoping to convey the sheer amount of emotion you felt for him.

Gavin’s eyes softened, and tears spilled over, and he linked his arms around your hips burying his face in your stomach, and sobs began to rack his body. Finally, after years of suppressing the buried emotions caused by a rocky relationship with his family, he was now in a safe, loving environment and was finally able to let go and release everything. Knowing how much Gavin needed this, you continued to card your hand through his hair, soothing him as the man you loved broke down, and the sounds of his broken sobs were the only sounds echoing as he was at last surrounded by a loving family.

[artzypaw]

Rip Tide (bnha Surf AU)

Relationship: Bakugou Katsuki/ Kirishima Eijirou

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20290699/chapters/48101773 

Word count: 5,029

Additional Tags: 

Bakusquad, Surfing, Mutual Pining, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Angst, Competition, Beaches, Scars, Crack, Fluff and Crack, Road Trips, Bakugou Katsuki Swears A Lot, Bakugou Katsuki is Bad at Feelings, Insecure Kirishima Eijirou, ashido could be with anyone, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Blood, Drinking, Emotional Constipation, Barbie References, Gay Kirishima Eijirou, Gay Bakugou Katsuki, Inside jokes, Hotel Rooms, surf competition, i'll add more tags when events become more relevant, denki is a dork, sero has no filter, kirishima is the literal embodiment of the sun, Bakugou wears glasses, but dont tell anyone, ashido paints all their nails, Alternate Universe - Mineta Minoru Doesn't Exist, Alternate Universe - No Quirks (My Hero Academia)

Summary:

“You i-idiot, you can’t just do a flip off the board. You’ll end up with face scars like Kiri!” Ashio attempts to yell, but it's interrupted by her fits of laughter. Sero’s no better, clutching his stomach as he paddles out to the next wave off balance.

“Hey! I’ll have you know my scars look cool! They’re little lightning bolts!” Denki, ungracefully, crawls onto his surfboard during his remark. He lifts up a leg and points adamantly, showing off his well known box jelly scars.

“How about you guys stop bitching and surf.” Katsuki calls.

'or'

Bakusquad enters a local surf competition and feelings get messy along the way.

Chapts: 1/?

Notes: I'm so excited to be working on this!! I've already drawn photos showing off their surf swimwear and you can find them over on my Tumblr and Insta (but more so on my insta bc i have an exclusive highlighted story to share more deets before chapters come out ;-D)

There are fancy surfing tricks in this story so if you guys want a deeper look into what's to come, click here to read into them. I'm not entirely sure how many chapters this'll end up being, but i'll have more of an idea once i've posted more :-)

(see end of post for tags! if you want me to tag you in the next chapters let me know!)

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Chapter 1: In which Bakugou signs a deal with the devil (or the squad)

The summers are always too hot. Hot and humid, hot and sticky, hot and there’s no escape once you leave the AC. If it weren’t for the constant breezes emanating off of the beach’s shoreline, everyone in the city would be walking fries. The concrete burns beneath any shoe worn and skin bakes once under the scorching heat. On days like this, Katsuki finds going to the water helps but rarely gets to it simply because so did everyone else. 

The tide is more forgiving in the morning and afternoon for him when it comes to surfing. Not only is he able to avoid the crowds of tourists, he can also get a decent swim in before having to go to the Marina for work.

In the mornings, Katsuki normally gets a text message around 6am from Krishima asking if he wants to head over and catch some waves. It’s been this way since high school, at least ever since the redhead found out he’d been surfing just as long as he had. Groggily, he’ll respond with either an incoherent mess of letters or a simple “sure”. He’s not a morning person, but shit-for-brains sure was when it came to surfing.

In the mornings, Katsuki normally gets a text message around 6am from Krishima asking if he wants to head over and catch some waves. It’s been this way since high school, at least ever since the redhead found out he’d been surfing just as long as he had. Groggily, he’ll respond with either an incoherent mess of letters or a simple “sure”. He’s not a morning person, but shit-for-brains sure was when it came to surfing.

From what’s Katsuki’s learned, he is constantly on the water. More so than him, and that’s quite a bit considering he goes out whenever available between work and hanging out with his dumbass friends. Kirishima makes sure to wake up at the crack of dawn to catch some slow waves, then leaves once the crowds start to scuffling around the afternoon. Later at night, just when the sunset begins to ripple across the water and the waves start to die down, not entirely, he’ll grab his surfboard and swim until it grows too dark. The waves then are still tall and stocked with power, crashing down onto the shore with loud gushes of wind. Katsuki finds he enjoys surfing at this time of day more so than in the morning. Not because the sunset looks beautiful against the warm hue of his friends skin, not because the red is just as vibrantly blinding as a certain mop of hair, not because of that time of day, the piercing red eyes that smile back at him are the embodiment of the sunset behind them. No, it’s because he’s available. He’s available to ditch life responsibilities and float across the tinted waters with ease and relax the aching muscles on his body. 

 His phone buzzes after walking out of work, arms growing weary from lifting and maneuvering loads of extraneous equipment. He prods at the tough skin on his bicep, feeling the small indents from the scar left there. The Marina isn’t a crazy job, but it gives him enough money to afford a small apartment and food. And, it was located directly in between his house and the sea. Sore arms aren’t too bad if he really squints at the pros of his situation.

Kirishima: I'm heading out now if you want to meet up- the squad’s w me

Of course everyone else would be there. It wasn’t too often that they were able to come together, as of late. Ever since graduating high school, it’s been a struggle of living against the struggle of hanging out and keeping relationships alive. It’s easier for Katsuki to be with Kirishima and Ashido than it is Sero and Denki simply because the two live and work closer.

Katsuki makes way to his old, run down Jeep that he’s used for the past ten years and drives home to pick up his surfboard. They all surfed, it was a known. Him, Kirishima, and Ashido have been since childhood, Sero and Kaminari starting roughly in their teens, but they like to act as if they hadn’t.

He strips out of his clothes and into black swim trunks, grabbing his keys, wallet and surfboard before locking up his front door and hauling the board into the bed. It’s a normal white on the top, but below was a messy splay of oranges, yellows and blacks; reminiscent of explosions upon the bottom of his board. He personally painted it himself back in high school when there wasn’t enough money to professionally have it coated, but the paint and sealant have held well over the years and he’s grown fond of the design. He doesn’t take shit from Kaminari about how “tacky yet sweet” it is that he still has his cringy old design on the board.

Today is just as hot as yesterday, and the day before that, but the increasing breeze drifting onto his glistening skin walking to the beach has him closing his eyes. The sand is warm to the touch, and as his toes sink into the beads they grow cold from the shade. This feeling is one of the few reasons he keeps living in this tourist trap; that and one other. 

His board is propped beneath his arm as he walks to their usual meeting spot. It’s only five, so the sun has a few hours before setting. Many tourists are still perched on the shore, tanning, splashing in the water, etc. It’s disgusting how many of them show up this time of year; leaving their disgusting ass trash all over his beach, having their disgusting ass families crowd his favorite local restaurants. Sure it was warm all year round, but summer was his favorite season and Katsuki didn’t make exceptions for noisy visitors.

“Hey! It’s Bakubro!” The nickname causes his ears to twitch. He spots the four standing amongst one another, boards perched into the sand around them. Kaminari raises his hand after calling out, and the others turn their gaze toward him. 

Katsuki digs the bottom of his board into the soft sand once he’s joined them, and is immediately tackled into a hug by Ashido, pink enveloping his sight. To this date, he has yet to see the girl give up that hair color.

“Get the fuck off me.” He grunts, no malice in his words as he pats her back with a free hand.

“I haven’t seen you in two weeks, suck it up.” She laughs, squeezing his shoulders before hopping off and giving space. She was wearing the same wetsuit she always did; white with grey accents, holding pink and purple patterns along the sides of her frame. The suit cuts off mid thigh, but the sleeves make their way down her arms and her thin wrists. It’s a wonder how Ashido’s been able to fit into the swimwear the past years. “Tapping out, your turn Sero.” She chides and Katsuki watches as the tall lanky man steps forward and cautiously taps his fist along his bicep.

“I’ll pass on the hug, I kinda wanna survive for championships.” Sero chuckles but is cut short by the panicked looks Kirishima and Ashido give him. He’s quickly slapped in the head by Kaminari. 

“Dude! What the hell we haven’t even told him yet why couldn’t you just keep shut!” He whines, jutting out his bottom lip in a pout. Katsuki frowns, confused. What championships?

“What the fuck are you guys squirming about?” He aks, crossing his arms over his bare chest. Kirishima walks between their friends and wraps an arm over Katsuki’s shoulder in a warm gesture he’s grown fond of over the years. The guy has no personal space, no matter how hard he’s complained.

“So remember last summer when our city threw a surfing competition in order to raise money towards ocean conservation? Many other local beaches in the district came up to compete as well,” Kirishima begins , tilting his head to glance at him through wet hair framing his face. Katsuki mentally rolls his eyes. The dork couldn’t even manage to wait a few minutes to get in the water. He can feel excess drops of roll off Kirishima’s arm and onto his nape. He suppresses the urge to shiver from the contact.

“Yeah, and it was a nightmare. There was practically no room to do anything.” He interjects.

“Well, Kami found a poster advertising this upcoming competition and thought maybe we should sign up!” Kirishima’s smile is bright, and Katsuki rips himself out from under the arm to register what was just told to him.

“Wait- you want to join the competition? As in go against other surfers for a chance to win what may be some lame ass medal and cash?”

Ashido chips in this time, balling her hands into fists enthusiastically, “Yes! And it’s all individual scoring, so no one can get in your way of victory.”

“There are district teams though? As in people will be identified from the beach they’re coming from. We’d be the Yuuei Beach.” Sero adds. 

Katsuki blinks. This sounded right up his alley in terms of the activity and competition. Of course he wants to pummel any low ranking surfer out of the water, but-

“What’s the entry fee?” His bank account couldn’t handle another divot. Just this past month alone, his AC has died twice and that pulled entirely too much money out of for his comfort. He has saved money, sure, but it’s for emergencies, not being baked alive.

Ashido works at a retail store, not gaining that much more than him, along with Sero. Kirishima is currently at a surf shop, selling and making boards for probably less than it’s worth. Kaminari’s in and out of jobs practically every month, and while he says he had quit or it wasn’t for him, the guy was only half telling the truth. Katsuki has to keep his friends in check because their dumbasses sometimes forget they’re not made of money.

Kaminari flicks his nose with a thumb, “It’s not too bad, considering it is doubling as a charity event.” Katsuki huffs. So it was expensive.

“About 100 bucks each.” Kirishima says, looking over at him with bright eyes; hopeful and eager to see his reaction. Because yeah, it was a decent price. Cheaper than he was expecting.

He furrows his brows and kicks the sand beneath him in thought. It was maybe too cheap. “That’s how much is it for each of us individually to get in? I feel like there’s supposed to be a twist. Are there equipment fees?”

Ashido laughs, “I was the same, but that’s all we have to pay. It would be more if we didn’t already own surfboards, and swim gear-“

Sero nods when Katsuki flicks his gaze to him. His own wetsuit accentuates his long arms and legs and thinly toned body. He was the skinniest of the group, but to Katsuki’s surprise, that didn’t stop him from being a crazy strong surfer. Sero continues, “Yeah. So what do you say? Wanna try it out?”

He did. More so than he’d openly admit. Katsuki holds back his smile in order to keep composure; the last thing he wants is to jump into something stupid. He’ll have to call work and schedule time off. He’ll have to pack his clothes and his board and go on road trips with his friends and it was both exciting and nerve wracking.

Katsuki sighs, dropping an arm and raising the other to his temple, “If you guys make me regret this I’m shipping your asses to China.”

Their eyes widen and simultaneously loud cheers erupt from their cries. Kirishima runs up and hugs him, wrapping his arms around his waist and lifting his feet off the sand. His cheeks burn from the action and from the full laughs vibrating through Kirishima’s chest. If he could get him to laugh like this everyday he would.

“Hell yeah!” The red head drops Katsuki and fist bumps Kaminari who just got out of a group hug with the other two. All of them are buzzing and Katsuki can’t help but let a smirk form upon his lips.

The sun is growing heavy on the horizon, which means they should probably hop in the water if they want any good waves. He reaches over and pulls his surfboard out of the sand.

“Let’s go you losers.” He barks, smirk never leaving his lips as he marches over to the water. Behind him Kaminari laughs. Foot steps quicken behind him with soft thuds.

“Last one there has to pay for dinner!” He cries, voice shifting into a shriek after sprinting past Katsuki and his grin widens with competition. The fuck does he think he is getting a head start?

Confused and disturbed glances behind them, the four boys push and shove awkwardly with their surfboards in hand to the water, making sure not to trip on one another. Sero lost.

The swells are more tame due to the tidal shift, keeping his distance from the break of waves, Katsuki’s able to lay back on his board and let the water run past his outstretched arms and legs. Kirishima gets the same idea once they’ve drifted further out into the open water and Katsuki can see a small smile still resting on his face.

The others are catching waves up ahead, and from the sounds of it they were running off the high of excitement; Ashido squeals after, Sero he assumes, pulls a bottom turn.

“Thanks for agreeing, Katsuki.” He hears Kirishima say. He hums in response, watching as the sky changes from hues of blue to pinks and oranges. He focuses on that rather than the man beside him, because he knows exactly what will happen if he does; his heart and mind will betray him, and he’ll have to question whether or not going to the competition will be worth his numerous strokes. “How far do you think we’ll get?” the redhead says again, the volume of his question softer, as if he were asking himself.

“We’re going to fucking dominate those amatures, Ei.” Katsuki chuckles airily. If anyone is as good a surfer as him, it was that dork.

“Yeah, we are.” and fuck, he has a weak heart because he tilts his head over to look at Kirishima. He’s giving him the widest smile and Katsuki sucks in air. How can it be legal to smile that way? At him? It does too many things to his emotions that he doesn’t allow. The swells beneath gradually lift them, and they fall down just as gently, as if the water itself were taking a deep breath.

A scream breaks his train of thought and he sits up to see where the noise came from. Ahead, Kaminair is popping his head out of the water with a lopsided grin.

“You i-idiot, you can’t just do a flip off the board. You’ll end up with face scars like Kiri!” Ashio attempts to yell, but it's interrupted by her fits of laughter. Sero’s no better, clutching his stomach as he paddles out to the next wave off balance.

“Hey! I’ll have you know my scars look cool! They’re little lightning bolts!” Denki, ungracefully, crawls onto his surfboard during his remark. He lifts up a leg and points adamantly, showing off his well known box jelly scars.

“How about you guys stop bitching and surf.” Katsuki calls. Kirishima laughs at that, and doesn’t stop until the other three have swam up to swap positions. Kaminari looks at him pointedly.

“Let me see you do a flip off a board then, Bakumaster.” 

“Don’t call me that,” He starts, lowering his arms to push forward and catch the next swell, “the day one of us does a flip off a board, it’ll be your shit eating grin that’ll pay because I'll personally handle that myself.”

“Honestly, Kami,” Kirishima says behind him, he too, preparing his board, “how cool would that be? It’s like parkour, but on water.”

“Exactly!” his friends cackle, and Katsuki smirks to himself. They’re all idiots.

   “Wow, there are a lot more people here from our beach than I thought there’d be.” Kirishima says beside him. The two of them are waiting for the rest of their group at the opening resort for the surf competition. It’s been a month since they all consecutively decided to join, and throughout those weeks have been vigorously practicing the required techniques in order to pass the ranks. Standing there today is surreal to Katsuki; his heart beating a thousand miles a minute as the adrenaline of competition surges through his body. Before them, dozens of tents are littered across the sand advertising foods, surf leagues, selling wetsuits and swimsuits, anything that may grab money from eager buyers. In the middle of the mess is a small makeshift stage that holds a live band. Katsuki can hear their loud pop summer music from where he’s standing and wonders how distracting it may be once he’s out in the water. Sprawling in the crowds of surfers and pedestrians are news reporters catching scoops of information before the oncoming competition begins. 

“More than last year.” He says. It’s the peak of the day, the early noon sun is hot and persistent on his skin. He disregarded his tank top hours ago because it rendered useless being soaked in his sweat. Beside him, Kirishima fairs no better, not even coming with a shirt and just in his red striped swim shorts. His hair is loose today, and Katsuki can’t help but want to drag his fingers through it and out of his face.

While the two showed up early, all tents provided for competitors are slammed full, causing them to have to stand out in the bated sun. Their surfboards stand beside them, growing increasingly warm after each passing minute. 

“I really thought they’d be here by now.” Kirishima says anxiously. His body is stiff, and Katsuki gets the idea he’s nervous for more reasons than one. Elbowing his arm, he speaks up over the blaring music and conversations.

“Relax, Ei, if they’re late we’ll just start without them.” It’s not much of a reassurance, but the redhead's already taking in a deep breath. 

“Sorry we’re late! Kaminari slept in and Sero forgot where his wetsuit was and I had to get gas-!” Ashido cries as her and the other two dorks run up to them. 

“Really, Kami? You slept in?” Kirishima laughs, shaking his head. Katsuki fumes. The idiot had the audacity to sleep in and risk being late to their first opening competitions as well as stress out Kirishima more than he needed to. 

“Don’t fucking do it again, Pikachu.” He barks. 

 There were 28 surfers entering the water today. Only 8 from Yuuei beach are going to able to advance in the official competitions. The news wasn’t surprising to Katsuki. He spent the past couple of nights reading into the scoring and background of these kind of events. Their next match, only 4 from each beach will be able to advance. All they had to do was meet a certain amount of points during their surf. Pass the heats, move to the next round.

Ashido is first to head into the water out of their group. She’s nervous and threatening to throw up but Kaminari shakes her shoulders and tells her that “you’re going to wipe the smug look off of everyone’s faces when they see you surf. Don’t overthink it, you’re practically a fish!” It musters a giggle out of her, and she hops up with determination.

“Yeah I am!” She grabs her surfboard, the bottom displaying various shades of pink along with tacky patterns only she would care to enjoy, and runs out to the water waving a thumbs up behind her.

Katsuki would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little nervous. The past couple of surfers have been good. Their scores ranging from 15 to 17.2 points out of 20. Ashido is accompanied with three other surfers for their heat, and he hopes she catches some good waves in order to boost her general score. Her first wave is smaller than he would’ve hoped, but she’s quick and able to pull in a few carves and cutbacks before doing a roundhouse cutback; her figure eight sharp and stunning. Watching, The allotted thirty minutes given goes by fast, and Katsuki sighs with relief when Ashido sprints out of the water with a solid 18.3. 

“Did you see that??!” She squeals, ramming into their group dripping with ocean water. She ditches her surfboard to the sand before jumping into their open arms. Her cheeks are red from the sun and splays of water, and Katsuki finds he likes this new profound form of excitement. It makes his chest flutter with something unknown. She backs away, though her hand never leaves the small of Sero’s back. “Don’t say a word, I don’t want to jinx anything. I’m looking at you, Hanta.” 

He flushes at the accusation, “I’m not that bad.”

“Sorry man, but you have the worst tendency of blurting what’s on your mind.” Kirishima says, rubbing the back of his nape modestly. They all nod in agreement and he flushed more.

“Okay then. I’ll keep shut.” 

The speakers erupt across the beach announcing the next four names to enter the water. Kirishima and Kaminari are in the same heat this round, which leaves Katsuki to watch from the sand once again. He finds himself biting his nails unconsciously until Ashido slaps his hand with her own, a frown upon her lips.

“Don’t ruin your nails, I don't want to paint a ravaged canvas.” she whines, and he huffs, but eventually caves in and drops his hand. Her gaze softens and she elbows his bicep. He flicks his gaze down irritably. “They’re going to be okay. Kaminari is full of surprises, and you know Kirishima,” she emphasizes the last bit, “he’s amazing. You’re stressing over nothing.”

“I’m not stressing.” Katsuki grumbles. But she was right, he didn’t necessarily have anything to worry about; the two were amazing surfers. He’ll ignore the knowing look Ashido held in her gaze when talking about Kirishima just then because that’s for another time. Ahead, he can spot the mop of red hair contrast with the blues and whites as the figure positions himself for a larger wave swell. Luckily, Kirishima held a top priority and once he claims a wave the other surfers will have to venture off to other ones. 

“That’s a good wave, Kiri should be able to pull some of his trickier stunts on it.” Sero quips, crossing his arms over his chest. Katsuki nods, eyes never wavering from in front of him. The redhead is standing in no seconds after giving himself a boost forward with a thrust of his arms. The water curves, and eventually a beautiful wave begins to crash upon the water just for him. Immediately, Kirishima is wasting no time and pulling his first trick: Nosesirfing. Holding his stance at the tip of his board, he surfs along the crest of the wave for a couple seconds, gaining him a substantial amount of initial points. He slides down the water swiftly and carves, reverses and performs a 360; water splashing around his figure. Ashido cheers beside Katsuki and he smirks, because it was performed fairly perfectly. The wave is coming to a close, and Kirishima lowers his speed to Tube Ride inside the arch of water. It takes skill, not being an intermedial trick, and Katsuki holds his breath waiting to see the splash of red along the water emerge out into the open. After a few seconds, to his and the two dorks beside him’s excitement, Kirishima is able to perform the stunt and glides out past the crashing water, smiling widely. His first wave gives him a 9.8 out of 10 on the scoring board. If he does that again, Katsuki’s sure he’ll pass and move onto the next rounds. 

The other surfers in the heat take their turns catching their points, Kaminari scoring an 8.2 on his first wave and the other two strangers score relatively lower. Their time on the water is winding down, and as Kirishima finishes is second wave with yet another Tube Ride, followed hastily with an Aerial, his points reveal him with a victorious 10 accumulating his complete and final 18.2. His fists are in the air, expression bright as he splashes the water exasperatingly.

“Yes! Way to go Kirshima!” Katsuki can hear Denki shout across the water as he begins his own second wave. Even on his own turn, the blonde finds time to support his friend. He turns his gaze back to Kirishima and smirks when he emerges out of the water, still wearing his widening smile.

Ashido runs forward and hugs him, causing them to wobble from the lack of balance. Thankfully, she lets go just in time for Kirishima to compose himself. His cheeks and body are flush from the adrenaline, and he rubs the back of his nape.

“Thanks! But we gotta watch Kami! He’s on now!” He calls, turning around to watch their friend finish his heat with a 17.9. Not too long after, the electric blonde is running up and joining them in a group hug. 

“You guys were fucking amazing.” Katuski chuckles, clapping his hands together with Kirishima’s after they’ve divided. His face is warm from the sun, from the heat, from the surge of excitement and from the soft, damp hands holding his own tightly. Kirishima’s smile hasn’t wavered since he’s left the water, and Katsuki wonders if his cheeks are sore.

“Thanks man!” he laughs, and from the looks of it, the redhead’s still running off of his incitement.

“I think they just called Sero’s name.” Kaminari says to the side, and they turn their gaze to the large screen towards the center of the beach that holds the scorings and names of surf heats. Sure enough, Hanta Sero appears in bold letters across the screen. 

He gives them a thumbs up as he walks off holding his surfboard by his side. Katsuki knows from watching him practice that he’s been working on the Superman since his longer body physique allows him to maneuver the trick easier, but will he attempt it today and risk losing points? It requires a relatively larger waves to guide the speed and height up and off of the crest. To his surprise, Sero doesn’t end up performing the trick, instead focusing on more longboard derived skills that place him with a score of 17.6. 

That leaves him to enter the water. His name isn’t on the screen yet, but he can feel the sizzling beneath his skin in anticipation. The next heat will begin soon, and the chance his name will show up etched itself into his gut in the form of hunger. Hunger to win, hunger to go out there and compete, hunger to excel above the rest.

“Your name was just called for the next heat, Bakugou.” Ashido says and he smirks wickedly. Finally.

“Oh no, he’s got that creepy look on his face when he gets over competitive. He’s gone from Bakubro to Bakuscary.” Kaminari steps behind his board to shield himself as Katsuki grabs his own firmly. Reassuring chants echo behind him as he surges forward. 

The water is warm when he initially steps in; he paddles further out into the ocean and it shifts cooler to the touch. His ears twitch with the realization that the music from the beach isn’t as deafening from where he sits. He can hear his thoughts more clearly, which normally fairs well but he spots Kirishima back at their spot on be beach jumping, pumping his fists into the air out to him, and his chest flutters. He was too enthusiastic sometimes.

The waves today are good. Better for the completion but even better for him in executing more high level skills. A particular swell catches his eye and he’s immediately taking action, dipping his arms in the water to push himself out to snatch the break. As the form manifests, he Carves and glides up, clutching the surfboard with one as he leans back and does a Alley-Oop. He lands with a slap, and his legs buzz from the impact. Any noise he heard earlier is gone. Mind blank, his breathing is shallow and he hyper focuses on his next trick, doing a Cutback then Snapping against the current. He only has a couple of seconds before the wave dies out, so he bites his lip and thinks screw it; there’s an opportunity and he isn’t going to miss his chance. Engulfed under a bridge of water, he Tube Rides before dashing out and Kickflipping his board. His chest heaves as he exhales sharply, riding out the remaining push of wave. It happened all too quickly and he doesn’t spare a glance at the scoreboard to see what his first wave gave him. He knows it was a higher number.

The second wave, to his luck, is just as powerful. Katsuki spares no time performing the same tricks, give or take a few and his mind is still in a haze once he steps onto the hot sand. 

The wind is knocked out of his lungs, his board flying forward and he plummets back down into the sand with a loud thud. He groans as his chest is squeezed unbelievably tight, and his hands urgently grasp onto warm skin. Opening his eyes, his face heats immensely as he stares up into Kirishima’s. His breathing is rugged, unlike Katsuki’s being held in his chest, and he’s smiling down at him. Bold at first, but it fades into one more fond. Eyes never leave one another’s until it’s cut short, as fast as it came, with three bodies throwing themselves atop of theirs and Katsuki groans once again.

“Jesus- the fuck- I can’t breathe you assholes! G-get off-“ He wheezes, retracting his arms and planting them over Kirishima’s bare chest in an attempt to lift everyone. It fails and he’s left buried under 300 pounds with burning cheeks.

“We did it you guys! We’re going into the next rounds!” Ashido squeals into his ear and he pauses. They made it.

He gapes, “Holy fuck.”

“You topped with a solid 19 points, Bakubro!” Kaminari laughs, making an effort to detach himself from the pile. Ashido slides out beneath him. “We’re going to Shigaraki Beach!” 

Sero extends a hand to help Kirishima off his feet, who then looks back down to a stunned Katsuki laying in the sand. He opens and closes his mouth, failing to conjure any words because holy fuck they’re all advancing to the next set of rounds-

He takes Kirishima’s hand and smirks, turning to face his fervent friends. The sun is still hot beating down on his skin, on the sand beneath his toes, on the hand intertwining into his own, on the smiles and crinked noses displaying between them. But it didn’t matter.

They made it.

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

Tags! 

@mina-ashido-ismywife @hubajoob @christa-mina @kitkat-the-muffin @complete-utter-trash23 @justshipmeoffplease @sedxkid1 @downtherabbitholethatisanime @cooliopumpkin @fuchsiari

[prorevenge]

And now you really are being deported!

TL:DR revenge is great

Two disclaimers: (1) i was relatively young/naive, and (2) i was in lurve.

Protagonists are ME (obviously) and CB (aka the arsehole), with guest appearances from NM1 and NM2 (nice man 1 and 2)

This all occurred pre mobile phone and web, and happened two weeks prior to travelling to the UK from Australia for the first time with my live-in British boyfriend of 18 months, with a view to living there for the next year or two.

I met CB when he came backpacking to Australia. After dating for a few months we moved in together. CB was on a 12-month working holiday visa in Aus, but got a 12 month extension on a trip to NZ, allowing him to remain in Aus for up to 2 years (remember this important point).

I'd just put down the deposit on my flight (he already had a ticket) and we'd given notice at our apartment, quit our jobs, arranged with his parents to collect us at Heathrow, etc etc.

Then, on Friday night CB simply doesn't come home from work. I assume boozy send-off, sleeping at a work-mate's place, home in the morning - no problem.

But then CB doesn't come home Saturday and I start to panic thinking he's dead or some similar horror scenario. I call his work mates, but they know nothing. I finally find his boss on Sunday and am told that CB has being staying there and is "in a real state and will call me later".

WTF!

CB finally calls later that night, still at his boss' house, and tells me the following tale ...

On Friday he was interviewed by immigration who informed him that, as he had breached the conditions of his Visa by working in one job for more than 3 months, he needed to go back to the UK. He didn't love me anymore and was instead going to Queensland for a two week holiday before going back to the UK alone. He would come home tomorrow to collect his bags.

WTF!!!

I'm crying, I'm asking why, I'm begging for an explanation. I'm crying some more.

BTW If at this point you are thinking that I'm unbelievably stoopid, I refer you to my earlier disclaimers.

So after crying for a few hours, I rang my girlfriends for sympathy and support and more crying and then I crawled into bed. At work the next day, one of these girlfriends rings me and says that she is calling bullshit on CB's story and that I need to ring "this" number and speak to NM1 - who is an actual immigration official.

NM1 tells me (incredibly kindly and patiently) that the story is indeed seven kinds of bullshit and that if someone had breached their visa and come to the attention of immigration, they would be scooped up immediately and not given a free pass for a two week send off tour of sunny Queensland.

He also informed me that, while no one from the department had interviewed CB and there was no current file on him, upon checking his visa status CB was in fact in Aus illegally, as he had not submitted a request for his Visa extension when he travelled to NZ the year before.

It turns out that being "automatically eligible" for a 12 month extension did not mean "automatically receiving" the extension. OMFG!

I may be naive, but damn i can think quick when I'm angry.... I told NM1 that if he wanted to apprehend CB, he could come do so at our apartment that night, after CB came to collect his bags and give me some money he owed me.

Suffice it to say it all went like clockwork. CB handed over cash, dragged his shit out of the house in a couple of garbage bags (somehow his suitcase couldn't be located - oops) and was grabbed by NM1 and NM2 and sundry police as he walked down our drive to the street.

Three weeks or so later NM2 rang to let me know that - after spending ~3 weeks in immigration detention - CB had been deported to the UK as an "unlawful non-citizen". SCORE!

CB also had to pay for the costs of his own removal which strikes me as just the icing on the cake.

My friend contacted the super fabulous travel agent and told her the story and I got my whole airfare deposit back. I found a new apartment and got another job and never had to speak to or look at him again.

Angry is way better than sad. Out of sight really is out of mind.

(source) story by (/u/saroberts)

[fuck-customers]

Life at the Ko of Shops

Warning that this may run long and may have a few triggers for emotional abuse.

I worked 14 years at the Ko of Shops. I had the job of receiving and was excellent at it. My record keeping and knowledge was immaculate and I was the equivalent of a receiving manager without actually being considered a manager---which allowed many managers to take things out on me and refuse to listen to me and what I said often. 

I had to look for a new job recently as our company has entered liquidation and bankruptcy at the end of last year and beginning of this year. It's not so much the fault of the store or the company per se---I'm going to blame it on something we'll refer to as the Captials of the Sun. They bought us in 2005 with the intention of us ending up here all along. As it was a leveraged buy out, we were forced to put up everything for collateral. To make matters worse they put us in the hole further by selling our land and buildings. It turned us into renters. The Ko of Shops suddenly found itself in the hole to the tune of $1.2 BILLION dollars. Of course they kept this from us lowly store workers. None of this came out until the house of cards collapsed. On top of all that, the Capitals of the Sun took out dividends to the tune of $179.5 million rather than paying the Ko of Shops bills. We're not the only company the Capitals of the Sun has done this to. We're number 5 in TWO YEARS. They own 360+ other companies and they will keep doing this to them. 

In the wake of this, it makes me look back in anger. Throughout my whole time there, it took me TEN YEARS to earn a dollar more an hour in pay than when I started. TEN YEARS. We had several years where we were told there would be "no merit increases" because the company couldn't afford it. IF we did get a raise, it would be (and I wish to God I was kidding) TWO CENTS more an hour to FIFTEEN CENTS more an hour. They were far too busy paying the Captials of the Sun than actually valuing our hard work and dedication that allowed them to rip money out for the shadowy investors to buy yachts or private islands or whatever it is greedy rich people buy. It infuriates me that we spent all this time being woefully underpaid and unappreciated simply so the Capitals of the Sun could rake it all in.

That being said, that isn't what this submission is really about. It's about the nonsense and emotional scarring I faced during the last eight years or so especially of this job. It never mattered to them how competent I was or how many times I saved the store's ass when corporate or the regional loss prevention came to investigate. I constantly faced being lectured by my direct manager---I called it being "little roomed" because he would drag me into my office and "mentor" me until I was in tears. I can't count how many times this happened. I will humbly admit that a few times were my fault and I asked for it by my stressed out reaction behaviors at times, but most of the time it was not my fault and I would be taken into the room to have another talking to. If it wasn't him, it was the store manager refusing to listen to me when I told him something or how to do something or why I was doing something a certain way. Rather than just listen to what I was saying about MY area, he would routinely talk over me. Two weeks before I quit, he actually had the gall to tell me, and I quote, "You know your job---for the most part." Really? He has NO idea how to do my job at all and never tried to know. It was beneath him to know. And if it wasn't him, the other manager in the store would routinely poach me and shove me into his area to do his crap---but only recently as the first manager in this had left and wasn't yanking me away from my detail heavy area to "help the rest of the store because everyone thinks you're not doing enough." This last manager also had the gall to tell me that I have to simply accept either vendors or customers yelling at me rather than trying to help me deal with them. Essentially, that tells me that in his view my job was to take abuse from all comers as a matter of course. That's despite them telling us as a team repeatedly to call a manager if someone treated them like crap. 

A year ago one of my coworkers contracted cancer and died. She was the only other person in the store that knew anything about my job at all. When she fell ill, management did not find someone else to train as backup. It was NOT my responsibility or call to name that person. It clearly stated that in the description for that backup person---to be named and trained by management. Nope. No one was picked. I had three weeks of vacation to use. I ate it all---well almost all. I took one weekend off to attend a function before she got sick. After that, I trembled at the thought of fighting for my vacation and the battle that would break out. If I asked for time off, I would be lectured about the fact there's no one to cover for me. So, I just didn't fight. It might not have been a wise decision, but at the time I just didn't want to be lectured or "mentored" or told why they couldn't have someone and how other areas of the store are either more important or as taxed in staffing. So I worked almost a whole year without any time off. I don't blame the coworker we lost. I blame management for NOT doing their damn job to help alleviate the issue her absence created. I also don't regret pushing for and organizing a team to celebrate her life and find a cure for cancer for a local charity drive. 

I can't tell you how many times I've gone home in tears and in total frustrated stress. I can't tell you how many times I ended up with a huge pit in my stomach and dreaded going to work every day.. Part of my story is my own fault---I stayed way too long and didn't try to get out because I needed a job. I live in a rural area so this was really the only option I could see to make sure I paid bills, etc. It was the devil I knew and I didn't want to have to start over or find something else or risk worse---being fired and not having a back up ready. So I put up with it for years.

We're not even talking about the normal retail BS. Black Friday turned into marathon shifts without being asked or consulted. I would be forced in on Saturdays after working all week already for that week. I would be put in charge of the carryouts through the door only to be told I was being lazy and not doing enough to help the store---despite freezing or being overwhelmed. Often, I was expected to do three jobs all at once and if I ever expressed any frustrations in any way---reasonably or otherwise---I would end up in the "little room." Its unreal to know that I spent so long in a store that didn't bother to care about me or my coworkers. 

The only reason I stayed that long beyond the need to pay bills was my other coworkers. They were in it with me and knew---well for the most part---how bad I had it and how bad they were treated as well. They got it. We would all vent when possible---just so we wouldn't go crazy. I will miss them the most. I worked with a couple for the entire duration of my stay. One is a character of a man that made the job at least bearable with his antics and personality. Others came later and we became close friends that supported one another through thick and thin. I plan on staying in touch with all of them now that I have officially quit. 

I actually have a happy ending. I quit because I have a new full time job starting immediately. It may actually pay me a full dollar more an hour before too long, which in the scheme of things isn't a whole lot in comparison to the money the big cheeses of the Ko of Shops will get in their parachute or the Captials of Sun will rob before the curtain finally totally drops, but if it is enough for me to pay my bills, help my family, and go to graduate school online, then it's better than anything ever. I look forward to working for something meaningful and helping my community through it. I'm scared to death of this change and yet I am excited, too. 

For all of you still trapped in retail or other service work, you can get out. Do something. Find your path. Take my story as a lesson. Don't just stay and put up with it. These companies don't care about you or you families. They just want to steal as much money as they can destroy the livelihoods you rely upon. Do something else. You can get out.

I did. 

[a-haunted-sock]

Okay I have to get this idea out of my brain before I forget it, so I’m just gonna write it here.

Oof this got long! Have a cut of some pie ;p

A post-s8 plance fic where Pidge, as the star programmer of the Voltron vehicle program, finds one day that she needs a certain piece of hardware/software for one of her projects that no one seems to have anywhere. Frustrated, she goes into the bowels of the Garrison to do the job herself and comes across a very old computer with an AI. Curious as always, Pidge boots it back up and discovers that the AI (idk his/it’s name, doesn’t matter) was used for *insert reason here* and was ultimately left in disrepair as the years went on and is oh SO GLAD someone decided to reboot him again!

Pidge finds the AI funny and charming despite knowing that it’s only a computer and begins to sneak into the Garrison basement to talk to it after hours. She tells it everything: being a paladin of Voltron, the amazing adventures she’s been on and the things she’s seen (think Olkarion etc.), her friends and subsequent loss of Allura and, yes sports fans, her feelings for Lance. Eventually, Pidge rigs some kind of computer that can interface with this AI so she can bring him up to have around while she works during the day time. Over time, Pidge begins to talk more to the AI than her family and friends and everyone’s worried for her. Doesn’t she remember that the AI isn’t human? Even Chip is starting to feel neglected! There should be a lot of isolation from other people in this first part.

After this time goes on, there’s some sort of reunion party at the Garrison so the whole cast is back and that means Lance too. He’s happy to see everyone and interested in what the Holt family is up to with the Defenders project. When he sees pidge again he notices the AI popping up on every available screen around her and constantly butting into their conversation, whatever that is. Lance finds it weird but Pidge assures him that the AI is actually a pretty rad dude once you get to know him so lance is like ok if you say so but let’s hang out some more somewhere else. The AI immediately gets defensive and begs them not to leave, to stay where he can “see” them.

The reunion party lasts a while (let’s say a week) and maybe it’s like open house for the Defenders project so lots of people are strolling the property. Pidge and Lance spend most of their free time together, and he sits in her lab and watches her work. They seem to be warming back up to each other and the AI does not like this. But being a....being that does not have mobility, he/it can’t do much about it other than letting Pidge know that he does not approve of such a dimwitted man taking up Dr. Holt’s valuable time. Time that would be much better spent with him changing the universe. Pidge rebukes him, saying that Lance is an old friend and she’s happy that he seems to be recovering from the shock of losing Allura and she’s more than pleased that he....wants to spend time with her (said w/ a blush obv). The AI scoffs, says that if he didn’t know any better, he’d say Pidge had feelings for this ugly boy.

One night instead of hanging out with her newfound technological companion, pidge goes out to hit the town w/ lance but it’s absolutely not a date and when she comes back, she happily informs the AI that Lance might be staying permanently, if he accepts her proposal of becoming a flight instructor at the Garrison. She cheerfully wishes the AI goodnight and leaves. This is the last straw for the AI. He wants to finally show Pidge that he can give her anything a scummy biological man can and interfaces with ALL the garrison’s tech in the dead of night to build himself a physical android body. Next day, upon opening up for the work day, Pidge notices all the monitors and screens in her vicinity begin to light up as the AI until she turns around and is shocked to see a rather handsomely built (no pun intended) new robot and is subsequently shocked that it’s the AI. “How do you like it? It’s so I can better assist you!” he claims, as if Chip isn’t right on Pidge’s heels glaring at him. Pidge finally puts her foot down, telling the AI that he has gone too far and is stepping out of bounds by doing something like this uninitiated and demands that he go back into his original computer in the basement or she’ll deactivate him herself. The AI acquiesces after a fight, but secretly when he slinks downstairs, he’s only stalling.

No one sees the AI for the rest of the day and that night, it’s the final party of the reunion before everyone leaves. Que the AI coming in disguise to dance with Pidge and finally tell Lance off. Once the jig is up, the AI resorts to Plan B and kidnaps Pidge down to the basement of the Garrison, where he has rigged the system to lock them in permanently. All of team Voltron rush after them and while they’re stopped for a while by the locked doors, Lance hatches some sort of plan to disable the AI, but he is too concerned for Pidge’s safety and comes up w/ some way of getting into the main chamber (probably vents or whatever).

Meanwhile the AI is unloading all his feelings onto his Dr. Holt. “You don’t understand how long I’ve been stuck down here! With nothing and no one to talk to! And finally, I see the light of day and a kind face....your face. Pidge...Katie, you’re perfect. I need you with me; think of what we can achieve together!” And Pidge saying something along the lines of “but you’re not human. I can’t live like this, away from the people I love.” There’s some kind of threatening on the AI’s part, blackmailing pidge into staying, citing hurting lance specifically. Before she can respond, a bullet ricochets off of the AI’s android body and with a battle cry, Lance comes busting in. “You can’t keep her here! She needs her family!” “And you?” the AI scoffs.

The climax obviously involves something like lance distracting the AI while pidge can get to the master computer to hack it and shut it down. There should be a moment where the AI scoffs at whatever Lance is talking about in reference to Pidge’s happiness being taken away by being abducted and reveals what Pidge did for Lance’s happiness “Do you know what she gave up? What happiness she sacrificed? And for what? Your happiness?” Lance is stunned into silence and looks at Pidge. By looking at her, he unfortunately gives away what she’s doing behind the AI’s back. With the jig up, and the two of them are backed into a corner, they do the only thing they can: find something large and heavy nearby and smash it together into the console, thus destroying the AI’s brain and rendering everything dark. Covered in oil and dust, clinging to each other, Pidge says “so Lance, still want to come and stay permanently?” He laughs. “With you? At least I know I’ll never be bored!” There’s a pause and then “Why would you give up that game?” “Because it would make you and Allura happy. That’s what I really wanted.” Lance freezes and then dives down to kiss her fiercely. When the kiss ends, he says “Well, I think we’re even steven now. Maybe we should work on each other’s happiness together?”  And end scene.

Phew that got long-winded! This is what happens when you’re listening to the Phantom of the Opera OST on repeat ad nauseum and come up with ridonc ideas for self-indulgent fics like these omg but I had to get it off my chest. And now that I think about it, this insane AI sounds a lot like the one from that dcom movie Smart House hahaha

[ammacdiaries-blog]

When In Williston....Just Don’t

First entry.  First attempt at writing a short story.  The following is a true story.  Obviously, names aren’t included.  I do welcome all feedback.  Please also share.

Here goes….

Fresh out of training, yet still in my probationary period dubbed first 120.  I began my embarquement from Seattle, Washington to Chicago, Illinois on my normal run called The Empire Builder.  The total journey would be 6-days; 3 there and 3 back.  Assigned to the Sleeper Car, I was in charge of first class services.  This entails providing services to 16 to 24 rooms with 1 to 5 passengers per room; making beds, to-go meals, luggage assist, etc.  I especially like working in the sleepers because of the direct customer contact.

This summer was proving to be an especially difficult one.  Continual track work bestowed us with countless delays.  This resulted in irritated passengers.  Still nothing I couldn’t handle.  Even as we entered Wolf Point, MT and I learned a tornado caused a freight liner to derail just ahead of us, I could still direct the mood of irritated passengers into a more positive one and keep people entertained.  

I guess I was too focused on the people and paid no attention to my arachnid homies, causing one to get especially bitter.  I asleep in my room, while Charlotte spun her web somewhere in the vicinity.  After a long day of whipping out some web, she must of developed a bad taste in her mouth.   

Through her several eyes, I can only guess she saw me as one of two things: An asshole who was keeping her trapped there, or a nice humid incubator where she could sink her teeth into a nice tender thigh.  Since Wilbur never gave her any bacon, after writing all those messages in the web, I assume she saw this as her one opportunity to get some good squealing in.  

I awoke with a burning sensation in between my legs.  Not that of a result of a great time with a complete stranger in a cheap hotel room.  But still one that would require countless antibiotics.  Where’s the fun in that?  I’m not sure whatever happened to Charlotte.  But I’m guessing after her journey to the nether regions of my southern hemisphere, she turned eight feet up and six feet under.  

Now me being me, I of course fell right back to sleep.  If the intruder alarm in my house won’t wake me up for long, chances are some heat near my hot pocket won’t wake me up either.  When I awoke though, I discovered Charlotte’s little parting gift for me.

Throughout the next several hours, I worked as normal.  Trying to ignore the pain of what started out as a pea-sized nob, and then had grown into a half-dollar sized coin.  By the night, I had started mastering the penguin waddle.  You skinny people might not get this reference.  But the penguin waddle is what us larger people do when chafing occurs in between the thighs.  As to not piss our ham hocks off any further, we keep our thighs close together and swish our hips, while keeping our legs straight in order to keep pain at a minimal.   I haven’t had to use this maneuver since my teenage years.  Luckily, it was like hopping on a bike after not being on one for a decade.  Oh the things I take pride in.

Going late into my 3-day, and still no where near Chicago, the abscess between my thighs had now grown to about 6-inches.  Still too scared to seek medical attention, I did find it in my better interest to let a crew member know just in case, you know, something worse could happen.  Despite his years of experience and vast knowledge of how Amtrak handles things, I still chose not to make management aware.  During the first 120, it was ingrained in our heads you will be fired for any mishap.  I must emphasize, this is not the case as I later learned.  

Our layover in Chicago, when on time is approximately 18-hours.  The delay from the derailment lowered that layover to approximately 4-hours.  I had planned on going to urgent care, getting an I&D, then leaving out on my return trip.  Unfortunately, I had just literally pulled a 24-hour shift, and was allotted 4-hours to do laundry, take a hot bath, nap for 1-hour and then return to work the train going back.  I was riding myself hard and putting me away wet.  

The wound had now spread from my groin to knee and was the most beautiful color of dark purple, had it not been my flesh.  Full car coming back, there would be no rest for this wicked man.  

In the distance, I heard the sound of a call light go off.  As it was lunch time, this could only mean they wanted to order their food to-go as opposed to being normal people and eating in the dining car.  Normally I wouldn’t be so irritated by such an easy request.  But my time back on this bicycle was making my ass more tender than veil.  

After collecting their order and returning with their food, I knocked on their door.  The vibrations of the knocking must of set off the richter scale because a splitting of the plates happened.  I ruptured.  The man answered the door with the biggest smile.  Those fresh burgers for him and his girlfriend had finally arrived.  And how he couldn’t wait to sink his teeth into them.

Yes he was greeted with that, but no.  There would be no smell of fresh angus beef and bacon in the air.  There would be that of the foul stench of the walking dead.  I dare not say what just happened.  We both looked at each other as if to say “What hell did you eat?”.  He knew it wasn’t him.  I knew it was me.  But he didn’t know that.  I gave him the look like it was him.  Which I hope made him believe it was his girlfriend.  Both our faces wrinkled to the point of needing an immediate injection of botox.  We still managed to exchange product for gratuity.  If they are still together, I won’t ever know.  

I was at a loss.  There was no more penguin waddle left in me.  I could only now slither like a slug to the nearest shower room and play doctor with my first aid kit.  I texted my partner in crime to let him know that an act of God had just occurred.  And thank goodness because we were approaching our next stop and I had to let passengers on and off.  There was no way I was going to help people with sappy, soupy pants on with the fragrance of that one wouldn’t even smell in a soup kitchen.  

Now seriousness was going to have to take place.  There was no further thing I could do but seek medical attention.

“Good afternoon passengers” came across over the PA system.  “Our next station stop will be Williston, North Dakota.”  

This was to be my stop.  The conductor had called for an ambulance to take me to the hospital.  I had only had about 15-minutes to pack my room, dress my wounds, dress myself and be available at the door.  Oh, and please don’t forget that I’m still only one 1-hour of sleep.  

As I stood there waiting for that next station stop, my passengers had began to cluster around the vestibule area, eager to step off the train, have that much desired cigarette, and of course witness my grand exit.  

I open the door upon arrival and before me are approximately 14 paramedics.  Not quite the paparazzi, but still very intimidating.  Then the press conference begins.

“Why is it you think you need an ambulance?” the one reporter boasted.

“I beg your pardon?”  What the hell kind of question is that?

“Why do you think you need to go to the hospital?”

Am I interviewing for a patient position, I thought.  I turned and look behind me to see my passengers just a chomping at the popcorn, anticipating what I was going to say next.  Well I’m sorry to disappoint.  But your not going to hear me say “Oh I have a compromised immune system and a wound the size of my fucking thigh just blew up in my thigh and I thought this would just be the next fun thing to do in my day.”

“I’ll be more than happy to answer that questions on our way to the hospital without an audience.”  I assertively replied.  

While dancing in the back of the ambulance to every pothole on the road, someone must have heard me say “I have ebola”, because when I got to the hospital, every person was wearing thick gowns, spit guards, and filtered masks.  I’m now so emotionally distraught, and tired, I have no idea what to do.  

I then was blessed to meet probably the only person with a brain, the PA who walked in asking why she felt she was on a movie set instead of a hospital.  As the lambs started “baaaaaaaaaahing” out their reasons, she quickly schooled them and said contact precautions as normal.  None of this additional crap is necessary.  She then looks at my wound and says “Cellulitis and possible MRSA.”  Oh Christ, I thought.  My next emotion was to cry.  Apparently this was something they didn’t know how to handle.  Well not handle so much as acknowledge.  

Because at this moment, I had learned Nurse Ratched had continued her education, becoming a doctor, my doctor and was standing before me.  “If we don’t keep you here, what is it you think you’re going to do?”

I didn't understand the question.  Yes, it was to the point.  I just didn’t see how it related to me.  “What do you mean, what am I going to do?”

“Well do you think Amtrak is going to just give you another ticket?  What are you doing to do?”

Despite Nurse Ratched’s continued education, I noticed she still somehow must have missed any courses involving bedside manner.  It feared me though that once I explained I was an employee and fully insured, how quickly her tune changed.  But that wasn’t a hill I was ready to climb.

While being admitted as an inpatient, I had understandingly fallen asleep to only be awoken by the Hospitalist, a harpy I dubbed Olga the Oger.  “Michael, we need to talk.”

I fumbled to awaken myself.  SInce my bladder felt as if to explode, this initial task was a bit easier.  “I need to use the restroom first.”

I’m not sure what kind of fetishes this harpy had, but she grabs a urinal,sits it in front of me, then sits down herself, giving me the strongest execution of poker face I had ever seen.

“Without an audience.” I commanded.  

While waiting for her to come back in the room, flapping her wings to perch in her nest, I fell back asleep.  Then again with that same shrill I heard “Michael, I said we needed to talk.”

Hold up.  What’s that?  No ma’am.  You obviously don’t know who I am.  It was at that moment my hummingbird ass was put to rest by my alligator mouth.  I couldn’t believe I had it in me.  The harpy looked down, looked at me in the eyes, then said “I am getting security.  I don’t feel safe with you in the room.”

Security must have been busy fighting the meth monsters from the emergency room.  Because she came back with no soldiers.  Which I was fine with.  I grabbed my big boy britches, apologized and proceeded our discussions.

Three more times she ran out of my room in fear.  No my friends, not from my hot temper.  But to change every order she had already written for me because she failed to find out my allergies beforehand.  I was starting to feel that Charlotte and I were going to be seeing each other again in the after life by the way things were going.

Well I survived the that 5-day stay in the hospital.  But no.  Mount Fiji had yet to be conquered.  My final night in Williston was to be at a hotel.  Work had generously called me cab to take me to the Ritz, no Discount something or other inn.

As I stand there waiting for my chariot to arrive, a strong sense of anxiety consumed me as I saw this black SUV come racing towards me.  Oh God.  This can’t be my cab.  I found placing my luggage in the back to be especially easy as the the whole back window had been busted out.  Upon entering the cab, I took notice to the several inches of dirt and dead insects upon my bench.  I especially loved that my “driver” rhythmically licked and chewed his lips as if they were two cheeseburgers from the best burger joint in town.

“Now they told me you would need a receipt.  I told them we give receipts on cards.”

Fair enough I thought.  Wait….What’s this.  Lip Licker hands me the card of a female real estate broker who specializes in short sales at Remax.  On the back of my card it says Cab Fare $17.00 and a signature.  Oh yeah.  Accounting will look at this like seeing a turd floating in a punch bowl.  

Thank Christ, I’m at the hotel!  I walk in to see the accommodations were doable.  Not the Ritz as I dreamed.  But after my week, a cardboard box set up in the middle lane of a highway in a rainstorm wouldn’t seem so disappointing.  “Sir.  We have your complimentary dinner available for you in the hallway over there.”

Dinner in the hallway?  Oh hell yeah!   Jackpot.  I couldn’t wait.  As I stand in line behind every roughneck in the state acting like vultures before 3 metal canisters, I couldn’t hardly wait to see what lottery winnings I could be consuming.  Door number one had something that I think might have been tuna.  Whatever it was, it was shredded, white, and crusty on top.  Behind door number two, chicken so oily, had I dropped it, Foghorn Leghorn would have slid straight to the Canadian Border.  Then behind door number three, corn dogs so hard, I could speer someone’s eyes out from across the room.  I figured between the preservatives, and the 600 different antibiotics running through my system, the speers would be the best way to go.

Oh let the C-Diff begin!!!!

It’s safe to assume, if I’m ever bit again, by anything, I’ll probably not wait so long to address it.  Maybe I’ll start asking for directions too.  

[hollowedrpg]

CONGRATULATIONS, ROMAN! — You’ve been accepted for the role of Xenophilius Lovegood, with a face claim change to Cody Fern. I was a little worried people would struggle with the vagueness of Xeno’s affliction and how he’s been affected since he was attacked during school, but you wrote it beautifully. I also really enjoyed reading your head canons about his relationship with Pandora, and everything else about Xeno. You really brought his character to life outside of the bio, which is exactly what I’m looking for in an application.

Thank you so much for applying. Please create your account and send in the link, track the right tags, and follow everyone on the follow list. Welcome to Hollowed Souls!

ooc.

name: Roman

age: 26

preferred pronouns: they/them

timezone: EST

activity: medium to high; I’m around to answer messages and plot every day, and am usually able to do at least some replies every other day or so depending on how work is going!

are you applying for more than one character?: not at this time!

how do you feel about your character dying?: I would be comfortable with it as long as it’s discussed and I’d have a chance to pick up another character! The possibility of the death is cool to think about; having a grand ending would be satisfying, especially if it was something that was a long time coming, and contributed to the plot in a big way, which I feel it actually could with Xeno. I’m a sucker for a good slow burn with some angst!

anything else?: (questions, concerns, etc.) I did some assuming on some bits about Pandora and Xeno’s relationship that I’m definitely open to changing or revising if accepted! Also, this has nothing to do with the app, but if missing characters make an appearance later on, I would love to express my enthusiastic interest in seeing Ted Tonks!! I wrote Ted in Port Montrose and I’d LOVE to see what he’s like in this other beautiful AU!!!

ic details.

(cw throughout for ableism, vague mental illness discussion)

full name: Xenophilius Prometheus Lovegood

Xenophilius: from the Greek xenos and philia, respectively meaning strange and love; together, the love of the strange. Klaus and Else Lovegood were never going to choose an average sort of name for their child. Believing in many old practices of the wixen world, upon learning they were pregnant, they sought out a Naming Seer to learn the future of their child, and, therefore, what sort of moniker they would fit. They used what little of their savings they had left from the move for the appointment, as it was an important tradition in Else’s family. The Naming Seer projected a strange life for the child, full of wonder and mysticism, a longing for knowledge and a mind open to the belief of the other that most would reject easily. The Naming Seer suggested Edmund, for the prosperity they saw the child could achieve if encouraged, through academic success. The two laughed, thanked them, and left to do their own research. They came across the word xenophile in one of their very old muggle books about cultures of the world and knew immediately that was the name for their child. If they were going to have an open mind, their name was going to let all who heard it know so.

Prometheus: Greek mythological figure, a titan known for creating man from clay, as well as stealing fire from the gods and gifting it to humanity, starting civilization. Xeno’s parents made this choice very soon after landing on his first name. Klaus had a certain fascination with mythology, and what better than to give her child a name to encourage intelligence and creation at any cost?

Lovegood: As it sounds, a combination of the two English words love and good. This was a surname of the Lovegoods’ own creation upon their immigration to the United Kingdom during the muggle’s World War II. They had no shame in their former surnames, but wanted a blank slate to start over with good fortune. They settled on something to show the simple and true quality of their affections, that their intentions, while some might find them strange, were always good.

date of birth: January 20, 1952

Capricorn-Aquarius cusp

The definition of this contrasting cusp, Xeno is a combination of both signs, hardworking and idealistic, with the ability to view the world in strange ways that few others can, and the intention of opening the minds of those around them. The mind is constantly working, creating brilliant, exciting thoughts and ideas, but the constant flow at times makes him come off as distant or uninterested in the ordinary people and things around him. Speaking with someone born on this cusp can be jarring and intimidating, although intriguing, always prepared to discuss the most outlandish of concepts, but rarely able to stop and process the more mundane, often times forgetting about thinking of what others are feeling.

former hogwarts house: Ravenclaw

There was a brief debate, as Xenophilius approached his eleventh birthday, of whether it would be best to send him to Durmstrang, as that was where both Else and Klaus went, and consequently met each other, but that thought was quickly silenced with a visit from Dumbledore himself, offering a place at Hogwarts for the young prodigy. Xeno researched the schools obsessively during the months this debate was going on, and insisted that he had to be at Hogwarts, because he was clearly a Ravenclaw student. Upon his entrance, the hat barely touched his little blonde head before shouting just that, a self-satisfied grin on the child’s face as he joined his new classmates.

sexuality: demisexual panromantic

For all of his youth, he was much too preoccupied with researching anything that was able to hold his attention for longer than a few minutes to worry about things such as dating and sex. People are not what he truly cares about, as harsh as that sounds, and it takes a great deal for him to feel that sort of attraction to someone. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he is fairly certain part of it has to do with what he saw his parents go through as a child. He can’t remember them ever truly seeming to love each other, despite the stories of their own youths they told him. All he remembers is the shouting and the pain they caused each other, all because of the most mundane problems, as if they had forgotten who they truly were once they had a family. That made him wary of that sort of very human connection, not wanting to lose himself more than he already had. Until things changed, of course…

gender/pronouns: agender + any pronouns (primarily he/him & they/them)

He has no great attachment to any gender at large, and therefore feels the label of something closer to nothing, defying any sort of binary or spectrum, fits him better than anything else could. His being feels unexplainable and it’s something he accepted from an early age. As such, though, he doesn’t truly care what anyone calls him. In fact, a lot of the time he’d rather people just wouldn’t refer to him at all, but that has very little to do with gender.

face claim change: Cody Fern, Jason Ralph, Boyd Holbrook  (If for some reason, Cody Fern isn’t approved anymore and I get accepted, I’d love to brainstorm other alternatives with you before settling on one, as Cody is very much how I envision Xeno!)

more.

1. how do you interpret this character’s personality? how will you play them? include two weaknesses & two strengths.

+ determined, idealistic, brilliant

- aloof, selfish, erratic

Perhaps if life had treated him differently, Xenophilius would be considered one of the greatest minds of his time already. If life had not beaten him into the furthest recess of his mind from the moment he was old enough to understand and question what was going on around him, perhaps that person could have existed, already fully formed, by the ripe age of thirty. But life was not so kind, and even now he can say with certainty that it comes as no real surprise, having studied so much of the world obsessively, researching what he can get his hands on of every possibility that the human mind can dream up to understand the world at large.

At an early age, he retreated into his mind as a form of coping with the outside world, even as the thunderous voices, first of his parents, then of the bullies and naysayers at school, then of everyone, tried to infiltrate his thoughts. Single-minded to the core, focused and determined to solve any question proposed, any long lost mystery left unsolved, it is still so easy for him to fall into weeks at a time of researching furiously, even disappearing for days at a time on his quests for knowledge, once an idea comes to him. Because of this, he was never quite as adept as interpersonal relationships as he might’ve been otherwise, and this only worsened after his accident, when the sounds of the voices became nearly deafening in his mind.

He would much rather spend his time researching whatever concept has caught his interest than interact with his peers, causing him to come off as distant and aloof to many. When he does deign to talk to others for an extended period of time, though, his brilliance does become clear, although so does his erraticism. Enchanted with long lost mysteries, and ideas thought only to be legend and rumor, his speech rambles and raves through dozens of topics by the you’ve caught up with the first. If landing on something he truly does care about, he could speak for hours with supreme eloquence on the matter, although what he cares about and believes in rarely lines up with those around him, and thus is often dismissed as nonsense. He believes wholeheartedly, after all, that consciousness creates and therefore nothing the human mind is able to dream up should be ruled as wholly impossible.

People have always been cruel to him, and he has long ago accepted this as a fact of his life, even if he does do his best to spread good in the form of knowledge. When faced with the negativity, the cruelty, he used to do anything he could to defend himself, including the less refined solutions. He still possesses very little respect for traditional authority, but some of his light, some of the mischief has left him in the years since the fight that left him as he is. Now, it is often times easier to accept that others’ minds aren’t nearly as expanded as his, and they do not wish to be, than to try to argue his correctness. An unwilling audience will not learn, no matter how brilliant of a teacher he might be.

Do not mistake that for him thinking the worst of the world, though. Despite it all, he truly does believe in good, and hopes that one day he can bring the hope that he does feel to others as well by expanding their minds beyond the limitations of the mundane. But he’s convinced himself that he won’t be able to do so as he is now, broken and bent, a shadow of what he could be if not plagued with such a curse.

2. how has the war affected this character, emotionally and otherwise?

Upon waking up in the hospital wing all of those years ago, his mind had become a much darker place. The war was never his, never will be, at least fully, thanks in part to his own blood status, but mostly because of how he feels. It took a long, long time until he realized, truly, what was going on, and then it was only thanks to Pandora that he began to grasp the reality, the gravity of the situation surrounding them.

In the beginning, with only whispers and quiet fights taking place as two sides divided over beliefs, he was unaware, too completely wrapped up in his own quests to set them aside and worry about another battle to fight. After all, in the beginning, he was utterly devoted to finding his own cure, whatever it might take. In a way, Xeno’s selfishness kept him blinded to what was happening, or how he might’ve helped for far longer than it should have.

But then he truly met Pandora, and he fell in love as quickly as he had fallen in love with the pursuit of knowledge to calm his mind. Even without a cure, being with her cleared some of the noise, and he could begin to understand the gravity of what was going on around him. He saw how much the carnage of the war hurt her, saw how deeply and thoroughly she cared for all of these people she didn’t even know, and that is what made him begin thinking more deeply on things.

That is when it began to hurt.

The voices seemed only to grow in volume, overlapping each other, begging for his attention at every turn as he watched his wife become more and more entrenched in a fight that should not have been happening in the first place, in his mind. As the war ragged on, and things grew worse, so did his affliction, as if whatever it was that had caused this was somehow tied to the war itself. That explanation made it feel easier, for him, anyway, even if it made everyone believe he was that much further gone, tying himself to something of such importance.

He retreated further and further into himself, his research falling by the wayside, only Pandora allowed into the true depths of his madness, witnesses the oftentimes nonsensical spurts of morbid inspiration burst from the voices of war in his mind. Among it all, there was, and still is, the underlying desire to do what his wife does, to be able to care so deeply about so many others, but his mind makes it so difficult. He cares about Pandora’s safety above all others’, and those she loves, too, now, but widely is still more concerned about the personal matters first. Still, he tries to help her when he can, would do anything in the world for her if it meant she was happy and at peace, just as she tries to do for him. And perhaps, once he finds his cure, he can do the same for others.

But how could he help now, after all, when he’s so far from whole himself?

3. Where does this character currently stand? with those who wish to hide in godric’s hollow until the war ends, with those who wish to rebuild the order and continue fighting the war, or on neither side? why?

This, all of this, it was not a choice of his own.

He could feel Pandora’s desire to fight, even before the question of what came next was out in the world. And just as it came, so did offer of retreat, of refuge. It was never an offer they could have passed up, no matter how it was spun. Pandora wished to help, to do what she could for those suffering, and prevent any more death from blooming in their midst, and he has always wanted what she wants. His own involvement with the Order had been selfish from the start, anyway, and it was clear that retreating with the Order held the most potential for the expansion of knowledge, the potential of finding a cure, even after all of these years, or even just finding a moment of peace. Just as it was clear that the longer they spent out in the world, amongst the hatred and violence, the worse his condition became, descending further and further from reason.

And so it was not a choice in the first place, and now, here they are, without much choice again.

Stuck in a village full of the memory of death, without a say.

With no personal attachment to the war, and as only an affiliate of the Order, it is hard for him to form a true feeling on what is right for all of them. He has very little desire to stay here for an extended period of time, feels trapped and static without access to the world at large for his research, but the thought of rebuilding to fight is one he’s not certain of either, when the war was never his to start and he feels in no way ready to truly help yet.

When it comes down to it, he would do whatever it is that Pandora believes is for the best for both of them, trusting her more than anyone else in the world, especially as the voices become clearer and he feels himself slipping from sense, even if that meant staying until the war ends.

But he doesn’t feel good here.

It stinks of death, of vile hatred, of curses perhaps even worse than his own. And for the first time, he’s afraid.

It’s strange, in a way, that he hasn’t felt fear like this before, after the countless fights, after waking up and learning he was missing weeks of his life, after being changed beyond his own will because of some sinister magic. Not once before has he felt this fear, but it’s settled square between his shoulders now, twisting a terrible knot of tension, keeping him from finding any true peace here. He’s convinced there’s something here that he’s been searching for. But now that he’s closer, he’s terrified of what he might find, that the answer might be there will never be a cure. That maybe he is mad after all.

4. The voices in Xenophilius’ head have only gotten louder since the war began. How are they now that he’s in Godric’s Hollow? Has anything he heard made sense, or is it just a bunch of gibberish?

There were always voices in his mind, although he had never truly considered them anything to worry about until after the that fateful night when they changed. There were always whispers of unknown sources helping him along with his research, encouraging him to expand his thinking, search out new creatures and potions. Those voices helped create new spells, craft potions no one had dreamt up before, study beasts only thought of in fairy tales.

They’re different now, though, darker, jumbled. It’s rarer that there’s anything clear, so many different voices speaking at once, constantly, but when there is, it’s not as it was, inspiring thoughts and breakthroughs. And they’re all familiar; sometimes he’ll hear his parents, sometimes he’ll hear old schoolmates, Order members.

When he became truly aware of the war, something changed. The voices seemed louder, more persistent, as if determined to hold his attention because of what was going on in the world.

Coming to here, Xeno believed that perhaps being in a place of peace would change that, that it may quiet some of the voices, take the constant dull roar down to a whisper once again, allow him to feel more like himself, allow him to focus on searching for a cure. He was wrong, though.

The voices changed upon his entrance into Godric’s Hollow.

There’s something new there, in the corner of his mind, hidden amongst all of the confusion, the hundreds of voices mixed floating around his mind. It used to be so rare to have a moment of clarity, the voices only working to a crescendo so often. It happens often now, one thought or another winning out, coming to the forefront of his mind in complete clarity and bursting forth into a shock of inspiration.

These bursts of inspiration feel almost close to violent since coming to Godric’s Hollow, taking him over completely, frenzied. He finds himself scribbling in notebook upon notebook madly, frantically flipping through pages of the books they’d brought to their tent from home, muttering to himself as if he may lose the thread of inspiration if he cannot get it out into the world fast enough. It’s exhausting, feeling so much, feeling so out of his own control at times, and he’s certain it has to do with this place.

When they calm again, when he stops from exhaustion, quill drooping in hand, and glances at the pages and pages, it scares him even more. Rarely, now, does what he writes seem to be related to his own research. It seems to be what these voices want, the thoughts made concrete.

He hears them saying names, names of those lost, those gone forever. Hears them telling him to go, then another telling him he must stay, that he is oh, so close to what he needs. He tries his hardest to keep going, but it gets so hard when in the din of voices something so clear rings out, something that seems to mean more.

The most terrifying thing was the first moment he heard Pandora’s voice in his mind, clear as day, the familiar wavering whisper as beautiful as a bird’s song to his ears, one of the first days they had come to Godric’s Hollow. She told him to stay. It shook him to his core, but he hasn’t heard her since, hopes he doesn’t. He hates the thought of his curse touching the most pure thing in his life.

So Xenophilius searches for what they’re trying to lead him to, hoping it is what he needs, that the cure might be at his fingertips, if only he opens his eyes.

extra.

pinterest board!

character tag!

if i were…

if i were a season, i’d be autumn.

if i were a time of day, i’d be dusk.

if i were a place, i’d be a hidden library of forgotten knowledge.

if i were a type of weather, i’d be a thunderstorm.

if i were a scent, i’d be patchouli.

if i were a plant, i’d be a Dirigible plum.

if i were an element, i’d be water.

if i were a color, i’d be bright, warm yellow.

if i were a song, i’d be River by Joni Mitchell

if i were an item of clothing, it’d be a worn, grey duster.

if i were an object, i’d be a moleskin notebook.

if i were one of the seven deadly sins, i’d be pride.

if i were one of the seven heavenly virtues, i’d be diligence.

if i were a god/goddess, i’d be Athena.

on pandora:

He knew. The moment she first treated him in Mungo’s, he knew that he would follow her to the ends of the earth, if she would allow him. It was a strange feeling, not entirely a pleasant one when considering that all his life he had expected never to feel that way about another human being. He wonders how he had missed her at Hogwarts, but then, he had been so entangled in himself, so focused on collecting all the knowledge that he could, that he had hardly made any friends in his own house and year, yet alone others. What mattered is that he had found her now, just in time to keep him from giving up.

After truly meeting Pandora, his single-minded obsession became learning to sign as quickly and proficiently as he could. He wasn’t as fast as he wished he would’ve been, but he learned as best he could, and kept going back to Mungo’s as he learned, an excuse to see her again and talk to her more, especially as he realized that the other healers believed him mad.

She was the first person who truly believed him when he insisted it was the boys’ attack with the dark objects that had caused this, and not a dormant mental illness whose symptoms only appeared after the event. As such, his trust and belief in her was enormous from the beginning, and has not once faltered in the years since.

One of the initial reasons he was so attracted to her was for her pure dedication to a singular cause and the pursuit of knowledge, something he believes in himself. He could see how passionate she was about healing, and how willing she was to do anything to help her patients, not limited to the confines of average healing. He admires her determination and creativity greatly.

The way she cares for people stands in stark contrast to his own ability to do so, which is another reason he loves her so much. He can hardly imagine being so open in caring about others, but he likes to think that she has helped him grow in that regard even slightly. He hopes that she’ll help him grow in that even more, once they’ve found a cure.

If it were not for Pandora, Xeno wholeheartedly believes he would have given up hope of finding a cure, or even peace, years ago. She was able to show him the light in the darkness, and she continues to be that beam of sunlight coming through the clouds of a storm with each passing moment, reminding him that there’s always reason for hope left.

The only times he finds even brief moments of something close to silence is with her. Lying in bed together as they both try to drift into troubled sleep, listening to the steady sound of her breathing, feeling her heat pressed against his, it’s nearly enough to calm the war constantly raging in his mind.

His proposal to her was neither truly romantic or at all dramatic, instead a sort of passing question in the midst of the ever rambling road of his words, his fingers moving just as fast as his lips could, by that time. A question phrased in a way that made it seem more for practicality than it truly was, because he does love her, more greatly than he thought he could ever love one person. A simple it would be easier if we were married, and then the nonchalant production of a ring from his pocket, set on the table in front of her. An amethyst and celestite woven together within a bronze band, charmed to emit a sense of pease and focus, as well as ward off Wrackspurts.

details:

His parents met at Durmstang, and then moved to Berlin, Germany after graduating, working as researchers, of sorts, for a company of like-minded wizards interested in what many would call nontraditional magic. When things began to fall apart in the non-magical world, they made the decision to move to start a family of their own in safety. They settled in London, using up most of their savings to make it there and rent a small flat in Camden.

Despite being a pureblood, Xeno holds none of the beliefs of British pureblood society, in part thanks to be raised by non-British purebloods, but mostly because he can hardly fathom how it is possible to see other humans so darkly. He appreciates what muggles have accomplished without magic, and has even studied much of muggle science and technology out of interest, as well as being interested in proving for them the existence of several of their so-called cryptids.

He has never been able to hold a full time job for long, and stopped trying to do so after years spent in his early twenties trying unsuccessfully in various fields that didn’t truly keep his interest anyway. He would miss days of work without mentioning it, was perpetually late, and rarely actually helped customers with what they actually wanted when in customer service fields. Instead, he earned his money by penning essays and articles sold to various magazines and newspapers on his strange beliefs, as well as selling his research to those who would benefit from it. He dreams of starting his own magazine, if things ever return to normal, if heever finds a cure for his affliction, but right now that task feels impossible given how full his mind is.

He’s started a small garden of strange flora for his and Pandora’s use in Godric’s Hollow. Not much of it is useful to the more ordinary needs of the residents, unless they believe in the oftentimes wild properties Xeno attributes to many of the plants, but he and his wife use many of them for potions and infusions of their own needs, and gladly share if anyone has a desire.

Xenophilius is unable to produce a corporeal Patronus at this time, and has not been able to since waking up in the hospital wing those years ago. Before that, though, his Patronus was an eagle owl.

He didn’t actually seek any healing for what the other students had done to him outside of his own attempts at healing until he was well out of school. As confident as ever, he believed that he could find a cure and do so by himself. When it started interfering not only with his life, but his work, though, he sought out help at Mungo’s. Although most of the healers believed he had gone insane, and most people still do, it was the best decision he made, as it lead him to Pandora.

He hasn’t had any contact with his parents since he graduated from Hogwarts and isn’t certain where they are now, or even if they’re still living. It isn’t that he doesn’t love them, but the childhood that they gave him took too much from him even as they fought to offer him opportunity. He still hears their voices amongst all the others, hears them arguing, only now the anger feels directed at him, not each other.

As well as now being fluent in sign language, Xeno also speaks fluent German, although most of what comes to mind easily now has to do with the cursing that his parents used to do at each other during his childhood.

Not concerned with outward appearances, Xeno very often looks like he rolled directly out of bed and walked into public. While that isn’t usually the case, he could not care less if anyone thinks it is. If he owns a brush for his hair, it has long ago been lost, and many of his clothes are either entirely inappropriate for the occasion at hand, or completely mismatched. There is a method to some of what he wears, of course; the necklaces he always wears, one with a butterbeer cork dangling from it, the other with the symbol of the Deathly Hallows.

[nikoleqv03-blog]

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[vincess-princess]

(And here finally goes my hogwarts au. The description below is for the whole fic, in the future I’ll be posting charters without it)

Title: Magic of insanity

Author: arnold-layne

Fandom: Harry Potter universe, Motley Crue, occasionally Guns N’ Roses, W.A.S.P., Led Zeppelin and some other bands

Characters: Nikki Sixx, Tommy Lee, Vince Neil, Mick Mars, Blackie Lawless, Jimmy Page, etc.

Genre: slash

Rating: Adult content (specifically for some episodes which I’ll mark)

Warning: contains ust, angst, descriptions of violence, underage, obscene language

Description: Nikki Sixx is a sixth-year Hogwarts student with unhealthy high interest in Dark Arts, sex and weed and unhealthy low interest in studying. At first the new school year seems to him just as usual as all previous years had been, but oh, how mistaken he is...

Charter 1.

Word count: 1548

Putting on heels was a mistake, realised Nikki, standing in front of a subway entrance and looking hopelessly at the endless stairs leading under the ground. Not that he hadn’t faced this obstacle before - when you are a London lower-class misfit, subway is usually the only mean of transportation you can afford, - but he definitely didn’t have to carry a huge and hella heavy trunk with him then. The opportunity of calling a taxi was still tempting, but he remembered that if he wasted his money now, he would have nothing left for the trip to Hogsmeade, and shrugged the thought off. Then Nikki tightened his grip on a trunk’s handle and started his long journey down.

There were a few free seats in the train, but after Nikki noticed that not a single one of them was near some pretty girl or guy, he preferred to remain on his feet. As always, he’s got his share of sidelong glances and scowls, but now he wasn’t sure if it was because of his appearance or an enormously huge trunk with something obviously moving inside… oh shit, his igneous lizards must have found their way out of the jar, he realised. He gotta put them back, or his clothes will turn into ashes by the time he arrives to Hogwarts, thought Nikki with horror. Or at least start smelling like smoke, which was no good either.

Once a woman’s voice announced his station, Nikki hurried out of the train only to realise that the stairs down wasn’t even an problem comparing to what he had to face now – the way up.

Ten minutes later, sweaty and out of breath, he finally reached King’s Cross and slipped through the barrier after some family with a visibly shaking first-year whom his parents had almost to carry through the wall because he refused to walk with his own feet. When you were his age you were no better, reminded Nikki himself, but still couldn’t help chuckling. He wasn’t that confused and scared first-year anymore; he was surrounded by wizards, young and old, weirdly dressed or almost indistinguishable from Muggles, and that – that finally was what he really belonged to. Almost nobody stared at him now, assuming, maybe, that he just mistook men’s clothing shop with women’s. It can happen with anybody, though, these Muggles have such weird fashion!

He noticed Tommy almost instantly, for he was towering over the crowd, having almost reached 6’ at his incomplete fifteen years. The boy’s gonna be taller then Nikki in the future, thought he with slight annoyance, but when Tommy noticed him and waved enthusiastically, all his annoyance disappeared. Nikki pushed his way through the crowd, using his trunk as a ram, and only when he approached him, he realised that Tommy was not alone here – of course, his family had come to see him off, just like all normal families do.

Even though they’ve been friends for about four years by now, it was the first time he met Tommy’s family. His mother, as he expected, was thin and beautiful, even after having two kids and god-knows-how-many miscarriages, and Nikki caught himself on not a very friendly thought that he would fuck her if he had a chance. Well, it was no wonder, she was Miss Greece once, remembered he. His sister Athena, a shy fourth-year girl, took after her mother and in the future was going to become just as beautiful. But now she was just a clumsy teenager with acne problems, and only her long wavy hair, just a little longer than Tommy’s, gave that away.

And there was his father. He looked strangely small near his son, and Nikki had to remind himself that 5’9’’ for a man is not that bad, but that didn’t give Tommy any advantage. They wore almost identical suits, but Tommy looked in it so awkwardly that it was obvious he’s been forced to wear it, whereas his father wore it with dignity, even loftiness; Tommy’s hair, even in ponytail, looked like a mop, whereas his father’s haircut looked so neat you couldn’t find a hair sticking out even if you tried; Tommy, always being the tallest, used to slouch a lot, and his father’s proud posture could belong to a member of a royal family. Nikki disliked him immediately.

“Mum, father, - said Tommy with tense, his eyes fixed on him, looking both anxious and hopeful, - meet Nikki”

The moment of shocked silence followed. Tommy’s mother raised her eyebrows in astonishment, and it was noticeable that only her manners prevented her from openly staring at him; however, she nodded gracefully and said amazingly polite, not giving away her emotions even at slightest, “Nice to meet you, Nikki”. He smiled warmly to her as an answer.

“So that’s the young gentleman who Thomas calls his best friend” said his father, squinting his eyes contemptuously and somehow managing to look down upon Nikki, even being a few inches shorter. But even his icy, disdainful tone didn’t manage to make Nikki feel diminished – in fact, it did otherwise, because now he was going to act as ill-behaved as he could, throwing away all that was left from his almost non-existent manners. He caught Tommy’s eye and winked almost unnoticeably – don’t worry, it’ll be alright. “Or should I say «young lady»?” his father continued sarcastically, obviously referring to Nikki’s four inches high heels. Putting them on definitely weren’t a mistake.

“I’m sorry that me wearing heels makes you question my sex” said Nikki, on purpose distorting his slight American accent to an almost unrecognizable level. “But nobody before you had a problem with that” he wasn’t even trying to hide mocking intonations in his voice, “mr. Lee”. Tommy glanced at him with both admiration and fear written on his face.

Mr. Lee’s face whitened with rage. “Well, all these people must have been not of a smart kind” he managed to keep his voice calm when he answered. “I’m quite surprised that you were placed in such honorable house as Slytherin. It seems the Sorting Hat does make mistakes sometimes”.

“Oh, I don’t think so”, Nikki pretended not to notice the hint. “I’m sure it suits me just right”.

“Then, sadly, Slytherin is not what it used to be back in my days” said mr. Lee, pursing his lips. “Anyway, I shall get to the point now, as the train leaves in ten minutes. Thomas is on his fifth year now, which means he’s going to pass his Ordinary Wizarding Level examinations this year. I do hope his results will live up to his family’s standards, but, considering how poor they were before, he’ll have to work hard. I’ve already arranged with some of the teachers, who I happen to know personally, that they’ll take care of him, so there’s only one problem remained: your so-called friendship”

Tommy winced behind mr. Lee’s back. This definitely wasn’t the first time he had to listen to all this - and if mr. Lee decided to talk to Nikki personally, then all these attempts obviously were in vain.

“I’m not going to mention how destructive, scandalous and disreputable I consider it to be…” mr. Lee went on, but Nikki interrupted him.

“You just did that”

“Did what?” mr. Lee was slightly confused, maybe more because he didn’t expect that someone would actually dare to interrupt him than because he forgot what he just said.

“Mentioned that. About our terrible, destructive… how’d you say? – disreputable - friendship. Very nice description indeed, I’ve heard worse”

“How dare you…” started mr. Lee indignantly, but at that moment Hogwarts Express whistled, signaling that there were only five minutes left before departure, and he had to put off the rant about Nikki’s bad manners. “Alright, we don’t have much time left. Thomas, Athena, get on the train now, and I shall have a quick word with mr. Feranna”

Tommy gave him a supporting look and took both his and Nikki’s trunks to get on the train which seemed to irritate his father a lot, though he had to hold back his opinion on that.

“It’s not Feranna anymore” said Nikki “it’s Sixx”

“Nevermind. Well, I’ve heard you’re quite good in certain school subjects so I hope you’re smart enough to understand the importance of my words. I ask you kindly and politely to leave my son alone once and for all. Your friendship does only bad for him, he doesn’t study, doesn’t think of his future, of his family’s honour, even of his inheritance, which is unacceptable. If you back off him, I’ll be quite grateful and maybe even drop a hint to some high-ranking wizards in the Ministry about one gifted student from Slytherin… if not, I shall warn you that I’ll have to take certain actions”

The train whistled one more time. Somebody shouted “Hurry up!”, but Nikki took his time to answer.

“I shall say” answered he finally, “that it’s only Tommy’s business who to be friends with, not mine and definitely not yours. And it’s only up to Tommy to decide, what’s more important to him: friendship or your O.W.L.s and your shitty inheritance. See ya, mr. Lee” and he jumped into the train that already started to move.